A nagging loose end that needs attention. I really don't like leaving things unfinished. Expect one more part after this, but it'll come when it is ready. And when I find the time. Sorry, you'll have to read back through for this to make any sense.

"This is madness!"

The two women looked at their companion, who was neither a man nor a woman, exactly. They were standing on the half-landing looking out over a sea of brightly coloured racks, the Women's Floor of Maddens Department Store.

"I just can't do this! It was crazy of me to ever think I could!"

Shirley looked at the speaker and came to a quick decision.

"Right. Cafe, over there." She pointed to an area of shiny chrome chairs and tables in front of the plate glass windows overlooking the square. "Let's go and sit down for a moment. And have a nice cup of tea."

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2011-2012 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

Shirley and Debra stacked their bags on the fourth chair and began taking off their coats. The third person struggled with the unfamiliar fastenings on his short double-breasted coat before managing to remove it and hang it over the back of his chair. Underneath, he wore one of his own t-shirts, plain but clean, the front stretched taut by the presence of undeniable breasts. The jeans were a present from Debra, anonymous boot-cut women's jeans bought from a chain store the previous week. On his feet, thin dark socks inside new women's trainers, white with green and pink designs on the leather strips.

"I'll get the teas in," Shirley said, heading for the counter, already opening her purse to find her staff discount card. The other two sat on their chairs and looked at one another.

"I'm sorry," Debra said into the silence. "I hadn't really understood just what a shock this all must be for you. Of course, it all came naturally for me. It's like you've been dropped into a foreign country, isn't it?"

It was early in the day still, and there were few shoppers about yet. Dave's eyes flicked around the area, relieved to find that it was almost deserted, and therefore nobody about to notice his expression of humiliation.

"Yeah, you could say that," he said softly. He didn't want his voice to heard and thus people to guess he wasn't what he appeared to be. "Not just a foreign country, Tokyo," he decided. "It all looks kind of familiar, but you know you have no chance of working out what the hell is going on. It's all... alien, know what I mean?" He lowered his head before shaking it in despair. "How did I ever think this was going to work?"

"Look, Dave," Debra began. She stopped and gave an apologetic smile. "We can't keep calling you Dave either, can we?" she said. "I mean... that's an instant give-away, isn't it? What was I saying? Oh, yes, look... we agreed, we'd take things a little at a time, so's you can adapt gradually, become familiar with the way things work in our world. You can change your clothing slowly, so you get used to the new feel and fit, but buying them is a different matter. Shops don't do gradual. They all assume that someone who buys women's clothes is a woman, so everything is laid out for her."

"But..." Dave raised his hand and gestured at the shop floor beyond. "All that! How the heck am I supposed to know where to start? You don't get all this in the men's department. It's all colours and styles and slinky fabrics and frills and... I have no clue what I'm supposed to be doing, and some of what I see actively makes my skin crawl. I can't see how a woman could wear some of that stuff, let alone me."

Debra gave a friendly grin of agreement. "Oh, yes, I totally get what you mean! Some of what's over there makes my skin crawl, and I'd die with embarrassment if I was made to wear some of it." Her face became serious. "See, but that's the thing. There are women out there who would consider what you and I are wearing to be beyond the pale. There are just so many women, and they all have different ideas about what suits them and what doesn't. Trust me, we find this just as impossible as you do."

"There we are," Shirley said, putting a tray on the table between them. She busied herself setting out cups and saucers, and then pouring, before reaching for a shortbread from a small plateful on the tray. "What do we find impossible, then?"

"It's the huge choice we're faced with," Debra explained. "Dave just can't cope with it."

"Know what you mean, love," Shirley said, munching.

"Every woman eventually finds styles and colour combinations that suit her," Debra continued. "You don't have that experience, so no wonder you're stopped at the first hurdle. That's why you have us, to guide you through those first steps. Like we said before, we're not going to force you into anything you don't want to do, so just relax."

"Good advice, kiddo," Shirley added. "Now, let's all drink some of that tea."

They all sipped and munched quietly for a while. Dave began to relax, to think that his first reaction to seeing all... that... had been a little panicky. No one had taken the slightest notice of them, had they? He had got dressed and Debra had driven him to the city centre and not even a head had been turned his way. They had just appeared as a couple of women going shopping, which was just what they were. Almost.

Shirley pointed a shortbread at him. "Look at it this way, kiddo. You're an engineer, aren't you? Leastways, that's what you were, before all this nonsense. So, suppose you got dumped in, say, the cockpit of a Jumbo jet. You wouldn't know anything, would you? It would all look much like it does to me and Debra here, just a load of lights and switches, right?"

Dave nodded slowly. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

"But you'd soon begin to figure out what was what, wouldn't you? You'd start from what you already knew and then you'd learn about the bits you didn't know. You might not get it all but you'd find out enough to be able to get on with your job. That's the main thing, you don't need to do it all, at least not to start with. You just have to learn enough to get by with."

Dave nodded again. "I get it now. Yeah, putting it like that makes it clear enough, doesn't it?"

Shirley grinned at him. "Thought it might. I had to compare it with something that might be familiar to you." She looked at him carefully. "Seeing you in the daylight for the first time, it looks like Kayley did a good job, didn't she? That hair style suits the shape of your face. Coming here first thing and taking her to the salon was a brilliant idea, Debra."

Her. That was the first time Dave had ever been referred to as her, and he knew it wasn't going to be the last. It sounded strange to his ears. The word her was loaded with so much symbolism and he wondered whether he would ever become comfortable with it, ever become accustomed to the idea that it really applied to himself. Or herself, if this crazy scheme ever succeeded.

"It was, wasn't it?" Debra agreed. "Of course, we didn't have much time this morning, so the hair was all she had done. Next time, perhaps we ought to think about her eyebrows, and she definitely ought to consider having her ears pierced one day, because most women these days do that so it looks unusual if you don't."

Next time. Of course, there was going to be a next time. Dave remembered that women's hair needed more frequent attention than men's did, so he would be subjecting himself to that more often than he had visited the barber's. Balanced against that, he hadn't visited the barber's much lately, had he? For two very obvious reasons.

"What do you think, Dave? About your new hair style, I mean."

"It feels strange," he said. "I don't know about 'suiting the shape of my face', and that, but it's okay." He held up his hands to forestall the objections. "That's all I really want to say till I get used to it, I think. Let me go home and live with it for a week, and then I'll give you a proper assessment, okay? It's going to take me a little time to adjust to all this."

"We understand," Shirley said. "It's just like... when a woman changes her hair colour. For a week it just looks odd, then she gets used to it. You'll be the same, I expect."

"Something I thought of earlier," Debra said. "He needs a new name. We can't keep calling him Dave, not once he's started looking like this."

"No, you're right, Debra." Shirley turned to Dave. "Thought about it? Any ideas?"

Dave shrugged. "Not really. I mean, Dave is who I am, right? I've been Dave all my life, so that's the way I think about myself. I know I'll probably have to find myself a new name, but it's difficult to think of myself another way, especially a female way."

"Why not stick with the obvious?" Shirley said. "Davina, or something like that?"

Debra grimaced. "Too close. Someone might do a double take and recognise him. I don't really like that men's-names-turned-into-women's-names thing anyway. You know, Henrietta or Nigella, that just shows lack of imagination. To do the job properly, he needs a name that could only be a woman's name."

"You're probably right there. How about something with the same initial, then? Makes less fuss with any post or signatures that way. Diana, perhaps. Dorothy. Doreen. Drusilla."

"We've already got a Diane. Don't want to confuse the issue. Those others? Bit old, or not mainstream enough. She really needs something that was popular when she was born. You were in the same year, weren't you? What about names of girls in your year?"

"Get what you mean. Tell you what, we'll each think of some names while we're going round and we'll compare notes over lunch, how's that?"

They sipped and munched some more. When they had finished, each collected their coat and put them on, but left them undone. Dave turned to Shirley.

"So, what's the plan for this morning, then?"

"Let me look at you." She pursed her lips and eyed him up and down, walking all round him. "First thing, I think, is to get you some footwear. You can't wear trainers everywhere, and I bet you don't have much else at home that would be suitable."

"No, you got that right."

"You'll need some women's socks to go with the shoes. Perhaps..." Shirley looked a question at Dave. "How do you feel about tights?"

"No idea. Never worn them."

"We have tights over in Accessories which would look exactly like those socks you have on now. We have the traditional thin flesh toned ones or thicker opaque ones in various colours. You can wear them under jeans and slacks when the weather's cold, no-one will notice or give a damn. The other thing you're going to need is some tops which will match your new body shape. Perhaps a jacket, maybe a pair of gloves. The weather's cool at the moment, going to get colder."

"I guessed as much. I have nothing, well, nothing except what I'm wearing, and I have to start somewhere, don't I?" He gestured to the rows of clothing rails. "After you, ladies."

"Wrong. We're all ladies from this point on, and don't you forget it!" Shirley linked her arm with Dave's, and the three set forth.

Lunchtime came, and the three managed to find an empty corner table in the now-busy restaurant on the top floor. There was space on the floor to dump the impressive collection of carrier bags without tripping anybody up. Dave sat and guarded them while Debra and Shirley queued for food.

Dave thought about his experiences of the morning. No-one batted an eyelid at him, he was just another customer. He had tried on and paid for clothes that once upon a time he would not have gone near at gun point, and no-body cared. The changing rooms had come as a shock, but they had individual cubicles so there had been no embarrassing moments. In the bags were three pairs of shoes, a pair of fluffy slippers, a pair of ankle boots, three packets of tights, eight tops in varying pastel shades and with differing necklines, a denim jacket, a pair of inexpensive black woollen gloves and two handbags.

Oh, and a skirt. Dave wasn't sure whether he was quite ready for that step, but Shirley had explained reasonably that the idea was for him to wear it at home to get used to the feel of such things. As she had pointed out, the cold weather wouldn't last forever and when that happened he would most definitely feel more comfortable in a skirt, so why not get one - or two - and try them on? There had been a rail of end-of-sale odds and ends and they had found something there, a straight knee-length plain grey skirt in his size.

"Mind yourself! This is hot!"

Shirley put down the tray and unloaded the plates in front of herself and Dave. Debra contributed two bowls of chips and three coffees as well as her own lunch.

"They serve ridiculous amounts of chips here so I thought we'd share between us, that all right?"

They set to their meals, hungry after a morning's concentrated shopping.

"You seem to have bought a lot," Shirley remarked during a pause, "but not really. That's just to get you going. You only have the one pair of jeans, you'll need at least a couple more, I reckon, and perhaps two, three pairs of plain slacks as well. You can't wear jeans everywhere, much though some of the younger population would like it otherwise. And those tops are really casual tops, you'll need to think about more formal wear as well, though that can be left till just before you need it. Remember, if you get stuck, we're only a phone call away and we're happy to help. What else? What can I say... that's a never-ending question. You'll probably need a mac, or at the very least an umbrella, and we haven't even started on underwear!"

Dave looked at what was left of his lasagne. "I was afraid someone would get round to underwear."

"Lingerie, we call it," Debra said. "But underwear is acceptable as well. That's for another day, Dave. We don't want to overload you, after all."

"Though, you can't leave it too long," Shirley cautioned. "All you have so far is three bras, isn't it? And if my Frank's underpants are anything to go by, you'll feel much more comfortable with what our team has to offer. Isn't that so, Debra?"

"Up to a point," Debra said. "You won't be able to wear any of the smaller items, at least not comfortably, and the lacier bits and pieces won't be strong enough to support... the boys, as it were. But you probably wouldn't be interested in that sort of thing anyway, would you?"

"I can't imagine so," Dave agreed. "On the other hand, six months ago I couldn't imagine doing this, could I? Funny how life goes." He thought. "Tell you what. What do you have planned for me this afternoon?"

"Nothing much," Shirley said. She grinned. "First we had to be sure you weren't going to run away screaming."

"It crossed my mind once or twice," Dave said with the hint of a smile. "Now I've seen just how easy it all is, I could stand a little more, I think. How about you two? Shirley, I'm not keeping you from work, am I?"

"No, love. We've both got the day off, as it happens."

Dave could feel the moisture welling into his eyes. "You shouldn't have, really. A day off, just to look after weird old me."

"Not so much of the weird, kiddo, and definitely nothing of the old. You're a friend, Dave, and you're now a woman friend, at that. We look after each other."

"Stop it. You're making me -"

"...and you're allowed to, Dave. Here, use this paper napkin."

Food finished, and drinks nearly so, Debra asked the question. "Thought about a name, then?"

"Yes, actually. My middle name is James, as it happens. And my mother's mother was called Jane. So I think I'll be Jane, after my grandmother."

"That's good," Shirley nodded. "Not named after a pop star, or where you were conceived, or any of that nonsense. Just following a good family tradition of handing down names. So, Jane, ready to hit the sales floor again?"

Jane leaned over to gather up the handles of the carrier bags.

"Yes," she said, and meant it. "Yes, I am."