"You realise how embarrassing this could be for your fiance?"

"What, when he sues you?" I felt so angry.

"I like you Charlie, you've got balls! Oh dear I shouldn't have said that, now you won't like me."

"Go to hell." I suggested very loudly.

"No, I think that's where you're going to go tomorrow if you don't talk to me."

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by:Wassername.
part: 12x14.66666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666'

I had just finished the tutorial and was having a quick cuppa before I started on some letters for the project, when the phone rang.

"Hello?" I said into the handpiece.

"Is that Cathy Watts?"

"Speaking, who is that?" I didn't recognise the voice, but that was nothing new, could be someone from a uni up country.

"You don't know me..." why was my stomach flipping over?

"I work for a well regarded newspaper and would like to speak with you regarding your forthcoming marriage to Lord Cameron."

"Sorry, I don't do interviews," I snapped.

"But I think you'll talk to me?" said the voice full of it's own conviction.

"I wouldn't bet on it." I said and was about to put the phone down.

"Does Lord Cameron realise he's going to marry a boy?"

"I beg your pardon?" I said meaning, what the fuck?

"Does he know you're a boy?"

My head was spinning and I felt sick. I wanted to run screaming, but I needed to know if he was bluffing or if he knew something.

"If I was, I don't think Simon would have asked me." I bluffed back.

"Well now, perhaps he doesn't know."

"Perhaps neither do you."

"Oh I know alright."

"Good for you, even if you are wrong."

"You realise how embarrassing this could be for your fiance?"

"What, when he sues you?" I felt so angry.

"I like you Charlie, you've got balls! Oh dear I shouldn't have said that, now you won't like me."

"Go to hell." I suggested very loudly.

"No, I think that's where you're going to go tomorrow if you don't talk to me."

"What do you mean?" I was feeling very sick at this point.

"Unless you tell us what is going on, we shall go with what we have and that is interesting enough to make the front pages."

"Of what?"

"Oh that would be telling."

"Fuck Off!" I said very loudly.

"Very ladylike I'm sure. Will Viscount Stanebury be impressed? I don't think so."

I said nothing, desperately trying to find a way out of this nightmare.

"I did so enjoy your dormouse juggling." Continued the voice.

I put the phone down and burst into tears. Then pulling myself together, I called Pippa.

"I've just had some seedy tabloid journalist on the phone, they seem to know and they're going to do a story."

"Oh sh..ugar!" she said back. "Prof Agnew has gone to a meeting, what can we do?"

I don't know, I don't know," I said tears rolling down my face.

"Have you spoken to Simon?"

"I can't he's working."

"Send him a text and tell Stella as well."

"Good thinking Batman." I managed to squeeze out in between sniffs, texting while crying makes it much harder to see the letters on the small screen.

'Press seem 2 know about my past. Have sum1 snoopin now, wants i/view. Gonna do runna, back 2 Toms. LOL C.xxx'

I pressed send and then repeated it for Stella. Both were working, so I didn't expect any response. I was in the shit and didn't know what to do. Then I had an idea.

I punched in the digits, it rang the other end. "Hello?" said the male voice.

"Hi Des, it's Cathy Watts."

"Oh yes, we never did get that bike ride."

"If you promise not to try and seduce me, we could yet."

"Erm, that's a big promise."

"I need a favour."

"That's a very big promise," he said with emphasis.

"Simon would kill you."

"True, but it was a nice thought."

I shook my head, here I am going out of my mind and he's playing sex games!

"So what's the problem gorgeous?"

"The press are after me again."

"Still you mean?"

I'm at my wits end and he wants to discuss semantics? "Still, again, it doesn't matter. Some guy just phoned me and asked me if Simon knew he was marrying a boy."

"Wunnerful, the old blackmail stuff, talk to me or we'll fuck you up, yes?"

"Pretty well I think. What should I do?"

"That my sweetheart is a good question. Essentially you can go and talk to him, or you can refuse and see what he has got when he publishes. If you do speak to him, then make sure you have someone in authority who has some experience of dealing with the press, or he'll shaft you royally. How much did you say on the phone?"

I tried to remember, my mind was blank. "I don't remember, not a lot. But he did mention Charlie, my old name."

"Okay, let's assume he has the basis of a story, he's either checking it out or he's not sure enough to go with it. Did you deny it?"

"I can't remember, I sort of did."

"Well if you called up some woman and asked her if she used to be a boy, what would you expect in response?"

"I don't know, she'd either laugh or swear at me."

"Exactly, what did you do?"

"I swore at him eventually."

"Eventually, what does that mean?"

"I don't know," I sobbed sniffing and snorting into the phone.

"Come on girl, pull yourself together, you have to fight back not go all girly on me."

"How can I fight back, I don't even know who I'm fighting," I sobbed, "I've done nothing wrong," I wailed.

"Yeah, just different, Simon is the attraction and the fact that you are so damned pretty." He paused. "He didn't tell you who he was working for or who he was?"

"No, he didn't tell me anything about himself." I was sobbing more quietly now.

"Okay, do you want to really shaft him?"

"Yes, what have I got to do?"

"Give an exclusive to someone else, someone you trust, or at least a paper or TV channel you trust."

"WHAT!" I shouted probably damaging his hearing for several weeks.

"I think you heard what I said, it's the only way you can stop him. If you've gone live first he has no story, plus you may get to control the content a little more."

"What you mean talk to you?"

"If you really wanted to, I suppose I could see you tomorrow, but I'm busy really. Is there a newpaper you trust?"

"One of the heavies, Guardian or Independent, Times or Telegraph at a push."

"I know someone on the Guardian, or you could talk to the Beeb again, same news team."

"Oh God, I don't know Des, Oh I feel sick..." I dropped the phone and rushed to the prep room sink and brought up the soup I'd had for lunch.

"Hi I'm back, sorry, I was sick."

"Okay beautiful, I can appreciate how you feel. Can you get up to Bristol and I'll set up an interview."

"God, it's a long way to go to commit suicide on telly." I felt really negative.

"No, that's a good thing. It will mean it goes out on a national bulletin, so impact locally will be reduced, you've stolen their thunder. Look I've got to go, I have an appointment, ring me in a couple of hours and if you want, I'll set things up. Don't talk to anyone without someone with you, okay?"

"Thanks Des, I'm sorry I was so horrible to you."

"I was an arsehole Cathy, you responded appropriately. Give me a ring."

"Okay, thanks Des." I put the phone down. It was three pm. I had no lights on my bike, so I needed to go in case I had to detour. Shit this was not going to be much fun.

I changed into my cycling gear and told Pippa I was going home. She warned me to be careful, and to remember what happened last time I fell off a bike. She had a point.