Adrenaline is surely one of the most amazing hormones. It's a major component of the 'fight or flight response' and there was not doubt which one was the right one for me. I was young, slim and fit and I had the advantage of a few precious seconds of surprise. I heard roars of frustration and oaths behind me, and the sound of heavy boots running. One of my shoes clattered on the tarmac beside me, but I didn't turn my head. I heard a crash as one of them slipped and fell sprawling with a string of obscenities, but I didn't look back. Safety was twenty yards, ten yards, and then I was back on the main street, and I ran on, oblivious to the curious stares of the passers-by. I gradually slowed up and checked behind me. There was no sign of them. I carried on walking in my torn stockings until I reached the beauty parlour.

“Goodness miss, whatever happened to you?” said one of the staff with great concern.

“I had a bit of trouble,” I said, my heart still pounding.

Jenny spun around, concern all over her face, and I had to sit down beside her and tell her the story, while someone brought me a cup of hot tea. Amazing the restorative powers of tea. Once I felt I had recovered, Jenny insisted that I take the time to have my eyebrows and nails done as I had intended, and it's true the pampering I received really did me good in making me relax. One of the girls found me a pair of stockings and some slip-on flat shoes. I confess I had tears in my eyes at their kindness.

When all was completed, Jenny said “Right. I think we should go back to the scene of the crime.”

“Must we?“ I said, suddenly nervous again “Supposing they're still there?”

“They won't be,” said Jenny “Look, it's like falling off a horse, you have to get straight back on again, and anyway I want to speak to that shop-keeper.”

There were people in the alley now, so it felt quite safe. We found my shoes without difficulty where the boys had thrown them after me, and apart from a few scuff marks they were undamaged. Jenny sailed into the jewellery store like a cruiser going into battle. A man in his fifties, balding with a small moustache stood behind the counter.

“Good afternoon, madam.” I was standing behind Jenny and he did not immediately see me.

“Good afternoon Mr....?”

“Cyril Watkins at your service.”

“I see Mr Watkins, but you were not at the service of my friend when she was bailed up in front of your window about an hour ago.”

She stepped aside so Mr Watkins could see me. He visibly turned pale.

“I'm not sure that I did see her.”

“Come, come, Mr Watkins,” Jenny spoke as to a dimwitted child, “Unless you are in the habit of leaving your counter unattended, which I doubt very much, then I don't see how you could have missed her?”

“Err, I thought they were her friends.”

“Her friends?” Jenny sounded outraged. “Does she look the sort of young woman who would have friends like that?”

“I, err, well, err.” Mr Watkins was floundering and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.

“There were four of them and one of you, so I wouldn't necessarily expect you to go out and confront them, but you would have called the police of course?” Jenny had a steely glint in her eye now. “You did call the police didn't you?”

Mr Watkins face had changed from white to red and was now a curious mottled colour. “Well, the fact is I didn't really feel...”

Jenny cut him off. “So you didn't call the police and as a result you could have been partially responsible for a serious assault taking place. It was all down to the quick thinking of my friend that she escaped relatively unscathed.” She glanced down at his left hand which bore a wedding ring. “I can only hope that if any female members of your family find themselves in a similar position, that they can rely of receiving better assistance than you gave my friend today. Someone once said “All that is necessarily for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” I hope you remember that Mr Watkins. Come along Lesley.” And with that we left the shop.

As Jenny sailed up the alley, the battle won, I looked at her in genuine awe. “Jenny, you were magnificent!”

“Well, I wouldn't go that far, but I think I got my message through. Now you, young lady, what did you learn today?”

“A lesson you taught me before to 'be aware of my surroundings' I don't think I'll ever forget that one again. It seems unfair that women cannot walk the streets as safely as men.”

“Yes it does,” said Jenny, “but we have to deal with the world as it is, not as we would like it to be.”

Back at the Station, I had warned John about the possible effects of the hormones on my emotions, and promised to do my best to be aware and keep them under control. He promised to be understanding if I seemed unreasonable at times. Of course I never was unreasonable — in my eyes that is, but then that's part of the problem, we don't always see ourselves as others see us. Later, when I quizzed John, he reluctantly said that there were occasions when he was sorely tempted to put me over his knee and spank me, and I said “Well why didn't you? I would have enjoyed that!” And we both laughed.

The following month and the one after, Jenny and I went to Brisbane again. Dr Brentwell expressed satisfaction that my testosterone level had dropped considerably after the first month of hormone therapy. The following month it rose slightly, which concerned me, but he wasn't worried.

“That often happens,” he explained “It will almost certainly drop next time, and if it doesn't, I'll send you back to Dr Hall, who will probably increase your dose slightly."

Jenny and I had fallen into a routine with my Brisbane visits, and I was busy packing my suitcase the night before our next trip when the telephone rang. It was Jenny, and she sounded quite distressed.

“It's Tom,” she said, “The silly man had gone and broken his arm.”

“Oh Jenny, I'm so sorry to hear that,” I replied “Where is he now?”

“The local nurse has called the Flying Doctor Service and they're going to take him to the hospital in Townsville.”

“And you're going with him of course?”

“Well that's the problem,” she replied, sounding very upset. “I know you rely on me to go to Brisbane with you....”

Mindful of possible listeners to our call, I chose my words carefully. “Jenny, please slow down and take a deep breath. I'm sure I am quite capable of making the trip on my own. You know how much I enjoy our shopping trips together to Brisbane, but right now, Tom must be your priority.”

Jenny obviously got my coded message because she replied. “You are right of course. I'll pack a small case and go with Tom to Townsville.” She hesitated for a moment and then said, “If you enjoy doing this trip on your own, then maybe you won't need me to come with you anymore?”

“Nonsense,” I replied “I probably wouldn't bother to go tomorrow but I've got some things to pick up. It won't be nearly so much fun without you. Now you concentrate on Tom and make sure he gets well soon so that we can go to Brisbane together next month.”

She laughed softly now, and it was good to hear.

“You are so right of course. It's funny how someone outside a problem can see a solution much more clearly than someone in the middle of it. As for Brisbane next month — it's a date.”

To be honest, I didn't feel nearly as confident as I made out to Jenny, but it was true that sooner or later I had to take the plunge and go out solo into the world. It had now been forced upon me, earlier than I really wanted, but I wasn't going to cancel my psychiatrist’s appointment or he might think I was having a change of heart.

The train to Rockhampton was unusually empty, and I had a compartment to myself for most of the way, but of course things were different for the train trip on to Brisbane. I had dressed in a conservative skirt and blouse, and looked just what I was, a country woman coming down to the 'Big Smoke' as we called it. As a result, everyone ignored me and went about their own business, with the single exception of a shy-looking young lad who ventured a tentative smile in my direction which I studiously ignored. It did my confidence a power of good though to realise that someone thought I was attractive enough to make the beginnings of an approach to me.

My appointment with Dr Brentwell went very well, and he seemed impressed that I had carried on with my trip to Brisbane alone. He laughed when I explained about our insecure telephone lines and how we sometimes had to talk in code to avoid giving the local busybodies some gossip to relay.

“I can see you are gaining in confidence,” he said, “And why not? You are very passable as a woman now, and providing you conduct yourself as other women do, you should have no problems. In that regard, I should stress again that women need to be more vigilant than men regarding their personal safety. No wandering down dark alleys late at night!” That struck a chord with me and I told him about the incident with the four youths outside the jewellery store and how it had made me much more cautious now.

This time I also saw Dr Hall and he had good news too, in that my testosterone level had fallen again and was now within the normal range for a female. That made me feel very good indeed. I had been seeing subtle changes in my body over the last three months as the hormones started to take effect — softer skin, and a definite slight increase in my own breast tissue, although it probably wouldn't be visible to anyone else.

I stayed in the usual hotel, and visited the girls at the salon before returning home the following day. They all asked after Jenny. She had such a lovely personality, that she left an indelible impression wherever she went.

Later I heard the story of how Tom came to break his arm. He'd had a particularly heavy crate on board his truck, and no-one to help him lift it off, so of course he tried it himself, it slipped and he tried to catch it. Fortunately his cries of pain did attract attention or he might have been lying there for some time.

“I still think I'm eighteen and bullet proof,” he said with a sigh when I called over to see him. “Jenny threatens to divorce me if I do anything so stupid again. They've had to bring someone in to do the run while I'm a cot case. Some six foot strapping bloke hardly dry behind the ears.”

Tom was never happy cooped up inside a house, and I could see he was fretting, both to get out again, and because he was worried about his job. Jenny came in with tea, scones, cream and jam. She had taught me to make scones tolerably well, but hers were the best in the business.

“Devonshire Tea — my favourite!” I cried as Jenny sat down and started to pour the tea.

“Tom's really worried that they'll ask this chap to stay on and he'll be pensioned off,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Now Jen, it's not Lesley's problem, and I'm sure we'll manage,” said Tom, upset that she had mentioned it.

“I'm sorry to contradict you Tom,” I said “But I think it is my problem, and everyone else's who relies on you for their deliveries. I've met this young guy, and to him it's just a job, take it or leave it. No, we want you back, as soon as you are fully fit of course.”

The conversation turned to other matters, but I knew what was uppermost in both their minds. When I left, promising to return soon, Jenny came with me down to my car.

“I'm sorry talking about the job business,” she said “But Tom's worried sick. He tries to pretend he doesn't care, but I've been married to him for a long time, and he doesn't fool me one bit.”

“There must be something we can all do, even if it's to take up a petition,” I said.

“The trouble is not knowing. We might just get a letter in the post and that's it,” Jenny replied, and I've never seen her look so worried.

“I'll talk to John tonight,” I said “We've got to get Tom back in that truck for his sanity and yours.”

We hugged, and I drove back to the Station. That evening, I told John about my visit, and how worried Jenny and Tom were.

“Isn't there something we can do?” I asked.

“Well of course interfering in the affairs of the Postal Department, would be strictly forbidden. Just leave it with me will you?” I went to bed happier. John knew people in Brisbane, despite the remoteness of MacKenzie Station.

Four days later, Tom was on the phone, and he seemed very excited.

“Is John around?” he said

“Errr, no. Can I take a message?”

“Sure Lesley, I can tell you and you can pass it on to John. I just had the most extraordinary phone call. It was from someone very senior in the Postal Department. He said he was sorry to hear of my accident and hoped I was recovering well and would be back on the road with them soon, but only when I was fully healed of course.”

“Why that's great news, Tom. It just shows you should never give up.”

He spoke more quietly now.

“I'm just ringing to say 'thank you' to both of you.”

“That's very kind of you Tom, but I didn't do anything other than tell John, and he was very emphatic that there was nothing he could do. He really stressed that.”

There was a silence, and then Tom chuckled. “Sorry, I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, but I get there in the end. Perhaps you'd better thank John from me for doing 'nothing' then.

“I'll be sure to give him the message, but really no-one should be thanked when they are doing things out of purely selfish motives, don't you think? That is..errr, if in fact they'd done something in the first place.”

I relayed the message to John, and he just gave that slow smile of his.

“It's amazing what a word in the right ear can achieve.”

To be continued.