October 2013 - COSTUMES CONTEST

I hate Halloween

by Tanya Allan

I Hate Halloween: Copyright 2013 Tanya J. Allan

The author asserts her moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited.

This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. All persons and many places are fictitious, Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.

The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone.

~o~O~o~

Andrew is persuaded to go to the Halloween party, but trusts his friend Melissa to select the right costume. Unbeknown to him, Melissa has an ulterior motive and Andrew is about to face a very different future to that he expected.

1.

Rain does things to light. The police patrol car was sitting so the two occupants had a good view of the pub - The Square and Compass, but out of the way of the traffic and casual vision. One had to know it was there to be able to see it, despite the garish, florescent markings, with the dead giveaway obvious word POLICE in large blue letters down each side. The light bar on the roof was of the new, streamlined and compact variety, so was not immediately apparent. However, the blue strobe halogen lights were amazingly bright when illuminated in an emergency.

They were not illuminated now.

The time was just after ten-thirty in the evening, and for Constables Mark Hammerton and Steve Priest, eleven o’clock couldn’t come quick enough. It had been a long shift.

The wipers were not switched on, as the men sat in the darkness, watching the pub as the rain lashed down on the car. Streams of water trickled down the windscreen, diffusing the street lights and those of passing cars.

“I hate Halloween!” muttered Steve.

Mark laughed, for they’d both expressed the same sentiments several times during their shift.

“Not long to go, now, mate,” he said, looking at his watch.

They’d only been back on patrol for half an hour, having spent the previous two hours dealing with a nun, a vicar and a tart that had got into a scrap at the Mucky Duck in the High Street.

That salubrious establishment always ran a Vicars and Tarts evening on Halloween, which usually ended up in violence and a lot of broken glass.

This year was no exception. This time the tart (a seventeen stone rugby player in drag called Nigel) managed to upset one of the nuns, which resulted in the vicar (the nun’s husband) breaking a bottle of beer over the tart’s head.

There then followed a brawl the required police attendance. Often the mere presence of the boys and girls in blue is sufficient to quieten things, but not this time.

Failing to heed the officers’ directions to stop fighting meant that the tart was tazered and the vicar received a liberal spray of CS in his face when he tried to bite a police dog. The nun, almost unable to stand unaided still managed to annoy PS Priest by trying to wrestle her spluttering husband from the back of the police van.

All three ended up being arrested and removed to the police station. It had taken a while, as all three detainees were too drunk to be dealt with in the short term. The officers had to establish facts, identities and previous records and then take witness statements from those sober enough to be able to focus and to recollect events without the inclusion of pink elephants.

Speaking of which, the officers watched a young man wearing a pink elephant suit relieve himself against the roses outside the Square and Compass.

“What a pillock,” said Mark.

“Yeah, but let’s face it, it’s probably cleaner there than inside the gents in the pub.”

The elephant finished urinating into the roses and then staggered off to look for a bus stop.

The officers looked at each other and silently agreed that he wasn’t worth further intervention.

It was then they saw the witch.

One minute she wasn’t there, and the next there she was, sitting side saddle-style on the broom stick. The men hadn’t actually seen her fly, but neither was certain that she had both feet on the ground when they initially caught sight of her, but they both put the illusion down to the over-active imaginations and general weariness after a long shift.

She had the lot; the black cloak, the pointy hat, the tatty black ankle length dress and the broomstick. However, apart from the long, jet-black and shimmery hair that streamed down her back from beneath the brim of the jaunty hat, all similarities to hags in literature were conspicuously absent.

On her feet were about the sexiest high-heeled boots that either policeman recalled seeing, and, as she got off her broomstick, both observed the suspender belt(garter-belt for our American speakers) that held up her sheer stockings.

“What the f….?” said Mark.

In the artificial street lights, her face was pale, but was missing the hook nose, any warts or even the vaguest hint of evil intent. Instead, she was stunningly attractive. She took a padlock and chain from the depths of her cloak and attached her broomstick to a bike rack through a custom-made ring that was attached to the end of the handle.

With a cheery wave and a smile to the officers, she entered the pub.

“Bugger me,” said Steve. “Where the fuck did she come from?”

“No idea, mate, I was watching the elephant.”

“She was a bit of all-right, eh?”

“I wouldn’t climb over her to get to you,” grinned his friend.

At that moment, a car left the pub car park, narrowly missing the lamp-post and lurching off down the road, weaving a zig-zag pattern as if to deter U-boats and their torpedoes.

“Oh no, not another piss-artist behind the wheel. Tell me that wasn’t Fred Slade?”
Mark said, starting the patrol car’s engine.

“It’s his car, so it probably is him. Isn’t he on bail for drink-drive last week?” Steve replied.

“Yup, he’s a dick! Well, come on, at least it’ll get us a couple of hours overtime in the warmth.”

With the blue lights flashing, the police car sped off in pursuit of the weaving Ford.

2.

Gathering her billowing cloak around her, Sally entered the pub. She wasn’t completely happy wearing such a silly costume, but such was the season that it would go un-noticed on this night of all nights. If she arrived in her usual clothes, she’d stand out more and look ridiculous in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt.

The air was thick with the fug from warm human bodies and boozy breath. A log fire was dying in the grate, as there was no real need to put anything more on. Music from a small live band was almost drowned out by the high level of cheery conversation and singing.

She stood by the door for a moment, looking.

Various semi-intoxicated Don-Juans checked her out and shouted to her with vague propositions that might or might not involve various forms of anatomical conjugation at some point in the future.

She showed no interest in the men or their propositions, simply dismissing them with a casual wave of her delicate hand.

Immediately and inexplicably each of the men forgot that they had even seen her, let alone offered to introduce their most unpleasant parts of their anatomy to her.

There were a lot of people in the pub, all seats were taken and people in various costumes sat or stood wherever there was room. The dance floor by the band was packed so tightly that any movement through the, and I hesitate to use the word, dancers was nigh on impossible.

Sweaty and harassed bar crew were in constant demand, with the customers three deep at the bar, waiting to order yet more booze. The Annual Halloween party was in full swing.

There.

In the corner, as far from the band as one could get was a circular table with a circular bench seat beneath the bay-window and for chairs on the open side. Five people were squeezed into the bay, with someone on each of the chairs opposite them. Indeed, one young woman sat on the knees of a large young man on one of the chairs.

Seated on the end of the bench-seat, probably only just on the seat at all, was what appeared to be an attractive young woman in a sexy vampire costume.

She had long hair, not that dissimilar in length to Sally’s hair, but auburn in colour.

Her face was made up to look pale, with very dark makeup around the eyes and a cruel red slit for a mouth that was festooned with the obligatory plastic fangs. Her diaphanous white dress looked as if it belonged to a bygone age, but the rather austere black leather bomber jacket seemed wholly out of keeping with the rest of her appearance.

Briefly Sally looked to see if there was an alternative route to the girl.
There wasn’t so she simply started walking towards the homogenous lump of humanity that was pretending to be a group of dancers.

As she approached the lump, a gap opened and, in a similar manner to the Israelites crossing the Red Sea, as she walked the gap opened in front of her and closed up as she passed.

The girl at the table looked as if she would much rather be somewhere else, which was true. Surrounded as she was by strangers and a couple work colleagues, she did not really count any of them as friends. For a start, she knew that at least one knew she wasn’t really a girl.

His (for she was really a he and not a she) real name was Andrew. His few true friends called him Andy. His colleagues called him all manner of names; some nice and many not so nice.

He experienced mixed emotions, for although one person knew, she wasn’t telling, and everyone else believed him to be a genuine girl. Two of those present knew him as Andrew and when Melissa had introduced him and her friend Andrea, then hadn’t put two and two together — yet.

He took a sip of his diet coke, wondering how or why he managed to let his co-worker talk him into this charade. It was all Melissa’s fault, he thought bitterly.

3.

It had come about by accident; as these things usually do. About two weeks previously he’d been in the office compiling a budget report for one of the heads of department when Melissa popped her head round his partition.

“Andy, can I ask your opinion?” she asked.

Andrew, with his mind in the middle of his report, nodded vacantly; hoping she’d go away as soon as he gave her what she wanted.

“Should I go as a nurse or as Wonder-woman?”

He sat there blinking at her for a moment, wondering which planet she was on.

“Duh, the party, it’s a costume party, so I’ve two choices; a nurse and Wonder-woman,” she said in a voice that women reserve for children and very stupid people.

Andrew stared briefly at her not inconsiderable chest.

“Wonder-woman,” he said without hesitation. Besides, he had a nasty memory of a particularly rough nurse when in a hospital for the removal of his tonsils as a child.

“You reckon?” she asked, as if that wasn’t the opinion she was seeking.

“Your figure is better suited for that particular costume,” he said, hoping that would be enough.

It wasn’t.

“The nurse’s costume is a particularly sexy one,” she pointed out.

“Then go as a nurse,” he said, knowing as soon as he said it, it was the wrong thing.”

“You don’t think I’d make a cute Wonder-woman?”

He placed his head in his hands and sighed.

“Melissa, you’d look great in either. Which one do you want to wear?”

“I’m not sure, which is why I’m asking you.”

“Wonder-woman,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Great, you’re a star!” she said hugging him.

Now he really hoped she’d bugger off and leave him alone.

She didn’t; instead she lurked in his office, looking at his calendar of exotic places.

“What costume are you wearing?” she asked.

“I’m not. I’m not going.”

“You didn’t go last year,” she pointed out.

“I’ve never been,” he corrected her.

“Why not?”

“Parties aren’t really my scene,” he admitted. “Besides, I hate Halloween.”

“Is it because you’re gay?” she asked, quite innocently.

Andrew sighed.

“I’m not gay, Melissa. I’m, well, let’s just say I’m a mess.”

“Billy in sales said that you told him that you should have been born a girl. Isn’t that the same as being gay?”

Andrew closed his eyes as if in pain.

Billy was gay and had assumed that Andrew was too. They’d gone for a drink together and Billy had been very open and pleasant about his proposition. He had been quite disappointed when Andrew had rejected him. However, probably so as to make the disappointed young man feel less hurt, Andrew had shared what he had rarely shared with anyone; his conviction that he had been born in the wrong body.

Billy should have kept his mouth shut, but obviously hadn’t.

“It’s not the same as being gay,” he said wearily. “Billy tried to hit on me and, well, he wanted to know why I never went out with women. I just shared something that I felt would make him feel better at the time, that’s all. He had no right telling anyone else.”

“Does that mean you’re having a sex change?”

Andrew felt the anger begin to bubble inside his chest. The anger was partly directed towards her, but also towards himself for being a coward and of being terrified of hurting and upsetting those close to him. He was also not a little afraid of starting something that was so final, so different, so…..

“No! Just leave it, why can’t you?” he snapped.

She didn’t take the hint.

Instead she came closer and regarded him with her head tilted slightly to one side.

“You’d make a pretty girl,” she said, looking at his slight figure and his attractive, almost too feminine face with overly long brown hair, which he kept in a pony-tail.

“Do you dress up ever?”

“No,” he lied.

“Is that why you keep long hair?”

“No,” he lied again.

“Would you take me to the party?” she asked.

“What?” he asked; surprised.

“You know I’ve broken up with Simon after I caught him going off with Heather in the publicity department?”

“I didn’t, no.”

“Well, he thought I was on a sales meeting, but it was cancelled so I came home to the flat to find them in bed together. It’d been going on for months, apparently. How could I have been so blind?”

Andrew said nothing as he fought to quieten his rising anger.

“Anyway, I thought it would be nice if we went together. What do you think?” she continued.

“I don’t think so, Melissa, but thanks for the thought.”

“I don’t want to go by myself,” she said, almost petulantly.

“What about Colin, he’s always fancied you?” he asked.

“What; Colin with the stammer? No way, he’s hardly my type.”

“He only stammers when he’s nervous,” Andrew pointed out.

“Then he’s always nervous when I’m near him. He can hardly get a word out. I’m not sure that would make for a scintillating evening.”

Andrew smiled.

“You wouldn’t need a shower,” he said, rather naughtily playing on poor Colin’s affliction.

To his relief, Melissa laughed.

“See, you’re funny and, well, I feel safe with you. Are you sure I can’t tempt you to come with me?”

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Melissa, sensing a chink in his armour, continued to harry him.

“So, what’s so much better fun than coming to the party with me?”

Andrew thought about his home-life. His parents had divorced a good ten years now, as his father took a job in Dubai in 2001 and had never returned. He’d been at school at the time, but rarely remembered seeing his father for more than a couple of days at a time ever. He was an engineer in the oil industry, and his particular skills were in pipelines and pumping stations. Mostly his work seemed to be located in desert regions, such as the Middle East, or cold areas like Alaska and Siberia.

His mother developed MS just after the divorce. Andrew was convinced that somehow his father’s desertion had triggered the disease. He couldn’t prove it, but as he had virtually nothing to do with his father, he just got on with life as best he could. He knew he was transgendered, but also knew it would kill his mother if she ever found out that her precious little boy wasn’t what she was so proud of.

“I have to look after my mother,” he said. “She has MS and needs me.”

“It’s just a couple of hours. I mean, Andy, you come to work for eight hours during the week, who looks after her when you’re at work?”

“She gets home-visits from a carer during the day. But I’m all she has in the evenings.”

“Is she in a wheel chair?”

“Most of the time. She can walk a bit, but she finds it increasingly difficult.”

“Oh, Andy, I’m sure she’d like you to get out and enjoy yourself occasionally, wouldn’t she?”

Andy knew the answer to that one. His mother was always telling him to go out and meet a nice girl. He was getting rather fed up with it. If he were to go with Melissa, perhaps it might shut her up for a bit.

He hesitated, so Melissa pounced.

“I knew it! Go on, Andy, just one party, and I promise I’ll pay for the taxi and any drinks.”

Before he really understood why, he found he’d accepted her offer.

“Brilliant!” she squealed with delight, punching the air. “Can I do your costume?”

Not having any idea how to find a costume, he numbingly nodded.

“Great, now, promise me that whatever it is, you’ll be a sport and wear it?”

“Why, what is it gong to be?”

“I’m not sure, but it’ll be a secret until the night. Come round my place before, and I can help you get ready.”

“I’m not sure about this. Can’t I just get something from the local costume shop?”

“No, you’ll be boring. I want the world to see the proper you.”

“On one condition,”

“What?”

“If I’m not happy, I can drop out and not go.”

“Whatever,” she said, dismissing the very idea. “I’ll see you later.”

She was gone and Andrew had a very bad feeling about the whole thing.

His mother, on the other hand, was delighted when he told her.

“Have I met Melissa?” she asked.

“No mum.”

“Is she nice?”

“She’s okay; a bit scatty, but quite pretty and likes a laugh,” he said.

“I think it’s a lovely idea. Have you been going out with her for long?”

“I’m not going out with her, this is the first time.”

“How romantic,” his mother said, beaming at him like a Cheshire cat that has just produced kittens.

He shook his head, as no matter how hard he tried, she wouldn’t see the truth.

Melissa, on the other hand was on the phone to her friend.

“Hi, well, it worked as you said it would. Are you sure about this?”

She listened for a moment, nodding and biting her lip. She was also frowning, as if worried about something.

“No, he actually admitted it. I told him that Billy had told me, I just hope he doesn’t confront Billy about it.”

The frown vanished, and she looked relieved.

“He has? Brilliant! Oh, this is going to be so cool. What about his mother?”

“Will that work?”

“Okay. So, what costume do you think will be best?”

“Fine; if you drop it off in the morning, I’ll get him to my place at about five in the evening. I’ll see you later,” she said, disconnecting the call. For a moment she stared into the distance with a knowing smile on her face.

4.

The disguised and self-conscious Andrew sipped his diet coke once more, looking round the circle of people at the table. Melissa was talking to Bruce Singleton, a new guy in the Sales team. He had not met Andrew as Andrew, so had accepted that she was a girl called Andrea without question. He looked the part in a Captain America costume.

Actually, Melissa had been great, even after Andrew had thrown a paddy when seeing the costume for the first time.

“Look, just let me help you look the part, and if you really don’t feel that you can do this, we’ll try something less feminine, okay?”

After a little persuasion, Andrew let her help him dress. After the makeup went on and his newly washed hair was brushed out, he stood trembling, regarding the pretty young vampire in the mirror.

“Is that really me?” he asked, unconsciously sounding more like a girl than a boy.

“Oh yes. She’s been there all the time, hasn’t she?”

The diaphanous dress accentuated the breast-forms and hip shapes. His slender and beautiful legs were clad in delicious stockings, and the shoes were simply divine. He tottered slightly uncertainly on the heels, but they made him walk like a woman.

He looked far too real for his own good. He started to cry as the pressure that had been tightly bound in his inner-being was released.

Melissa told him off in no uncertain terms and repaired the heavy eye makeup.

The one compromise was that Melissa allowed him to wear his old leather jacket. It was raining after all, and there was no allowance made in the costume for rain.

They’d taken the taxi together, and it was almost at the pub when Andrew realised that he had not objected up to this point. However, stepping out of the taxi and actually entering the crowded pub was a crucial moment. Somehow, Melissa persuaded him to follow her. Despite feeling as if he wanted the world to end, no one guessed the truth.

Sally met Melissa’s eyes, giving her friend the briefest nod.

Melissa jumped up and made room at the table. Sally squeezed round and sat next to Andrew.

“This is my friend Sally. She runs a small health-food shop just down the road,” Melissa said, going on to introduce her to everyone at the table. When she got to Andrew, she simply said, “This is Andrea from work.”

Melissa then promptly disappeared to get some more drinks in.

“Having fun?” Sally asked the shy vampire.

Andrew smiled weakly.

“It’s okay. Not really my scene, though,” he replied, hoping his voice would no give his secret away.

“Oh, that’s a lovely costume, you look great. Why’s it not your scene?”

Shrugging Andrew attempted to find the words.

“I don’t get out much; my mum isn’t well, so I have to look after her.”

“That’s sweet. There are few loving daughters like you around. Most just want to have a good time. Still, I think it’s nice you get out on special occasions,” Sally said.

“Halloween isn’t really special. It’s just an excuse for people to have a party.”

“It’s a time when people can let their hair down and be who they really want to be,” said Sally, meeting Andrew’s eyes.

Andrew felt something akin to an electric shock as he looked into Sally’s dark eyes. They were brown eyes, but so dark as to appear almost black. He wondered briefly if she wore black contact lenses as part of her costume.

“No, I don’t, they’re just naturally dark,” Sally replied with a smile.

Andrew couldn’t remember actually voicing his thought.

“You didn’t. Why don’t you dance with young Bruce, as that’s what I think he’s trying to say?”

Andrew looked up and saw that Bruce was standing trying to be heard above the din.

“I can’t,” he said.

Bruce didn’t hear.

“Go on, you know you want to,” Sally said.

Leaving behind her jacket and almost in a daze, the vampire stood and allowed Captain America to take her hand and lead her onto the sardine-tin like dance floor. For a moment, Andrew felt light headed. Andrew wondered if Melissa hadn’t spiked his Coke, but then the dizziness passed and the tingles started.
The girl looked down at her feet, for that is where the feelings started. They rose up both legs and into her groin, where they burned with a cool-fire, rising up her torso to her breasts and then up her neck, down her arms and then vanishing.

The girl stood there, unable to move and feeling very strange. She noted that Captain America still held her hand; the hand with the deep red nails and the pretty bracelets on the wrist. Her hand.

“Are you okay?” Captain America asked.

Andrea experienced a blank moment.

He repeated the question.

Shaking her head, she smiled in a vague sort of way.

“Sorry, stood up too fast. I’m fine,” she said, allowing him to pull her onto the floor.

The crush of bodies meant that he enveloped her in a protective embrace, into which she seemed to fit beautifully.

The noise precluded any attempt at conversation, so she closed her eyes and permitted the music to take her over, as she swayed in time.

Her mind was strangely fuzzy, so as she danced, she tried to clear it. She was brought back to the reality of the moment as she felt Captain America’s hand grasp her right buttock quite firmly and caress it.

Initially outraged and afraid, but unsure why, she stopped moving and opened her eyes.

“Sorry, but you have such a sexy bum,” he said, smiling beneath his blue mask.

Self-consciously her hands immediately moved to her hips. Through the thin material she could feel only her own flesh and her wispy undergarments.

Automatically her hands flew to her chest.

Instead of what she believed were there, she felt her own, very real and very full breasts held in place by a brassiere.

“Are you okay?” he asked, bellowing above the din.

“I need some air!” she said, panicking.

Like a true superhero, he forced a passage for them both to the side door to the pub’s garden. Moments later she stood in the moist evening air, gulping fresh air as if it was rationed.

Captain America took off his mask, shaking his short hair free. His hair glistened with sweat.

“You’re right, it’s damn hot in there,” he said.

Andrea didn’t hear him, as she now discovered three facts.

One; her chest, ample as it was, was all her own.

Two; she was definitely not wearing either breast-forms or hip-shapers, and….

Three; what she had between her legs was not what she woken up with this morning. Hell, it was a completely different arrangement to what she possessed when she walked into the pub.

Or was it?

“Feeling faint?” Bruce asked, looking concerned.

“I, I’m, ..I’m not..” she started to say.

He took her hand and led her to a wooden bench. There was an awning above, protecting it from the rain.

“Sit, just for a while. Would you like some water, or something?”

He watched her, feeling slightly concerned as the very pretty girl appeared to have lost something. Clearly she was wearing a dress that had no pockets, and he could see that there was nothing concealed anywhere, unless… No, he put that thought out of his mind, even if she did appear to need to check that region as well.

“What’s the matter; have you lost something?”

Andrea looked up at him, as if seeing him properly for the first time.

“Bruce, right?”

He grinned, pleased that she had remembered his name.

“Yup, and you’re Andrea, yeah?”

She nodded.

“This might sound daft, but have we met, before this, I mean?”

He shook his head.

“No, Melissa said you work in finance. I think I’ve seen you about, but we’ve not spoken.”

“You’ve seen me?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Have I changed?”

He smiled.

“Just a bit. You didn’t have fangs and blood dribbling down your chin the last time.”

“What was I wearing?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“I don’t remember exactly.”

“Oh,” she said, clearly relieved.

“It was a skirt or a dress, as I remembered admiring your legs!” he said.

Andrea’s heart almost stopped.

“When was that?”

“Three or four days ago, I think.”

It was then she remembered the woman — Sally, was it?

“We can go back in now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I need to ask Sally something.

“Who?”

“Sally, the girl who came late.”

He looked blank.

“She’s dressed as a witch.”

He shook his head again.

“Sorry, I don’t remember her.”

He held his hand out, so she took it and allowed him to help her to her feet.

“Do they come out?” he asked, looking down.

She felt the panic rise again.

“Do what come out?”

“The fangs; only, I rather fancy kissing you.”

“Maybe later,” she muttered and led the way back inside.

Once through the dancers, she noticed that there was no sign of Sally. She looked around the pub, but in vain. Melissa was sitting at the table.

“Hi Andrea, what’s up?”

“Where’s Sally?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Sally; your friend from the shop.”

Melissa shook her head.

“Nope, sorry, I’m not sure who you mean.”

“She was dressed as a witch. She was sitting there!” she said, pointing at a chair that held a rather inebriated troll.

The band stopped playing to a smattering of drunken applause.

Andrea looked at the watch on her left wrist. Gone was the rather cheap Casio mock divers watch. Instead, a neat and delicate ladies watch told her it was eleven thirty.

“LAST ORDERS PLEASE!” shouted the landlord.

Andrea sat down, feeling confused and very odd.

“Drink?” asked Bruce.

“No, but thanks. I think I ought to go home,” she said.

Home?

Shit, what would mother say?

“Are you okay, Andrea?” Melissa asked.

“I need to speak to you!” she said, and stood up and took her friend bodily to the ladies. She hesitated only slightly before entering.

The smell wasn’t nice, and there was a queue, so they left and went to the garden where Bruce had taken her earlier.

“What the fuck has she done to me?” Andrea asked Melissa as soon as they were alone.

“What?”

“Don’t give me that shit. I haven’t had a sip of alcohol all night, so I know that you’ve done something. Just what the hell happened?”

Melissa shrugged, shaking her head.

“Nothing.”

Andrea stared at Melissa for a long time, but the other girl was either not saying or genuinely nothing had happened.
Bruce came out to find them standing staring at each other.

“Hey girls, your taxi’s here,” he said.

That evoked no response.

“Come on, Melissa, what did she do?”

“I told you, nothing!”

Bruce looked baffled, so shrugged and walked off, muttering about seeing everyone on Monday at work. He didn’t understand girls.

“Come on, Andrea, the taxi’s here, “Melissa said, on seeing the driver peering round the door.

“My jacket!” Andrea said.

Melissa held up a chic short ladies leather jacket.

“Here you go.”

Andrea held it, looking at it.

“This isn’t mine,” she said, admiring it but not recognising it.

Melissa reached out and took a purse from the pocket. She opened the purse and showed the confused girl the drivers licence.

ANDREA LOUISE WILSON.

“Doh!”

Andrea stared at the name and the photograph for several seconds. Melissa walked to the door.

“Come on, he won’t wait all night,” she shouted over her shoulder.

Andrea sat in silence in the back of the cab all the way, staring at the photograph of a pretty girl that was supposed to be her. She had never seen this document, the purse or the jacket before in her life. The cab pulled up in front of her mother’s house.

“See you on Monday,” said Melissa.

Andrea stared at her blankly.

“I thought I was coming to your place first. I have to collect my stuff.”

“What stuff?” Melissa asked.

“Duh, my clothes.”

Melissa looked at Andrea’s dress.

“You’re wearing your clothes. That’s what you were wearing when I picked you up.”

“But I dressed at your place, when….” She stopped, as clearly Melissa recalled a different series of events. Andrea felt the panic rising again as she felt that reality was being warped and she didn’t know how or why.

“Look, it’s late, your mother will be asleep, best you sleep it off and things will look better in the morning,” said Melissa.

Meekly, Andrea nodded and clambered out of the taxi. She watched as it drove away and saw Melissa waving and smiling as it disappeared up the street.

Then, turning and facing the house, she paused a moment, trying in vain to grasp reality. Automatically she walked up the front path and opened the door with a key that was in her jacket pocket. It was on a small woolly sheep fob, so at least that was familiar.

The hall light was on, but her mother’s light was out, so she went upstairs and into her room.

The room wasn’t the same.

Oh, the furniture and fittings were, but the wallpaper, posters and bed covers were all different.

It was the room she would have always wanted, had she been a girl; that is.

She sat on the pink bedspread, looking around her in complete bafflement.

She undressed, waiting to rediscover the true awful reality that somehow she’d been duped into believing was a dream.

Naked she stood in the middle of her room, staring in complete unbelief at the female body she now inhabited.

Not just any female body, but as near perfect a specimen as she could wish for.

For many minutes she examined it; touching, exploring, feeling, caressing and marvelling at what she now was.

The dress and underwear she folded and neatly placed on the chair. Still naked she crossed the landing to the bathroom and entered. Not having what she felt was familiar, she was forced to sit to undertake something for which she had always stood.

She saw her reflection in the mirror.

The naked girl stared back at her, with her breasts jiggling slightly as she wiped.

“This is unreal!” she said aloud.

Away from the clamour of the pub, her voice sounded different too; much more in keeping with her appearance.

“This can’t be happening!” she said.

More than anything else, she wished it was true. However, she knew that things like this just don’t happen.

“They put a pill in my Coke!” she said, finally grasping what had happened. “I’m hallucinating; that’s it, I’m having a trip!”

“I hate Halloween!” she said, but remembered to brush her teeth.

Instead of her tee shirt and shorts that she remembered taking off when she last arose from bed, there was a slinky nightdress on her pink pillow.

Shaking her head, she put it on and slipped under the duvet. She turned the light off, and lay staring at the ceiling in the darkness.

“Oh God, I hope….”

Andrea drifted off to sleep, not really knowing what was real and what wasn’t.

5.

The smell of coffee was the first thing she became aware of when she woke. She glanced at her clock.

9:15

She frowned, for it was her job to make the coffee and take it in to her mother.

She sat up, and noted that she still wore the night dress and still possessed the very female body beneath it.

Without dressing, she simply got up and went downstairs.

Her mother’s empty wheelchair was by the kitchen door, so she had another panic attack. On entering the kitchen, she saw her mother sitting at the kitchen table munching a piece of toast and reading the Sunday paper. The coffee smell was far more apparent.

“Good morning, my love, did you have a good party?” her mother asked, not seeming to be surprised at seeing a girl and wearing a sexy night dress.

“Um, it was okay, I suppose. Mum….”

“What time did you get in; I never heard you?”

“The taxi dropped me off just after midnight, but, Mum…”

“Did you meet anyone nice?”

“Er, I suppose, maybe,” she muttered vaguely, feeling the reality was even further way.

“What’s his name?”

“Um, Bruce,” she said, not knowing why.

“Good. What does he do?”

“Um, I don’t know,” she said. “Oh, I think he might be one of the new sales team from work.”

“That’s nice, so you might see a lot of him. What does his father do?”

“I really don’t know. We had one dance and the noise was too bad to have a conversation, besides, Mum, I…”

“Get yourself some breakfast, dear. Oh, your Auntie Erica called when you were out, she and Uncle Keith asked us over for lunch today. You don’t mind, do you?”

Erica was her mother’s sister and they lived just outside town on a farm. Keith was a farmer.

“I can’t, Mum, I’m ….”

“You’re what, dear?” her mother asked. “It’s not that time again is it? I thought you had that only a couple of weeks ago?”

Andrea stared at her mother. Was she talking about what she thought she was talking about?

“Are you all right?”

Without saying anything, Andrea poured herself a mug of coffee and placed two slices of bread in the toaster. She sat next to her mother.

“Mum, can you see anything different about me?” she asked.

Her mother looked over the top of her spectacles for a moment and then shook her head.

“No, why?”

“Nothing?”

“Like?”

“Anything. I mean, is anything different to yesterday?”

“No, dear, why should it be?”

Andrea cupped her breasts.

“Are my breast bigger?” she asked in desperation.

Again her mother glanced at her breasts, smiled and shook her head.

“No dear, they look the same as they have been since you were sixteen.”

Andrea sat back on her chair.

“Pah! I give up. Fine, let’s go to lunch with Keith and Erica, whatever!”

“You’re behaving very oddly, dear. Are you sure there’s nothing the matter?”

“If you can’t see anything, then I must be fine. I just thought you might have noticed, that’s all.”

“Noticed what?”

“Anything!” she said in frustration.

The toast popped; so she got up, buttered them and looked in the cupboard for marmalade.

The jar was almost empty.

“I want one or two things, dear. Could you pop down to Tescos once you’re dressed?”

“If you want,” she said, munching her toast. It was amazingly refreshing to do something familiar.

“So, tell me more about the party. Who else was there?” her mother asked.

“Just a few people from work and loads of people I don’t know. Oh, a woman called Sally was there. She runs a health food shop in the middle of town, apparently.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was one. Is it new?”

“I have no idea; Melissa told me. She wasn’t there long.”

“How is Melissa?”

“Fine.”

“Has she got over that dreadful boyfriend you never liked?”

“Who, Simon?”

“That’s the one. I remember you telling her he was shifty and you didn’t trust him. Are they still going out?”

“No, Simon had a fling with Heather, so Melissa kicked him into touch.”

“Good thing too, by all accounts. So, this Bruce, is he nice?”

“Mum! We just met. I suppose he’s okay, but we never really got a chance to find out much.”

“If he likes you, he’ll ask you out again,” her mother said.

Andrea rolled her eyes. This was becoming more surreal by the second. She finished her toast and drained her coffee.

“Go and have a shower, dear, and I’ll make a shopping list for you,” her mother said, getting shakily to her feet and holding onto the table.

“Are you okay?” Andrea asked, standing up and moving to her mother’s side.

“Just taking it slow. Help me to my chair, will you, dear?”

Andrea took her mother’s arm and assisted her to her wheelchair.

“I’m sorry, my love, your life shouldn’t be like this,” her mother said.

“It’s okay, mum, really it is.”

“No, it shouldn’t.”

Andrea was surprised to see her mother crying.

“Mum, it’s okay.”

“I’m so blessed to have a daughter like you.”

They hugged for a while.

“You’re getting cold, dear. Why you insist on wearing so little in bed beats me. Go have your shower.”

Andrea had her shower, and was still amazed at her new body. In her wardrobe and chest of drawers were a lot of clothes, all unfamiliar and all girls’ clothes.

It was a drizzly day, so she dressed for warmth in a thick sweater and a pair of jeans. As she pulled on a pair of boots, she marvelled at the amount of shoes and boots she seemed to possess. As Andrew he had only kept four pairs of shoes.

Before she was aware of doing it, she found herself sitting on the stool in front of the dressing table and mirror.

Like an automaton she applied mascara and eye shadow and then lipstick with a hint of blusher.

“Shit, how come this is so natural?” she asked aloud.

Andrew had been an occasional cross-dresser, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

Downstairs, her mother handed her the list, some cash and the car keys.

“I said we’d be at Erica’s by twelve, okay?”

Andrea nodded, slipped on her leather jacket, grabbed her shoulder-bag and walked out of the house. Then she stopped dead, looking at the bag that now hung over her shoulder.

“How did I know to do that?” she asked.

It was a dazed and still confused young woman who wheeled the small trolley around the local Tesco’s supermarket a few minutes later.

Being Sunday morning, and still early, the store was relatively empty. She met no one she knew and was soon returning having completed her task. She kept seeing her eyes in the mirror and then catching glimpses of her breasts as she drove. The nail varnish on her hands sapped her concentration so she almost drove up the back of a bus at a junction.

Instead of screaming that she was an imposter, her uncle and aunt treated her as if everything was absolutely normal. They had a very nice lunch of roast lamb and all the trimmings, followed by home-made apple pie.

After lunch they sat in the sitting room feeling sated.

“Andrea, my love, we’ve something to tell you,” her mother said.

Andrea looked blankly at her mother and aunt.

“The house is too big for us, and, well, I’ve been talking it over with Erica. They’re willing to convert the small cottage here on the farm for me. I’m not getting any better, so I’ll need a purpose built place with lifts and stuff soon. It’s too much to expect you to waste your life looking after me, as I know you sacrificed a university place to stay with me, doing that night school course instead.”

“What are you trying to say, Mum, are you selling the house?”

“The house is in joint names in any case. So, the answer is yes, and you’ll get half now and the rest I’ll put away in an investment account to deal with what happens to me. Hopefully, you’ll get most of it when I’m gone, but we just don’t know how much I’ll need.”

Erica came in at that point.

“We’ll do up the cottage so it’s got everything she needs. There’s room for you as well, but if you felt you wanted to get your own flat or something, you’ll be able to with the sale of the house. You’ve got your life ahead of you, Andrea, and, well, you’ve been so wonderful up to now, we felt it was only fair to give you what we could to get out and enjoy life a bit.”

Andrea had been through so much in the last day or so that this almost pushed her over the top. She sat there not knowing what to think or feel.

“I knew you’d be pleased, dear,” said her mother, smiling. “This is for the best. We could even afford to get a full-time carer and companion in if needs be when I get really bad.”

“But that’s my job,” she protested.

“No dear, your job is to live life to the full. It’s what I want for you.”

It seemed pointless to say anything more, as they seemed to have made up their minds. Andrea felt it was all so unreal, she expected to wake up as Andrew any moment. At around three-thirty she drove her mother home.

That evening, they had a light supper and watched some TV together. Little was said, and nothing about the proposed house sale.

“You’re not angry, are you Andrea?” her mother asked as she helped her get ready for bed.

“Mum, I’m confused and, well, I’m not sure what I am.”

“I want only what’s best for you; you do believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, but I just don’t know what’s best for me at the moment.”

“I certainly never want to force you away from me, but I’d like you to experience more of life than this,” her mother said, indicating the house.

As she brushed her mother’s hair, she smiled slightly.

“Let’s just see what tomorrow brings, eh?”

6.

Andrea parked her car in the usual space in the underground car park beneath the office building. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, still hardly daring to believe that the girl who looked back was indeed her.

Dressed smartly in a two piece skirt and jacket with a cream blouse and court shoes, she walked to the lift with her briefcase in one hand and her shoulder bag over the other shoulder.

As she waited for the lift she heard running steps approaching.

“I thought it was you,” said Bruce as he stopped next to her. “Wow, you look better in ordinary clothes.”

She smiled.

“So do you, but I miss the mask,” she replied.

“No fangs?” he asked, peering at her mouth.

“Not today.”

“You look more kissable without the fangs.”

She looked at him to see if he was teasing her. He wasn't, so she smiled and said nothing.

“Look, is there any chance we could get together for a drink or a meal, or something?” he asked.

“Something?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

“I just felt we never got a chance to get to know each other at the pub. How do you fancy a quiet meal at the new Thai restaurant in Canal Street?”

“Is it any good?”

“I went there with a friend a couple of weeks ago; yes, it was pretty good. Do you like Thai?”

“I like most food,” she said, as the lift doors opened.

They got in.

“So, is that a yes?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, that’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Great, when?”

“I don’t know, anytime, I guess. I just have to make sure my mum is okay.”

He frowned.

“She has MS. She wants to go to a new specially adapted apartment on her sister’s farm. There’s talk of a full time carer. At the moment she’s okay, and I can cope, but if I’m at work all day, it might prove problematic if she deteriorates.”

“Bummer. Are you an only child?”

The door opened at her floor as she nodded.

“My floor, pick a day and let me know, okay?” she said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

Her desk was the same as it had been when Andrew had left it on Friday night. The same files and papers were in the in and out boxes, and the same screen saver floated on the monitor screen.

She took off her jacket and put it on a hanger on the hook on the partition. Then she sat down and picked up the last file that Andrew had been working on. The morning passed quickly. People came, people went. Most nodded or greeted her, while a few of the girls stopped and chatted with her. No one remarked on the profound change that had taken place.

By lunch time, she had almost forgotten that she had been someone else. But then Melissa appeared.

The memories came back immediately.

“Hi Drea!” she said.

Andrea regarded her for a moment.

“I don’t know how you did it, but please tell me why?”

“Did what?”

“Don’t give me that shit. I’m not stupid and I am not brain dead. I just need to know why.”

Melissa suddenly no longer looked like the dippy blonde that everyone took her for.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Don’t you want to know how?”

Andrea shrugged.

“Look, I’m a big b… girl, it seems, so there’s two answers to that. One is scientific and medical and as far as I can understand, impossible, so that leaves the other answer.”

“Which is?”

“Improbable. Would I believe it even if you told me?”

“Probably not.”

“But I still want to know why.”

Melissa sat in the only other chair in the cubicle.

“You needed it.”

“I needed it? Who the fuck are you to decide what I need or don’t need?”

Melissa smiled.

“I’m a friend who cares.”

Andrea’s sceptical expression made her laugh.

“Okay, tell me this. Have you been, just for a second since it happened, the slightest bit unhappy? I’m not talking about confused, baffled, frightened or anything else, I mean unhappy, just like all the time before it happened?”

Andrea opened her mouth, but closed it again.

“Well?” Melissa asked.

“No.”

“That’s why we did it.”

“We?”

Melissa sighed.

“This goes no further, right?”

Andrea nodded.

“Once a year power is granted to a lady, let’s just say of a certain unorthodox belief structure. Every year she looks to put that power to use to correct some injustice or to make right something that was wrong. I thought that this year that wrong could have been you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your friend and it cracked me up to see you so unhappy.”

“How did you know?”

“Everyone has powers, and they’re all different. I’m an Empath; so I feel others’ pain as if it was my own. Every time I saw you I felt your pain and it drove me nuts. I just had to get something done.”

“So, you’re a witch?” Andrea asked.

“Nah, not really, more like a girl with a greater awareness of stuff. Sally is, though.”

“Ah, the Sally you denied existed?”

Melissa grinned; unrepentant.

“So, what happens now?” Andrea asked.

“Now?”

“Yeah, what happens now?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, my life has been turned upside down, what the hell do I do?”

“Has anyone noticed; your mum, anyone?”

“No, so?”

“Then, girl, just live your damn life and forget Andrew ever existed. Everyone else has.”

“How can they forget?”

“That’s Sally’s thing. When she works a change, she manages to change your past and everything about you. As far as your mum is concerned, she gave birth to a daughter. Even your school photos will be of a little girl.”

“Why don’t I remember them?”

“Once you accept the change, you will.”

“Accept it?”

“Yes, Drea, accept it. Stop fighting it and looking for answers that you’ll never get. Go with the flow, girl.”

They were interrupted by the department manager. He was a wiry little man called Albert Hodges, and he walked around with a permanent scowl on his weaselly face.

“Miss Wilson, have you completed the return on that account I asked you for last week?” he asked. His voice was reedy and unpleasant,

Without a word, Andrea took a file from her out box and handed it to him.

“I took it to your office on Friday afternoon and you’d left early,” she said.

Mr Hodges reddened slightly, but took it without a word.

“What a git. Does he ever say thanks?” Melissa asked.

“Rarely.”

“Where were we? Oh yes, it’s all up to you now. What are you going to do?” Melissa asked.

Andrea thought for a moment, but then smiled.

“I guess I’ll just get on with my life. How can I thank you and Sally?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just know that if someone else needs something, you might be the person to give it. Besides, you haven’t got your power yet. See ya!”

With that she was gone and Andrea was alone again.

She sat down at her desk and looked at her hands with their lovely nails. She smiled and picked up her telephone and punched in a couple of digits.

“Hi, Bruce? It’s Andrea. How about tonight?”