Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Bonzi & Tiddles.
part 120.

It took me some time to get to sleep, Stella had really annoyed me with her silly mind games. I know we all play them to some extent, but she was a veteran gamer. I suppose as well, I was naive and very trusting. If she told me black was white, I would probably believe her.

I'm tempted to say that I don't go around deceiving folks myself, but that wouldn't be quite true, until I have the surgery required to complete the transformation, am I not deceiving all those who don't know about me? I didn't know, because it was this side of me which felt more real than the earlier manifestation, but that could be a self deception. Why is life so difficult? It all seems to be based on paradoxes, I think I may be feeling a bit like Schrodinger's cat.

I must have slept at some point because I woke up. I was in a sweat and had been dreaming that Monica had managed to get me to stay at their house or suite at the hotel, and after I'd gone to bed and fallen asleep, she had entered my room and got into bed with me!

It took me a few moments to remember where I was, I sleepy and very disoriented. Finally, the cottage came to my memory and I calmed down. I went for a wee and returned to my bed and sleep. Stella woke me about seven, telling me she had to go to work soon. I dressed in record time deciding that I could shower and breakfast back at my room. I also thought I should touch base with Dr Thomas.

At three that afternoon, I was waiting outside her room for the rushed appointment I managed to make. I dressed up for the event, wearing a dress and jacket, some makeup and my boots. Using the car meant I could arrive looking moderately tidy.

"Cathy Watts," was called from her door, and I jumped up putting down my three year old copy of 'Country Life' and walked towards her office.

"Well Cathy, how's it going?" she greeted me, shaking my hand warmly.

I brought her up to the present leaving out no detail I thought she needed to know about. I even mentioned the nasty letters.

"So how is this young man, Simon, you said?"

"Yes Simon, he's going to be okay it's just going to take a few weeks for the arm and his sternum to heal."

"So was it deliberate?"

"I don't think so, they arrested and charged two poachers with firearms offences, including unlawful wounding, but I don't know how serious that is."

"So tell me about him," she instructed.

"Like I already mentioned, he's a nice gentle sort of chap. He's got a very well paid job, says he loves me, he does know the truth now, and he spoils me rotten."

"So what does he do?"

"He works for a merchant bank or some such thing, he buys and sells commodities I think. He makes them a great deal of money and consequently earns quite a bit himself. I suppose it helps when Daddy owns the bank."

"What?"

"Yeah, his father is majority shareholder in the bank."

"This isn't some fabrication on his part is it?"

"No, he's no Walter Mitty, I've met his father and step-mother."

"And this is a real bank?"

"Yes. Did I mention his dad is a viscount?"

"Oh my God Cathy, is this a good idea?"

"Don't you think I haven't asked myself this same question a million times?"

"You seem to have come a very long way in such a short time. I mean losing your mother, then your father having the stroke and then this strange, titled family who seem to embrace you into its bosom so whole-heartedly. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Yes, I know. I mean it's only Simon and Stella who know about me, his parent's don't. His step-mum is strange anyway, she's bisexual and very predatory."

"How do you know?"

"I was on her menu, but managed to skip tables."

"Ouch!" offered the doctor.

"They're all barmey, so I fit in quite well."

Dr Thomas laughed and asked, "What do you intend to do about the poison-pen letters?

"I don't know, I'd like to resolve it wthout police involvement."

"Why?"

"I don't want them involved because it could mean more publicity."

"Any idea who is writing them?"

"Absolutely none."

"Or why?"

"Dunno, I can only think it's someone who isn't comfortable with my changeover."

"It sounds like it, but they obviously are clever enough to get around the camera you rigged up, so they're not stupid."

"No, then the last one came through the ordinary mail. So it looks as if that may have rattled them a bit."

"Yes, it could have done. I think you should inform the police, but I accept your reasons for not doing so."

"I don't want any publicity, which is why I don't want to model for the posters they want to do."

"I can see your point there Cathy, that could be asking for trouble. At the same time, I understand why they want you to do it."

"Why, because I can't?"

"Because you are an expert who is involved in the study and you happen to be a very attractive young woman, the sort they use for modelling such posters."

"Why don't they use men for the same thing?"

"The convention is to use women because they are primarily selling things to men. This is especially true of things like cars or sports equipment where they want the stuff to be seen as sexy or attracting beautiful women. Since when, it has become the norm almost. You can't even buy a womans' magazine without some bimbo staring off the cover with perfect teeth and hair. So mens' magazines tend to be even more direct, with breasts or more on show."

"Seems silly to me."

"Me too Cathy, but that's the way of the world. I don't make the rules I only try to help people integrate with them a little more easily."

I took my leave and headed back to my room, stopping at the corner shop to chat with my favourite Asian shopkeeper and find something for tea.

I checked with Southmead, Dad was still poorly but slightly better, he'd stopped being sick and they were trying to boost his fluid intake.

I went to see Simon, taking him a selection of choc bars and fizzy drinks. He was feeling in pain and not very communicative. I sat holding his hand and kissing him every so often. I wanted him back at the cottage, but I wasn't sure how I could care for him, I was no nurse. As I went to leave, he mentioned coming home, and I eventually managed to flannel my way through it by saying Stella was organising it all.

It was dark as I found my way back to the car park, I was tired and concerned. Simon had been doing so well but today had looked worse than yesterday. I decided he was possibly tired after all the visitors yesterday.

I sat in the car and saw something attached to the windscreen. My first reaction was I'd overrun my parking ticket or parked out of the designated space. My heart sank, then I thought they would clamp it rather than post a message on the car. At least that was what the signs said. I looked at the ticket, I still had about five minutes on it to run.

There was only one way to sort this out, I got out of the car and picked up the envelope. The familiar shape and colour, then the same handwriting took me by surprise. I shook as I tore it open.

'We are watching you, nice car, very girly for a boy don't you think? Oh we forgot, you like to pretend you're a girl don't you? The day of reckoning aproacheth!

An ill-wisher.'

I sat and read the message several times, each one making me feel more frightened. I pressed the internal locking mechanism and sat feeling very frightened in my little car. What if 'they' were watching me? I needed to get away from the car park and quickly.

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This will be the last one until I get home from hospital and am able to access my 'puter. I hope it won't be more than a few days.
Hugs to all my readers,
Angharad (and Bonzi).