Part 2 - Saturday

It was already broad daylight by the time I woke up. I wondered where I was for a few seconds before the sound of someone else in the room with me made me remember.

“You’re awake then?” asked Ingrid.

“I think so. What time is it?”

“Just before ten.”

I sat up with a start.

“I have to go to the Police Station to make my statement.”

I got up from the couch.

“Relax. You have plenty of time. Besides, the Police Station isn’t going to disappear now is it?”

I sat down again.

“You’ve had a rough last 12 hours. Before we head to the Police Station, you should take a shower and get dressed while I prepare us something to eat. Then you will need to use some of my makeup to make yourself presentable before you talk to them.”

“Makeup? We?”

“Yes Makeup. In case your sleepy brain is still half asleep, the only clothes you have are the ones you arrived in last night. If I recall correctly, there was a skirt and heels involved.”

I felt my face go distinctly red.

“Ok. I get that part, but ‘We’?”

Ingrid smiled.

“I think you are going to need all the support you can get in the next few weeks. At the moment, you are homeless and well.... everything else. You are my guest so it is the least I can do to help you out in your time of need. So yes, ‘We’ is right.”

“But... I said that I would look for somewhere else to live today. I can’t impose on you any longer.”

Ingrid muttered some words in that were obviously not altogether kind to me as I recognised the word ‘Dummkof’ in the otherwise unintelligible stream of German that came from her lips.

Then she switched to English.

“At least let me help you get to the Police Station and I’d expect that you want to see what’s left of your home in the daylight then, there is the little matter of clothes. You are going to need something more than what you were wearing last night.”

I knew when I was beaten.

“Ok. Ok. I give in.”

“Good. Now go and have a shower while I get things ready here. There is some deodorant on the shelf above the sink that you can use.”

Twenty minutes later I appeared in her living room feeling a lot better but distinctly smellier but in a nice way. I was surprised to see Ingrid waiting for me holding my wig.

“This is a lovely wig. I’ve combed it out for you.”

“Thanks. But what is all this?” I asked looking at the wealth of makeup that was almost covering the table.

“Sit down and relax.”

I saw that Ingrid had done her makeup. As the Office, she seemed to wear far less ‘slap’ than most of the other women. Today she was looking really stunning.

I guessed that she wanted me to let her do my makeup.

I sat down and she wrapped a sheet over my body.

Then so my surprise, she straddled me and sat on my legs facing me.

“Good, now let Aunty Ingrid transform Sarah into a pretty woman.”

I relaxed and let her do her thing. I did baulk at her attempts to thin my eyebrows with the tweezers.

“I’m going to need to go to work as Peter next week you know,” I mumbled.

She just smiled at me. Her smile was one that said, ‘who are you kidding’.

“I have to go to work you know. I have the Warner claim to complete.”

She sighed.

“Vince can handle it just as well as you. Mr Brooks will give you as much time as you need to get you self sorted. Look what he did when Steve broke his legs skiing.”

“There is a world of difference between a medical problem and mine.”

“Keep still while I do your eye-liner.”

I knew that I was beaten so I submitted to her demands.

In the end, I had to say that I was pleased with the look that she’d given me. There was no doubt that Ingrid was a very skilled makeup artist.

“Stop preening yourself in the mirror. We have things to do, people to see.”

“I was just admiring your handy-work. Is there anything wrong with that?”

Ingrid glared at me.

“Don’t you know a compliment when you see it?”

She just picked up her handbag and grabbed some keys from a dish on the kitchen worktop and headed for the front door. I sighed to myself and after putting on my coat and picking up my handbag I followed her out of the front door.

Ingrid drove us in her little Yellow Fiat ‘Cinquecento’ to the Police Station in Hammersmith. I marvelled at how she fitted herself into the small car and drove it especially wearing heels like she was today. That was something I could never manage but I never had to face that problem very much as I didn’t own a car.

“There’s nowhere to park around here on a Saturday morning. Let me drop you off and go and do some shopping. Give me a call when you are done.”

“I’ve no idea how long I’ll be.”

“Just let me know ok.”

“Thanks.”

I got out of the car and watched as she took off towards Shepherds Bush.

I crossed the road and went into the Police Station.

“Can I help you Ms?” asked a PC at the reception.

“Yes. I’ve come to make a statement about the fire last night in Pumping Station Road. I spoke with Inspector Bryant last night. He asked me to come in today and make a statement.”

“Very well Miss. You name is?” asked the PC as he picked up the phone.

“Peter Robinson.”

The PC looked at me strangely.

I smiled through gritted teeth and said,

“Look Constable, I was out when my home burnt down. These are the only clothes I have left ok?”

He spoke to someone on the phone saying that the homeowner was here to make a statement.

“Please take a seat. Someone will be down to see you soon.”

I sat and waited for nearly fifteen minutes. Then a door from inside the station opened and a plain clothes officer stepped out.

“Peter Robinson?”

“That’s me,” I replied standing up.

He didn’t bat an eyelid at my appearance.

“I’m Detective Sergeant Parks. Would you please follow me? I’ve been reading the report on the incident left for my by Uniform.”

He let me through the door into the station proper.

“Inspector Bryant mentioned that how you were dressed last night, so don’t worry about my idiot colleague on the front desk,” he said as we walked along a corridor, my heels echoing on the wooden floor.

“Thanks.”

We went into an interview room where we sat down on the same side of a table.

“I’d like you to go through the events last night in your own words. I’ll take some notes and then we will put it all together into a statement. How does that sound?”

“Fair enough,” I replied.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Why not start with when you left home. I’ll ask questions as we go.”

Nearly ninety minutes later I left the station feeling like I’d been through it all again. Part of me felt abused and part felt relieved that it was done and dusted.

I’d hardly set foot on the pavement when my phone bleeped. Someone had texted me.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I read the message.

“Did you enjoy telling tales to the Police? You know what happens to snitches!”

I recognised the phone number. It belonged to Lindy.

I thought to myself, ‘hadn’t she done enough damage already?’ Then I thought, ‘so much for changing her phone number’.

Finally, I realised that she must have followed me last night and even worse she must be somewhere close.
I almost turned round and went back into the police station to let DS Park know this latest turn when Ingrid’s Fiat came into view.

I pushed the text to the back of my mind and climbed in.

“How did it go?” she asked as I buckled up my seatbelt.

“As well as can be expected. I feel like I’ve been through it all again.”

Ingrid took off at a rapid pace towards Hammersmith Broadway and instead of turning east or north to the shops, she kept going around the one-way system.

“Where are we going?”

“I thought you should see the damage in the daylight.”

I was dreading this but I couldn’t put it off forever as the little Fiat turned off onto the A4 westwards.

“Very well,” I replied somewhat wearily.

The scene where my former home had stood was one of near total destruction. A Fire Service Officer was carefully picking his way through the rubble.

As I stood there looking at remains, I felt a tear start to well up. Before it could turn into a real sob, a voice shouted,

“Peter. I am so glad you are safe.”

I knew the voice.

I tried to put a smile on my face but was not entirely successful as I turned to see my former next door neighbour, Mrs Patel wearing her usual flowing sari come running up the path from her home and gave me a big hug.

Mrs Patel had known about my ‘cross-dressing’ for a long time. She’d been a close friend of my Aunt Rose. It was her who’d discovered my Aunt’s dead body at the bottom of the stairs when she’d called round for her usual afternoon cup of tea.

‘Yes I’m fine. I can see that you are as well,” I said when she let me go.

“How much damage was there to your place?”

“Sadik is going round with the Insurance Man right now. It looks like there is just some smoke damage.”

Then she grinned.

“I’ve been on at him to decorate the place for years. This will remove any more excuses he might dream up,” she said trying to put some gloss on the matter.

The Patel’s had been in the UK since the early 1970’s when their families had been expelled from Uganda.

They were really nice people. My Aunt had been very lucky to have them as neighbours.

“We spent last night at Sadik’s brothers house in Hounslow. We will be back here in a day or two. That is about as long as I can stand his family. They are always telling us that we are not a complete family because we only had two children compared to their eight.”

Then she looked at Ingrid.

“Who is your friend?”

“Sorry. Mrs Patel, this is Ingrid. I work at the same place her. She let me stay at her place last night.”
Mrs Patel stuck out her hand and they shook hands.

“My, you are a tall woman,” she said smiling broadly.

Mrs Patel was just about 5ft on a good day.

Just then the Fire Officer approached.

“Are either of you the owner?” he asked looking at Ingrid and myself.

“That’s me I’m afraid.”

“I’ve done my initial report and I can send it straight to the insurance company. Do you know who they are?”

I’d completely forgotten about the insurance on the building and contents. I’d had it valued less than 6 months earlier.

“All the documents were in the house. I think it was the Co-op.”

He smiled back at me.

“They are one of the better ones. If you’d come with me, I can give you all the contact numbers. In cases like this, they will normally get an assessor out next day. As tomorrow is Sunday, it will probably be Tuesday before they can get here.”

I followed him to his vehicle. He lifted up the tailgate and heaved a box of papers out.

He quickly found what he was looking for and handed me a flyer from the CIS. As he’d promised there were all the contact numbers and other useful information that I’d need to make the claim.

“Thank you,” I said as I took the document.

“Will...Will it need to be knocked down?”

He smiled.

“That is for their surveyor to decide but in my opinion, the answer is yes. The fire has damaged the core brickwork quite badly. I can confirm that the fire was started deliberately. Someone poured a good deal of petrol through the letterbox before setting it alight. It is a good job you weren’t inside at the time.”

That was mixed news. I was convinced that I knew who’d set the fire. For the life of me, I could not understand why.

“Is there anything salvageable?”

“Not really. What there anything in particular you would want?”

I thought for a few seconds.

“Yes, yes there is. It is a tin box of photographs. They belonged to my aunt.”

“Where were they?”

“In the cupboard under the stairs,” I replied suddenly realising that was very close to where the fire had started.

“Let me go and look for you.”

Five minutes later, he emerged holding a charred tin.

“Is this what you were after?”

“I think so.”

Ingrid and Mrs Patel gathered round as he opened the box.

To everyone’s surprise, the contents were mostly unscathed. A few of the pictures were charred around the edges but otherwise there was no major damage.

“The tin lid must have been a really good seal. You don’t often find ones like that these days remarked the officer.”

“It was an old Huntley and Palmers Biscuit Tin that commemorated the 1912 Olympics. It had belonged to my Aunt’s grandmother.”

I picked up one picture.

“That is Rose. With her sister Iris and their mother. It was taken in 1948 at White City. Rose competed for Great Britain at those games. It was a shame that she didn’t live to see them come back to London again.”

I think the Fire Office could sense my awkwardness.

“I’m just about done here. If you need any more help or information please don’t hesitate to get in touch with me at Hammersmith Station.”

He handed me his card.

“Thank you. And please thank the crews who came last night.”

He smiled back at me.

“I will.”

I returned to Ingrid and Mrs Patel who were in deep conversation. As I approached, it stopped although I didn’t think anything of it at the time.

I turned to Mrs Patel,

“Can you take any post in for me until I can get the post office to redirect it? It is going to take a few days to find somewhere else to live while I get this mess sorted out.”

“Oh, I understood that you were staying with Ingrid,” remarked my neighbour.

“Ingrid has been so kind as to offer me a bed until I find somewhere else to live.”

Ingrid butted in at this point.

“Come on Sarah, we have some shopping to do even if it is just some food for us to eat tonight.”

“Yes. We must go. Mrs Patel, I’ll be back in a few days to sort things out with the insurance company. I’d expect that they will want to work with yours to get your damage covered by my policy.”

We said our goodbyes as we started to walk to Ingrid’s car when Mrs Patel called back,

“Keep her Peter. She’s much nicer than the other one.”

I couldn’t get into the car fast enough.

“I’m sorry for my neighbour. She has a tendency to speak her mind at times.”

Ingrid laughed as she turned the car round.

“I like her. She is a wise person.”

I felt trapped.

We’d only gone a few hundred yards when I said,

“Ingrid, please stop the car.”

“Eh?”

She saw the look on my face and did as I’d asked.

“Ingrid, after the past 24 hours, the last thing I want is to get into another relationship this quickly.

It’s not right and we have to work together after all.”

Ingrid smiled back at me.

“It’s all right Peter I’m not trying to replace her. I think the word that describes it is ‘rebound’. You need to take your time but now that I know you, any woman who accepts that you might want to become Sarah either once in a while or all the time would be mad to say no to you.”

I was stunned. I couldn’t decide if this was a rejection or a come on. In the end, I came to the conclusion that Ingrid was trying to be diplomatic. Little did I know then what was to happen a little later that day.

There was a stony silence between us that was only broken by the sound of Ingrid crashing the gears as she took off down the road. I could tell that she was angry and it was probably me that she was angry with. I thought it better to say nothing for the time being.

She drove us to Shepherds Bush and the Westfield Shopping Centre where she parked the car in the underground garage. The place was packed with hundreds if not thousands of shoppers because, after all tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. Many of them were buying silly presents for their loved ones.

We walked along the concourse for a bit then Ingrid said with half a smile on her face,

“It is decision time Peter. Left for Sarah and Right for Peter, “ asked Ingrid as we stood outside the entrance to one of the many clothing stores on the main level of the centre.

I dithered quite a bit. My mind was blank. I’d never imagined having to make a decision like this. I’d thought that I might slowly transition into Sarah as some point but recent events were going to force my hand.

“You’ve been planning this all the time?”

She smiled back.

“Not really. When I saw you run into the Police station, I knew that you should at least be given the chance to live your destiny.”

“As this is your grand idea, what do you think I should do?” I asked.

“It is your decision to make. Only you know what you feel in your heart.”

She paused before adding.

“For what it is worth, you are a much nicer person as Sarah then Peter. This is not to say that Peter is horrible but now that I’ve seen both sides of you, I know which one I prefer.”

I didn’t answer her directly but walked into the store and turned left. I stopped and looked back.
Ingrid was standing there with a big smile on her face. She walked towards me and the smile turned into a grin. As we met, she took my arm in hers and we hit the stores.

In the next three hours my credit cards took to use the words of a famous Norwegian Football commentator, ‘took a hell of a beating’. All thoughts of Lindy and the fire were well and truly pushed to the bottom of the pile as we bought lots of clothes and ‘stuff’ for my new life.

In the end, neither of us could carry any more bags so we headed back to the car full of high spirits.

Our happiness was only short lived as we found the car with four flat tyres. We soon realised that nails had been driven into all of the tyres. Someone was intent on causing us a whole lot of inconvenience.
We called security who like any other lot of ‘jobs-worth’s’, said that it was more than their ‘jobs were worth’ to show us the CCTV footage of the parking close to where we were parked.

“No matter, I’m calling the Police right now. This is a clear case of criminal damage and they should be involved.”

I called the Officer who’d taken my statement earlier in the day.

“Do you have new information about the case?” he asked.

“No... Well sort of. I am at Westfield with my friend. She’s had all four tyres on her car slashed. The

Jobs-worth’s in security won’t let us see the security tapes.”

“Do you think it is the same person?”

“Yes.”

Just then my phone bleeped. Someone had sent me a text.

“Hold on a moment.”

I looked at the text.

“Naughty Tranny’s telling tales to teacher. Remember what I said about snitches?”

I returned to the call.

“I have some evidence you should see.”

“Ok. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Please tell the security people not to erase any footage.”

I hung up.

The supervisor had heard most of the call himself.

“You heard what the Police Officer said.”

“Yes,” he replied grumpily.

The DS arrived less than 15 minutes later.

We eventually arrived back at Ingrid’s place a little before 8pm. I was exhausted and starving. I retreated to my bedroom to think while Ingrid tried to rustle up something to eat. The enjoyment of the day and shopping for a whole new wardrobe was long gone.

The CCTV evidence was inconclusive. It showed someone clearly vandalising the car but the identity of that person was unclear. They did everything possible to hide their face with a hooded top. All we could state for certain that it was a woman. We all had our suspicions though.

Luckily, one of the security guys knew of a tyre company who would come out and replace the tyres on the Fiat there and then. My credit card took another hammering because I couldn’t land Ingrid with the bill for something that was clearly aimed at me. I could not put Ingrid at risk because of that crazy woman.

I had been sitting on the bed for quite some time gazing at my navel when, my thoughts were interrupted by a light knocking on the bedroom door.

Ingrid stuck her head round the door and announced,

“Dinner such as it is, is served.”

Ingrid had worked wonders and produced something that tasted wonderful.

When we’d finished, I stood up and started to clear the dishes.

“Sit down,” said Ingrid in a voice that said in no uncertain terms that I should do just that.

I sat.

“I’m so sorry for the tyres and al that. I’ll move out tomorrow.”

She ignored my protestations and reached under the table and bought out a large bag.

“This is for you.”

“Wha...what is it?”

“Why don’t you look inside and see?”

I peered inside and gasped.

The bag contained all the makeup a girl could ever need.

“Whe... when did you buy this little lot?”

“I went shopping when you were making your statement to the Police. I couldn’t very well sit and twiddle my thumbs now could I?”

“What would you have done if I had turned right in the store?”

She grinned,

“I would have had more than a little egg on my face and enough makeup to last me six months if not 6 years.”

We both giggled.

“I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“All the thanks I’ll need is for you to stay here with me until you get a proper place to stay?”

I tried to stop myself from looking sad but I failed.

“Why the sad look?”

“I'n sorry Ingrid, I’ve brought nothing but trouble into your life this past 24 hours. I have to leave as soon as possible. As nice as your offer is, I can't really accept.”

“In fact, I’ll leave tomorrow and check into a hotel,” I added before she could interrupt.

I left the dishes on the table and headed for my room where I burst into tears thinking 'if only things were different'.

I was so engrossed in myself and my problems that I failed to hear my phone bleep with the arrival of yet another text message.

[To be continued]