Book 2, Chapter 3

Walking home from Dr Carter's surgery I felt I'd been a bit of a wimp running to the doctor; really for no better reason than because I was frightened. I had agreed to an appointment with Marjorie Stanhope though and now I would have to accept the embarrassment of asking for help from someone for whom I'd previously verbally 'ripped a new arsehole'.

Dr Carter had at least been pleased when I produced my notebook with my morning temperature records which I'd noticed did seem to be cycle over over about a month although it was difficult to tell when there had been moves from Wales to the tropics and lots of disrupted sleep for watches while sailing. I told her that in a strange way with so many changes in my life I'd come to almost enjoy the routine of taking my temperature every day.

Once back home I was surprised to find that the casserole had turned out to be one of my more successful efforts as the slow cooking made tender a tasty but tough piece of beef. That gave Mum and I a start to discussing what supplies recipes and equipment would work well on the boat. As we chatted I realised how well we got on when there were agreed practical things to discuss compared to how badly we got on when the discussion revolved around abstract ideas like 'should', 'sensible' and 'ought to.'

We all watched a little television together after dinner and I briefly chatted to Serena on the phone but I needed an early night being utterly exhausted and I didn't even start to feel human again until lunch time next day - this newly revamped body was taking its time to settle down and I wondered what would be found when I went up to London for a check up with Charles and 'Frank' in 12 days time . Thursday I was mostly recovered and by the time I got a phone call in the afternoon to ask if I could take up a cancelled appointment with Doctor Stanhope on Friday at 3 pm I was feeling ready to take on the world again so I called Serena and we made plans to meet in town next day after my hospital visit.

Back to normal on Friday I caught the bus into the city mid-morning to trawl the library, college and university for opportunities to take some useful classes even though it was the wrong time of year to be starting a course. The PADI scuba diving training was easy to find as they were still at the early stages of the courses in the local swimming pool which they agreed I could join. Dance opportunities were however full taken and all that I could get was the telephone number of a teacher called John Hart who didn't do a suitable course himself but knew 'everyone in the local dance world'. A phone call later I was on my way to the café on Churchill Way to meet John during his lunch break.

"Are you Venus?" The accent was broad Yorkshire and the man clearly a builder or road mender of some sort. I nodded and beckoned him to sit but he first went to the counter to get some cottage pie and a mug of tea. "You can salsa?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that but I've started to learn and it's made me want to learn more."

"I'm not a regular dance teacher as you can probably guess. In fact I'm after a teacher myself and you might be just the person I'm looking for."

What had I got myself into? This man was clearly 'on the pull' and he had my name and mobile number!

"The look on your face!" he burst out with the widest of grins. "Sorry to tease you but you looked so sweet and innocent sitting there that I couldn't resist. Look I can teach you any dance you want and I'll do it for free but I teach handicapped people to dance and I want a woman to help me do that. If I teach you, in return, I want you to help me teach them."

I explained I'd recently had an operation I was still recovering from but he shrugged that off. It was the unlikeliest of offers but free one-on-one lessons weren't to be discarded lightly so nervously I agreed to meet him for a trial tomorrow at 2:30 in a local community hall where he would give me a 30 minute lesson followed by my meeting the class he was teaching at 3 pm.

"OK then love. A deal's a deal" and he held out his huge calloused hand which I could only shake wondering what I'd let myself in for.

An hour later I was blushing in front of Dr Stanhope who was grinning as much as John Hart had been. What is there about me today that makes people grin?

"Welcome to the grown up world Venus… …whatever 'grown up' means that is. You say part of you simply wants the life of a ' normal woman' but from all my training I have learnt that I'm not 'normal' and in fact I'm not even 'a woman'. Words and images are treacherous and not to be confused with reality. 'Normal' could be a town in Illinois or a setting on the washing machine but it has only recently been used to describe people and what we do. We used to aspire to ideals and it was openly acknowledged that nobody reached them until some bright spark said 'We are normal and they are not normal so in the pursuit of progress we will kill them.'"

On the spur of the moment I'd decided to be utterly open with Dr Stanhope once we'd both accepted that her describing me by …'You don't really seem to be much of anything do you?' …and my calling her in return an 'arrogant bitch' was just our way of getting to know each other.

Everything had come out from my adoption by Bill as first an ersatz then a proper granddaughter with a billion pound legacy; through the television project requiring me to become a public figure whilst solo-circumnavigating the globe; and finally to my agreeing to undergo experimental surgery not to fit some self-image or for social acceptability but in the hope of having a baby.

What had finally broken the doctor's reserve was when I said "I would like to disappear and live a normal life like any other 18 year old girl."

"Considering the hand life has dealt you it's healthy that you have doubts, fears and at times a desire to hide from the world but the idea that there is such a thing as an 18 year old girl leading a normal life is a fantasy. Think among your friends if there is one whose life you would swap for your own."

At this time Dr Stanhope seemed to pull herself together and leant forward to speak earnestly. "It seems that being a billionaire, world-girdling television personality is just your day job and what you need is an outside interest."

I looked at her to see if she was serious and deciding she was offered "This morning I signed up for scuba diving lessons and this afternoon for dance lessons as long as I agree to help handicapped people learn to express themselves through dance?"

The last time I left Dr Stanhope's office it was with a strong desire to slam the door but this time I had to offer her a tissue to stem the flood of tears produced in her paroxysms of giggles and splutters…