Cathy has an encounter on the stairs and a poor night's sleep.

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad.
part 115 (that's 12 x 9.58333' for other dozen fetishists).

As I walked up the stairs to my room, rapid footsteps were coming down, they belonged to the two hooligans with whom I shared the building. "Well look who has deigned to come back," said BigMac.

I felt a little afraid of him with Simon in hospital.

"And without the boyfriend to protect you," he laughed and so did his sidekick.

I decided to just try and brazen it out and began to attempt to push past them. The sidekick moved to block my way. Looking at my shopping bags, BigMac said, "Ooh, Wallis and Laura Ashley, only the best for our little girlfriend here."

"Excuse me," I said trying to manoeuvre past sidekick, he just moved to block me. I was still frightened about what they might do and decided that attack might just be the best form of defence.

I switched my bags to my left hand, if they had any brains they might have seen what was coming, they didn't to either. "Excuse me," I said loudly and they both just laughed. With that I grabbed hard at the groin of sidekick pulled and twisted, throwing him into the arms of his larger friend, squealing as he went. "I did try to be nice," I said and walked on up the stairs.

It was a high risk strategy but it seemed to work as the smaller one was still whimpering and his friend laughing at him, as I walked up the stairs to my room. It was only when I got there and safely locked the door that I could laugh too. That was twice I had bested him, once when he jumped on Simon and I tried to implant his head in the pavement, and now. Either he would now give me a wide berth or comeback harder. I hoped it was the former.

I had a cuppa and despite laughing earlier, I noticed my hand was actually shaking as I tried to drink the tea. I hung up my newest clothes and went to the fridge, it was pretty well bare unless I wanted the remains of a piece of mouldy cheese and some cream crackers. I needed to go to the shop.

I had a cloth bag which was quite substantially made, and I put my purse in it. I also put in a paperweight, a piece of polished Portland stone, it made a suitable defensive weapon if needed. Then very warily, I stepped out of my door and down the steps.

My defence wasn't needed and I spent a few minutes chatting to my shopkeeper about all sorts of things. I bought some mushrooms and eggs plus a few potatoes, more milk and some chocolate. Then back to my room, planning on an omlette for my meal. I absent mindedly checked my mail box and found a couple of things.

The stairs were clear this time, they'd presumably gone down the union or some pub. I put away my shopping and looked at my post, my stomach flipped as I recognised the writing on one of them. I put it down and picking up my rubber gloves from the sink donned them before opening it.

'Some girls never learn, but then you're not a girl are you?

An ill-wisher.'

I put it with the others and placed them in a clean plastic bag I have to put sandwiches in. This time I kept the envelope as well, although it had been sent by Royal Mail. "Much more of these and I shall visit the police," I told myself. In reality, I had no idea who it was and while I accepted they didn't like what I was doing in transitioning, and they had a right to that view, sending nasty mail is illegal. I shuddered when I wondered what sort of mind would bother with such a hate-mail campaign, I was pretty sure it wasn't my two fellow residents. It seemed they still didn't know my past, and it was too sophisticated for them. No this looked like the work of another woman, but who?

I checked my webcam in the mailboxes, it continued doing it's job and I had another flash of the postman's bald head as he placed my mail in it's receptacle.

I made my meal and ate it. I was washing up when my mobile rang. I half dreaded it ringing in case it was bad news about my dad or Simon. It was Stella, you'd have thought that after she spent all day with me, she'd have been talked out, but apparently not. She yacked on endlessly about nothing in particular and I wondered about telling her of the latest poison pen letter. In the end I didn't, and when I cautioned her that my battery was going to run flat, she said, "Oh yes, I'll pop around about eleven and do your hair for you."

Before I could answer my phone went dead. I looked for the charger, but it wasn't where I normally kept it. That in itself annoyed me, because I usually put things in their place. In a small dwelling like mine, it was essential to keep things tidy or there was no space.

I searched high and low and could not locate it. I therefore assumed I'd taken it up to Bristol. I did have a kit I could charge from the cigarette lighter in the car, in the glove box of the car, so I pulled on a jacket and nipped down to the car. It only took a few moments to set up, and I hid it under the seat while it charged up.

Normally, something like this wouldn't worry me, but tonight I felt spooked. I almost got in the car and drove over to Stella's to be with someone, but she'd told me she was going out. I had little alternative but to go back to my room and lock it up. I used my security device, the scaffolding pole against the door, and waited for the morning to come.

I had things I could do but they were essentially distractions. Washing out my underwear, doing a few emails that sort of thing. I even went into an online chat room and spent an hour talking to other transgender people.

I used the nickname of 'Minnie Mouse' which was close to my little furry friends without being too close to link back to me. I discussed how others coped with difficult people, not those who rejected us, that was their right but those who attacked us, verbally or otherwise.

After listening to the experiences of others, I thought myself quite fortunate. In reality, the only difficulties I'd had were from the poison pen writer and a couple of remarks in college. Most others seemed to accept what they saw. I suppose I was lucky really, I passed reasonably well while some of the other conversants, didn't apparently. One showed a picture of herself, to me it looked like a man in makeup and a wig, although I couldn't bring myself to comment, I could see how they might have problems with youths.

I mentioned my nasty letters and they all said I should go to the police. I admitted that I was fortunate in being quite passable, but declined from showing a picture. I didn't actually have one and if I had I wouldn't have shown it. When they badgered me some more, I managed to find one of the Walt Disney character and posted that. Thankfully they all found it funny. Then I signed off.

I was going to the bathroom when I first heard it, a small scratching sound. Thinking it was mice, I stopped to listen, it wasn't and it was coming from my front door!

I shuddered, it was coming from my door. It sounded like someone was trying to undo the screws in the lock on the door. I listened, and it was certainly coming from that place.

I quietly checked the pole, it was solid and without some form of axe or battering ram, they wouldn't get in. However, I was going to have an uncomfortable night by the sound of it. I grabbed the large screw driver and after changing into my tee shirt and jeans, went and lay on the bed.

I did manage some sleep, but it didn't feel like it. I woke at about ten and after showering and slipping on some fresh jeans and tee shirt waited for Stella to arrive. I was nodding off as the door bell rang and it jolted me awake.

"Stella?" I called.

"Yes, who else are you expecting?"

I moved the bar and opened the door, she motioned me out and pointed at my door. Hanging there was a large bra with a message scrawled on the door in felt pen, 'Santa please fill these for me, cos mine won't.'

It was swinging freely on the door from a draught caused by an open window. That was the scratching I could hear. It was probably the retaliation I had half expected from the boys along my corridor. I removed it and cleaned off the graffito.

Stella wasn't impressed with their idea of a joke and it was as much as I could do to stop her protesting to them. I then told her what happened on my way up the stairs and she laughed.

"Come on girl, we've got to get you looking beautiful for your prospective in-laws."

"Stella, until I am legally reassigned as female, I can't marry anyone, especially Simon. That is a long way off, and many gallons of water will flow under the bridge before then. So don't hold your breath."

"It's all just technicalities," was her response.