Secrets

By Susan Heywood

John finds the body of a neighbour who has been murdered. The police detective assigned to the case deduces that John hides a secret - but the detective has secrets of her own.

Part 13 of 25 — Rejection Escalates

It had obviously been printed on an inkjet printer and I shook as I realised that it could have been there all weekend. I collapsed onto my chair and dissolved into tears.

Celia looked over at me and her smile rapidly turned to a frown. She rushed over and I just shoved the paper at her. “SHIT!” She shouted and, looking as though she was ready to kill someone, she headed straight for Greg’s office.

I was still sobbing when they both arrived at my desk a few moments later. Greg looked at the letter, then grabbed my phone and keyed a number.

“Hello Mel, its Greg Barnes. Someone’s left a hate letter on Jenny Smith’s desk. Can you please let Sue know and also alert security,” He put the phone down and looked at me.

“I don’t think you’ll be staying here this morning; I’ll see if I can get Jane to come and take you home. This is serious and we’re going to get to the bottom of it. It might just be a prank but I don’t think so; I’ll not have hate mail in my office. I thought I might be targeted but perhaps I keep a low enough profile.”

Sue Fuller and the security manager, Jimmy Hines, appeared a couple of minutes later and Greg showed them the letter. Sue Fuller’s face darkened as she read it; she turned to Jim and said,

“I want him or her caught, and quickly. Report it to the police and tell them that someone’s distributing hate mail. I’ll try to get hold of Jane Dyson; I can imagine what she’ll have to say about this.”

She stormed off towards the lift, rapidly followed by Jimmy, who called over his shoulder, “Don’t nobody touch nuffink.” Jimmy had been a military policeman and it was rumoured that nothing escaped his attention, even if it happened on the other side of a solid wall. He was back a few minutes later with a packet, from which he took a pair of surgical gloves. He put the letter and the envelope into a plastic bag and returned to the lift.

Greg, who had been standing watching all this, gently helped me out of my chair and over to his office to await the inevitable visit by the police.

I collapsed into a chair; Celia sat beside me and hugged me. I cried and kept wailing, “Why me? What have I done?” I just wanted my Jane to come and put her arms around me and tell me that everything would be all right. The trouble was that I knew, deep down, that everything wasn’t all right.

They’d managed to contact Jane and let her know the situation. As expected, she was very angry and, just over an hour later, she escorted me from the premises. Two other police officers had arrived and taken statements from me, Celia, Greg, Sue Fuller and Jimmy Hines.

Jane cooked a small meal for us both that evening but I couldn’t manage it. Whenever one bout of crying ended, another began. She cuddled me on the settee.

“Do you want to stay home tomorrow? I could finish at lunchtime.”

“No, I’m not giving in or the bastard will think he’s won.” I got very angry and at one point was looking around for something to smash, just to get the tension out of my body. I didn’t sleep at all well and woke in the morning totally washed out.

I didn’t know it then but that letter was just the beginning. Things were going to get much nastier.

~ O ~

I returned to work on the Tuesday morning. No rotten letter was going to keep me away from work. That Sword of Damocles would still be hanging over me and my life would effectively be on hold or in decline until the perpetrator was caught. I was not naíve enough to believe that this couldn’t happen but I’d be damned if I’d let it ruin my future. In addition, Jane had invested time and effort in trying to resolve it and I felt that I’d be letting her down if I just caved in without a fight. Maybe I was starting to learn that I could face my demons.

~ O ~

Nothing happened for the rest of the week — despite my trepidation when I approached my desk - but I spent an anxious and totally unproductive weekend just awaiting the Monday morning. I did nothing; cooked nothing; eat little and watched no television. If Jane hadn’t been there to look after me, I’d have probably walked under a bus.

~ O ~

Again, on the Monday morning, there was a letter addressed to John Smith.

Oh shit

I didn’t touch it but immediately called security and Greg.

Jimmy opened the envelope with plastic gloved hands and read,

“YOU SICK PERVERT, YOU HAVEN’T REPENTED. NOW GOD WILL PUNISH; YOU WILL BURN IN THE FIRES OF HELL.”

After calming me down, Celia, Greg and I returned to our desks. I wondered what was meant by “God will punish.” I found out that afternoon.

Jane was going to try and come home early that day. At about five o’clock, I rang both home and her mobile number to see if she’d arrived, but got no reply. I sighed, packed up my desk and headed for the lift. There were a few people left in the office and I glanced at Jill, who was working late, and gave her a finger wave as I passed her desk. I emerged at the ground floor, said goodnight to Joe, the duty security officer, and made my way to the exit. The main exit to our building consisted of two sets of double sliding doors that parted as you approached them. I’d just walked through the outer set when there was a bright flash and someone shoved a microphone under my nose. I tried to push past the man but he kept dodging in front of me.

“You’re the tranny that’s stalking women in the office, aren’t you? You might as well give us an interview, mate. We’ll only make it up otherwise,” he said with an evil grin.

I said nothing and eventually managed to push past him; I started to walk as briskly as I could away from the building, but he followed me and kept dodging in front of me with that wretched microphone. I eventually returned to the office - I dread to think what Joe would have done had the reporter tried to follow me. I’ve heard of a brick shithouse; Joe was like a brick shithouse and a half.

I telephoned for a taxi and eventually made it home. Jane had been held up at work and found me in the living room bawling like a baby. In between sobs, I told her what had happened and, needless to say, she was very angry. She asked me to describe the reporter, which I did. She then called the local paper and demanded to speak to a member of management.

“This is Detective Sergeant Jane Dyson. One of your reporters - from the description it sounded like Simon Grieves - and a photographer today harassed my friend Jennifer Smith as she was leaving work at the council offices. This is to let you know that the calls to your office were fuelled by hate and malicious intent. If I see anything in a newspaper, especially yours, or hear of the matter from any other source, then I will not hesitate to sue John Grieves, you, your owner and everyone involved for every penny I can get. I am sure that you understand the meaning of the words slander and libel.” With that, she slammed down the ‘phone.

She held me as I dissolved into floods of tears; they were partly because of the incident, but mainly because of the fact that Jane was supporting me.

~ O ~

Another week went by. I’d been anxious all week and I’m sure that my work suffered as a result On the Monday morning, there was again a letter addressed to John Smith. I called Jimmy, who opened it with gloved hands.

“YOU GOT AWAY WITH THE LAST ONE, YOU PERVERT, THANKS TO YOUR SICK POLICEWOMAN FRIEND. YOUR LUCK HAS FINALLY RUN OUT. IT’S TIME TO RID THE WORLD OF SCUM LIKE YOU.”

Although I watched for signs of opposition, nothing happened for the remainder of that day; Jane finished early and collected me. On Tuesday, after lunch - I usually just had a sandwich and coffee, and had my main meal with Jane in the evening — I went to the ladies’ room. I sipped my drink as I worked, but found myself quickly growing more tired. I quickly fell into a deep sleep.

~ O ~

The next thing I knew was when I woke in the hospital. I had a pounding headache and pains in my throat and stomach. Jane was sitting, dozing in a chair alongside the bed and a nurse was standing over me. “Oh good; you’ve come round. I’ll get the doctor.”

I tried to speak but nothing came out; my throat and chest ached. I was so tired. I quickly drifted off to sleep again.

The next time I woke, they’d removed all the tubes. I managed to croak out, “W…water.” After two sips, I fell asleep yet again.

Eventually I could stay awake long enough to ask, “W...what happened? W…where am I?”

The nurse answered. “You’re in the County Hospital. Do you remember anything?”

“No; it’s all quite hazy.”

“We reckon that your coffee was poisoned; the paramedics had to pump you out as an emergency. I understand that Celia, your section leader, heard a ‘thump’ as you fell off your chair and onto the floor. She phoned for an ambulance.”

“Poisoned? Why? When? H…how did it happen?”

“That’s something that the police, including Detective Sergeant Dyson here, are looking into. Now, just rest: you’ve had a shock to the system.”

~ O ~

I went home two days later and was amazed to learn that I’d been in hospital two days before that. I returned to work on the Monday, a couple of weeks later, determined to resume my life in as normal a way as soon as possible. At least there was no envelope on my desk. I tried to be as nonchalant as I could but I wasn’t fooling anyone. I received sympathetic smiles from Celia, Jill and Maddy. I hadn’t been at my desk for long when Greg called me. Celia followed me in and closed the door behind us.

“Come in, Jenny, have a seat. How are you?”

“Shaken. They told me at the hospital what happened. I don’t understand.”

Greg said, “Did you know that we have a call logger attached to the telephone system?”

Celia nodded, but I was puzzled. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Greg continued, “We did a quick check on calls to the local paper and other places over the last few weeks. Most of the calls were traced to Maddy’s phone.”

I protested. “But Maddy has been so supportive; please tell me that it wasn’t her.” I then dissolved into a flood of tears. As Greg picked up his phone, I screamed “NOOOOO!” and fainted. I woke in the armchair in Greg’s office.

Celia insisted that she take me home; I was shaking so much that I just nodded.

Just before Celia led me out, Greg said, “The call logger identified the calls as being made from Maddy’s phone. Last week, after the second letter, the smoke detector near your desk was temporarily replaced — with a camera. We know who put the letters on your desk and poisoned your coffee — in fact, we’ve film of the culprit. She’s under arrest for making threats, distributing hate mail and attempted murder — after all, she did poison your coffee. I doubt she’ll be able to deny it in the light of the evidence. You should have heard her cursing and swearing; for a so-called Christian, she certainly showed that love had to be on her terms.”

“Attempted murder? She? Please tell me it wasn’t Maddy.”

“It was an unknown quantity of an unknown drug, the results of which are unpredictable; that’s attempted murder. And no, it wasn’t Maddy; she wasn’t even in the office when the calls were made. It was Sarah.”

I hadn’t noticed, when I arrived for work, that Sarah wasn’t in the office. I asked, “How did I upset Sarah? We hardly know each other.”

“It seems that you are an abomination.”

“Oh my God!”

“No, her God.”

“But why?”

“Because you dared to be different from her idea of normal. I’ve met her kind before. If you tick all their boxes, that’s fine; if not, they love you on their terms, and often attempt to cure you by prayer, counselling and brainwashing. If that doesn’t work, they either give up or, more likely, take more drastic action.”

I shook my head. How could someone I barely knew hate me so much? “But I didn’t ask for this! It was her bloody God that got it wrong in the first place! Anyway, I don’t understand. Why did you … Maddy? Earlier?”

“The calls were made from her ‘phone but, as I said, we know that she didn’t make them. We’ve witnesses to prove that Maddy wasn’t even in the office when the calls were made. We’ve enough film of Sarah to make a cast iron case.”

There was no further mention of the incident and Janet was eventually recruited to take Sarah’s place. Sarah was charged as Greg said — she was still protesting that it was “An order from God” as she was led away to prison - and life returned to something approaching normal. I still shiver, though, when I think about that event.

~ O ~

It had been three weeks since I’d visited the London clinic and I had a follow-up appointment with Judy Davenport that morning. She’d just been to Spain for some sun, sea and sand. Certainly, she displayed a super tan.

I had arrived alone; I was dressed for the office as I was going straight to work after my appointment.

“Hello Jenny, you’re looking well; and very smart too, if I may say so. I’ve heard from the London clinic; they seem quite impressed with you and consider you a suitable case for treatment. Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you that but they didn’t say not to, so I have.”

“I’m a bit disappointed,” I confessed, “I had hoped to make faster progress now I’ve transitioned, and especially as I’ve a job, but Ian Stalbridge said I’d have to wait several months while they discuss my case. Why do they need to do that? Why should it take so long? And is he just being pig-headed?”

“That was the first time that they met you.” She put up her hand to silence my protest. “Please, hear me out. That was the first opportunity that they had to assess you and I accept that Ian Stalbridge seems like he isn’t the most tactful of people. Yes, you look very good as a woman, you probably made a very unconvincing man, and they have my letter but I can understand that they would like to get to know you and see some consistency.”

“Why should it take several months? And there are my blood test results and my body shape; I couldn’t be male even if I wanted to be - which I don’t.”

“It may not take that long. And if it does, it may sound like a long time but let’s look upon it as an apprenticeship with them; they almost certainly want to know that you are serious and aren’t likely to back out for some reason. You and I both know that you won’t, but let’s just remember that it’s one of the few medical conditions where the doctor has to rely on what the patient tells him or her. And, as far as I’m aware, the GIC don’t do a physical examination.”

Her rather pointed remark had me shifting a little uncomfortably in my seat. Judy had learned from the blood test results that I had been using mild doses of hormones. We both knew that there were Gender Identity Clinics that would reject anyone who they’d known to take any such action.

“I’ll keep an eye on things to make sure that they don’t leave it an unreasonable time,” she promised, “but I think that you just have to be a little patient. Now, if you had the money to spare, I could send you down the private route and you could be all done and dusted within a year. After all, you did officially start your Real Life Experience on the first of June.”

“Okay; I’ll give them three months but no more. If there’s no progress by then, I’ll try to raise the money by taking out an extra mortgage on my apartment; it’ll take a substantial chunk of my income to pay it off and I’ll probably have to live on home-made soup for the foreseeable future, but I’ll do it.”

“I know you would, Jenny, you’re determined. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; you need every penny you can lay hands on.”

I hadn’t yet done anything about finding a new GP. I mentioned this to Judy.

“I suggest you write to the senior partner of your surgery. Enclose a copy of my letter to the GIC and ask if you can transfer to a more sympathetic doctor. If they don’t oblige, write to the patient liaison manager at your local PCT (Primary Care Trust) and tell them the score. I’d have thought that you’re entitled to a reasonable standard of treatment. I obviously can’t recommend anyone but there is one doctor at your surgery that is youngish and female. I’ve had good reports of her.”

I smiled my thanks and said that I would investigate further. I said goodbye and left for home, then the short walk to the office. I was determined that I wasn’t going to wait for ever for this to be resolved; after all, I had already waited over twenty years. Yes, I knew that there were many people who had no choice but to wait for treatment. There were many people who couldn’t have surgery or even hormones for medical reasons. I also knew that many people were alone, with no friends and no job and I felt very blessed. I returned to my car and drove home. I was wrapped up in my thoughts during the journey; I was lucky that I wasn’t involved in an accident. I stopped the car outside Coleridge House and got out. I was still preoccupied with thoughts of the new GP, my visit to Judy and paying for surgery that I didn’t notice the white Ford Fiesta pull into the car park behind me and stop close by. I wasn’t really aware of what was happening until Celia called to me.

“Jenny! I’ve just chased you halfway around the county.”

“Hello Celia,” I answered, somewhat puzzled, “What’s the problem? Why are you here?”

“I think you ought to sit down,” she said, gently.

I sat on the driver’s seat of her car, with an awful premonition of bad news. “W…what’s wrong?”

“There’s been an accident; it’s your father.”

“W…what happened?” I asked, timidly.

“Your Mother rang the office as she couldn’t get you on your mobile.”

I felt so stupid; I’d forgotten to switch it on that morning after leaving Judy Davenport.

Celia said, “Your dad fell off a ladder and cracked his head. He’s been carted off to hospital.”

“I must go up there,” I said, tearfully.

“Now you sit still for a minute, Jane’s on her way here.”

“You called Jane?” I asked, wondering how Celia knew the number.

“Of course I did, I just called Police Headquarters and asked them to give her an urgent message.”

“Thanks ever so much. I’d better ring my mother.” I turned on my phone and speed-dialled the numbers for her home and mobile. There was no reply to either so I just left messages. “Would you like a coffee? Have you time while Jane gets here?” I asked.

“Ever the practical one, even in a crisis. Yes please.”

We went up to my flat, where Celia told me to sit down while she made the drinks. She then called Greg.

When he answered, she told him that I’d just got home and that she’d stay until Jane arrived. She listened for a minute, then handed the phone to me and said, “Greg wants a word”.

I took the phone and listened for a few moments, then said, “I don’t know any more yet, I’ve tried to call my mother but both the house phone and her mobile are just taking messages, so I assume that she is at the hospital with my father.”

~ You should go up there. I’ll have a word with Sue Fuller and we’ll put you on compassionate leave. Just keep me posted as to what’s going on, would you? ~

“Thanks Greg, that’s so kind of you and one less worry for me.”

~ No problem. We’re a family, alright? ~

I was near to tears when I ended the call. I was still in shock and I felt very humble; everyone was supportive and caring and I was so grateful to have such wonderful friends and colleagues.

Just then, Jane arrived, greeted Celia and hugged and kissed me. “I’m so sorry, what’s the latest?”

I just held onto her and cried. Eventually, I composed myself enough to say, “I don’t know; I’ve tried to phone Mummy but got no reply. She may be at the hospital.”

Celia drank her coffee, went into the kitchen, poured tea for Jane and me, gave us both a hug and told me to keep in touch. She let herself out, knowing that I was now being well cared for. Just then my mobile rang.

“MUMMY! What’s happened?”

My mother related the events of the day. My father was fixing a piece of wood to the frame over a doorway and missed his footing on the ladder. He fell and hit his head and his friends immediately called for an ambulance. He was rushed into hospital with possible concussion. My mother was distraught.

~ It’s all my fault! If I hadn’t suggested the idea he would never have been there and it would never have happened. He’d be here in front of the television. ~

She was sobbing, so I said, “Now stop that: it could easily have happened at home so I won’t have you blaming yourself. Look, I’ve had a word with my boss and I’m coming up to be with you. I’ll catch a train and get a taxi at the other end. I’ll ring when I’m nearly there.”

~ Oh you are a love, are you sure? ~

“Yes, of course I’m sure. Don’t worry; everything will be alright, you’ll see. Does Peter know?”

~ I’ve called and left a message but spent most of the day at the hospital ~

Pleased that my mother had called me, I said, “I’ll ring him again now, I’ll see you later.” With that, I hung up and called my brother. Geena answered. I told her of my father’s accident.

She promised to relay the details to Peter.

I hung up and turned to Jane. “I’ll just phone for some train times and be on my way as soon as possible.”

“No, you won’t.”

“What?”

“No, you won’t, I’ll drive you.”

“But you can’t take time off just like that,” I protested.

“I’m not letting you go alone, you’re upset, and you’re anxious about your father. You’re in no fit state to dash off nearly three hundred miles on a mercy mission. I thought you might need to go up there so I took some leave. Today’s Thursday; I’ve got the weekend off anyway so it’s only a couple of days. I’ll stop the night somewhere and come back in the morning.”

“If you drive me up there, you’ll stay with us. And please plan on more than one night, I need you.”

Jane smiled. “But won’t your mother mind?”

“I’m looking after Mummy, you’re looking after me and I’m looking after you. That’s fair.”

She went to the second bedroom and returned with a holdall. “Come on then, get your bag packed and we’ll get on the road. We should be there by late afternoon and you can visit him this evening.”

I had a sudden thought. “He might not want to see me.”

Jane responded, “If my daughter travelled half the length of the country to visit me after I’d had an accident, I’d want to see her.”

“Yes, but….” I was too busy to notice the expression on her face.

“Come on, let’s go; we’ll stop for fuel, sandwiches and drinks on the way.”

~ O ~

We arrived in Llandudno late in the afternoon. I called my mother to let her know we were nearly there.

~ Hello, darling, you just caught me, I’ve just got in from afternoon visiting; there’s another session from seven o’clock tonight. What do you mean; “we are just outside town”? ~

“Jane drove me up here. I know that you weren’t expecting her as well; she can stay with me, can’t she?”

There were a few moments of silence, which I felt as icy fingers crawling up my back.

~ Yes, I should think so ~

“Okay, see you soon.”

“Well?” asked Jane.

“As I said, you’re staying with us.”

“So your mother agreed?”

“I asked and she didn’t refuse. After having driven me all this way, it would have been churlish of her to insist that you stay in a hotel.”

We were greeted with hugs, and a kiss for me, when we arrived. My father was still unconscious when my mother had left him that afternoon: they’d done scans and so on at the hospital and, thank goodness, there was no fracture. They didn’t know if there was any brain damage, but they’d keep him in for at least a day or two anyway for observation. His age might have been against him; a younger man would probably recover more quickly. There was also the boxing he did in the navy; that might be a factor now that he’d suffered another blow to the head. The hospital promised to ring my mother at home should there be any change either way.

Jane asked, “Have you had anything to eat today?”

“Not much, only a sandwich; there doesn’t seem to have been time. And anyway, I’ve not really been feeling all that hungry.”

“Would you like a snack on the way to the hospital tonight?”

My mother sighed, “I’m really not bothered.”

I looked at her. “I’ll go and put the kettle on; we could all do with some tea at least.” While I was waiting for the kettle to boil, I rummaged in the fridge. I called out, “Mummy, do you fancy an omelette? At least you’ll have something to eat; it’s light and easy to digest and won’t take long to make.”

“Okay love, if you insist.”

“I do, I’m not having you passing out due to hunger. Jane?”

“I could get something while you two are visiting your father.”

“I’m not going to visit him,” I said, quietly, “I’ll come with you while Mummy’s in the hospital.”

My mother looked at me in amazement. “You’ve come all this way and you’re not even going to see him?”

I was silent for a moment, gathering my thoughts, and then answered, “He doesn’t want to know me. I can’t just spring a visit on him without forewarning him. No, I’ll wait until he regains full consciousness. If you tell him that I’m here and he wants to see me, then I’ll go in. But I came here to be with you. If my father wants to accept me, that’s fine. If not, then I’ll never bother him again.”

“Oh love….”

“No, I’ve made up my mind and that’s the way it must be. I’ll not impose on him when he’s just had an accident; it’s not fair to him.”

“I might have known,” mumbled Jane.

I changed the subject. “Mummy, are you driving to the hospital or taking a taxi?”

“Well,” she said, “Our car is playing up a bit at the moment; your father has it in the garage and is trying to find out what’s wrong. I was going to call for a taxi.”

“Can we drive Mummy to the hospital and collect her? Then we could go to a pub for something to eat?” I asked Jane as I turned to go to the kitchen.

“Okay,” Jane sighed.

In The Hospital

When Ellen arrived at Bill’s bedside for the evening visiting, she was relieved to notice that he was conscious and seemed more aware of his surroundings. What was more important from her point of view was that he recognised her.

He smiled, weakly.

“Hello, love; I’ve been very silly by all accounts. I’ve been leaping up and down ladders all my life and never fallen off. Then I have to go and cause all this fuss, particularly when we’re supposed to be helping the elderly. At least they weren’t about when I fell; that would’ve given the old codgers heart attacks for sure.”

At least his short-term memory seemed to be intact. They talked for a while, discussing the circumstances of the accident, the diagnosis and treatment, the food, the surroundings, everything. Bill had regained consciousness after Ellen had left for the afternoon, and one of the nurses had thoughtfully brought him some toast and a cup of tea.

“Oh, I’m so pleased to see you on the mend,” Ellen sniffed; she tried unsuccessfully to fight back tears of relief. “You gave us a nasty turn, we’ve all been worried about you and Jenny’s come all the way up here. She phoned Peter, and Geena said that he’ll try to pop in. You don’t seem any the worse for the accident and I just hope that there aren’t any complications.”

Bill’s face fell. “Well, I suppose John couldn’t visit his old dad.”

“That’s selfish and unfair!” responded Ellen, “John visited us nearly every month since we’ve been here until his transition; he doesn’t exist anymore and hasn’t done for two months, as you well know. Jenny doesn’t even have any ‘John’ clothes and never really looked like a ‘John’ anyway.”

“Don’t I know it!” said Bill, sarcastically.

“Look, we asked her if she was coming to see you and she said that she wouldn’t; she just said that you didn’t want to see her. So she’s travelled all the way up here just to keep me company; I think that says a lot about her. Anyway, I don’t want to tire you out. They say they’re keeping you in for another day or so for observation so you might be able to come home on Saturday. Jane drove me here and they’re staying with me. If you don’t want them at home when you get there, then they’ll just leave and you’ll never see Jenny again.” With that, she kissed him goodbye and walked out.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jane and I were talking in the pub. We’d gone for a meal after taking my mother to the hospital. We talked about my parents and Peter and then I asked, “You never talk about your own parents; you said that you haven’t seen them since you left for university?”

“No, I don’t visit them or talk about them. As I said, I blame them for Rosalie’s death. They gave me a lot of grief, especially when I came out as a lesbian and I’m as certain as I can be that one or both of them arranged for me to be attacked. They were both very angry when I wanted to join the police. I know where to find them but, if I never see them again, it will be too soon. I don’t suppose they even think of me now. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only family I’ve got. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to poison the rest of my family against me; I certainly haven’t heard from any of them for years, other than my Aunt Sophie. The only other one to take any interest was my maternal grandmother; she left me some money when I turned twenty-one. She died last year and I still miss her terribly. She and Aunt Sophie accepted me for what I was, not what others expected of me. I changed my name when I went to university so that I could cut all ties with my mother and step-father.”

I was stunned. “So you haven’t always been Jane Dyson?”

“No.” She laughed. “We had a Dyson vacuum cleaner in the apartment that I rented before I went to Buckingham; it was the first name I thought of.”

She didn’t look as if she wanted to tell me any more and I thought now wasn’t the time to push it, especially as we were nearly three hundred miles from home.

“I am so sorry, you must feel all alone sometimes,” I said tearfully.

“Yes, sometimes. And then I think about what I do have and that cheers me up no end. Come on, let’s go to the car, I need a snog.”

I laughed and, getting up from the chair, headed for the ladies’ room. Just then my mobile ‘phone rang. “Hello Mummy, all ready?” I raised a questioning eyebrow at Jane, who nodded. “We’ll just be a few minutes,” I said, and ended the call. “I guess you’ll have to wait for your snog, Miss Dyson.”

“Drat!” Jane muttered under her breath as she followed me into the ladies room. Once inside the door, though, she made sure that I definitely needed to touch up my lipstick. On the way to the hospital, I thought about what she’d told me. I shivered a little; she asked if I was cold and I just said that I was thinking about my father.

Is that the truth? Can I believe what she said? She does seem to have a lot of money but what about the identity business?

End of part 13