"Tighter," I order, eliciting a cry of exasperation from the person behind me.

"It's already closed at the back, it won't go any tighter!" Charlotte sighs in desperation.

"Are you sure?" I ask, gripping my dresser for support as I gasp for air.

"Positive," Charlotte replies. "If it went any tighter you'd probably faint mid-meal! Of course, if that's what you're going for..."

"This is date number three," I explain as Charlotte ties off the laces on my tightest under bust corset. "You KNOW what that means..."

"That tomorrow you might stop being so hyper and on edge?" Charlotte asks sarcastically.

"EXACTLY," I say, slowly lowering myself into my chair in front of my dresser and adding additional polish to my make-up. My look tonight is 'high glamour'- extra-thick eye shadow and eye liner, my biggest fake eyelashes and the deepest crimson lipstick I own. When combined with my hair- tied into a professional updo- and my extra-long blood-red nails, I have a look any woman would die for, and any man would kill to spend the night with. But I'm not finished there.

In addition to my torturously tight satin corset- which is also holding up dark silk stockings with four garters to each leg- I have on my most frivolous lace g-string and a strapless lace bra that's underwired enough to almost push my usually 'perky' breasts up, together and out. With Charlotte looking on approvingly, I step into the expensive strapless red dress I've selected for my date, allowing Charlotte to fasten it shut at the back, ensuring none of my lingerie is visible above the top (but that most of my breasts are!) and my new corset-powered curves are on display for all to see. I finish off my look with 5" red stiletto pumps, an expensive red clutch and my most expensive jewellery and perfume.

"I'll not wait up," Charlotte teases, earning herself a stuck-out tongue from me.

"There's no guarantee the date will lead to sex," I say.

"Jamie," Charlotte sighs, "dressed like that, even I want to have sex with you. You'll be lucky if Jon doesn't just come right then and there in the restaurant."

"He'd better not, if the rumours are true," I giggle as I grab a stole and head downstairs to where my taxi awaits me. Even though it's late evening, it's also June, so it's plenty warm enough that I don't need a coat to cover up and therefore ruin my carefully-prepared look.

It's not long before I arrive at the restaurant where my date is waiting for me. After walking inside- past a couple of paparazzi, naturally- I quickly spy the handsome young gentleman waiting for me at a small, intimate table, and when he catches sight of me, his eyes go wide with (hopefully pleasant) surprise.

"You look STUNNING," Jonathan- my date- says as he holds out my chair for me to sit down- which takes longer than normal, thanks to my corset!

"I mean," Jonathan continues in his thick London accent, "you literally stunned me when I saw you. Me and probably every man in this restaurant!"

"Thanks," I say, examining the menu. "You're looking especially sexy yourself tonight!"

"If it wasn't Saturday, you'd never be able to tell I hadn't just come from work," Jonathan jokes. "One suit fits all occasions, heh."

"Doesn't mean you don't look DAMNED sexy in that suit," I say, smiling a wide, crimson smile. Jonathan grins bashfully and examines his own menu.

"I'm so glad my uncle set us up," Jonathan says, his shy demeanour contrasting sharply with the outward imagine of a tall, athletic and EXTREMELY sexy young man.

"I'm kinda surprised he did, in a way," I confess. "I mean, he's been my boss for over two years, he always struck me as the kinda guy who doesn't mix business with family."

"Uncle Joshua thinks of you as family," Jonathan says. "He thinks of all his favourite clients as part of an extended family, and you've brought him so much work I kinda think he wants you to legally be part of the family as fast as possible!"

"One step at a time," I tease, eliciting a knowing smile from my date.

Needless to say, we eat quickly- savouring our expensive meal, but skipping dessert to allow time for the 'real' part of the date. Almost as soon as we enter the front door of Jonathan's spacious city-centre apartment, our tongues are down each other's throats and we're quickly undressing each other. I brace myself as I reach for Jonathan's fly, unzipping it and allowing the entire length of his penis to enter my hand- and there is a LOT of it.

As you may have inferred from his being Joshua's nephew, Jonathan is of African heritage- born and raised in Britain, but of Nigerian descent- and like any woman, I'd heard the old adage 'once you go black, you don't go back', and assumed it was just an old wives' tale.

...That is, until I gave his crotch a playful squeeze on the conclusion of our second date and got probably the biggest shock of my life. After over a year of thinking Paul's 7 inches was more than adequate, feeling something over ten inches long and at least one and a half times as wide as Paul's penis spring into my hands made my eyes go wide with shock and lust. Lust that I intend to satisfy tonight. This is my first sexual encounter of any description since my break-up with Paul, and I intend to make the absolute most of it.

With Jonathan now completely naked and me naked save for my corset and stockings (and technically my vagina panty too, if you count that), I lead Jonathan into is bedroom and sink to my knees, suckling the glistening head of his fully-erect penis. Jonathan moans with desire as he begins to slowly pump his groin in and out of my mouth. I remember another old wives' tale and squeeze my left thumb into my left palm, suppressing the urge to gag as Jonathan quickly reaches the back of my mouth. It's a trick I've used before- one of Paul's favourite 'videos' of me (which had better no longer exist, or my ex is in big trouble) is of me all but swallowing a 12-inch long flexible dildo over and over again. Needless to say, that video was NOT one of my favourites.

Realising that I'm not going to be able to take all of Jonathan whilst knelt down, I release him from my mouth before laying down on his bed, on my back, with my head leaning over the edge. Catching on to what I have in mind, Jonathan kneels down, thrusting his penis back into my mouth, taking advantage of the perfectly straight channel that's been created. I wince a little as I feel my throat bulge from his entire length entering it, but that soon gives way to intensely erotic feelings as I tighten my lips around his shaft and slowly run my tongue along his penis. With Jonathan now almost ready, I feel him withdraw fully from my mouth and hear the familiar sound of latex covering skin. I roll over onto my stomach and slowly come up onto all fours as I feel Jonathan apply cold lubricant jelly to my anus. Seconds later, he enters me, and I see flashes of light before my eyes as I'm stretched to my absolute limit by his sheer size.

It doesn't take too long for us both to orgasm, but once we're both done and Jonathan's withdrawn from me, I find myself in actual pain from the love-making. It subsides quickly, but I feel almost disappointed by how much the 'encounter' took out of me. Before too long- and after Jonathan's thankfully loosened and removed my corset- we fall asleep in each other's arms in his bed.

We're both up early the next day- it's still a Sunday, so it's still my regular 'dinner with the parents' day, only today I have the added awkwardness of introducing them to my new boyfriend- a boyfriend I'm not 100% sure I'm going to keep. I pull my bra, dress and shoes back on (stuffing the rest of my clothing- including the corset- into a bag) and head down with Jonathan to his car, where he drives us back to my house- a car ride that's conducted in awkward silence.

After following my normal morning routine (including a much-needed shower), I fix my make-up, pull on a comfortable cotton bra & panty set (my backside is still a little too tender for a thong) followed by a clingy long-sleeved top and a loose, knee-length black skirt, followed by a pair of 4"-heeled cork wedges. Normally I wouldn't wear such high heels to see my parents, but Jonathan is 6' 3", and I don't want to look like a midget when I'm stood next to him!

The whole thing only takes about twenty minutes, but when I return downstairs to where Jonathan's waiting alone in the living room (it being a Sunday, Charlotte & Keith are both at church), he's clearly bored out of his head. Even before I became a celebrity, I was used to leaving boys restless with anticipation- but with Jonathan, sex has obviously extinguished the spark that had been there. Whilst it's something I've heard of- Krystie has said it's happened to her once- it's never something I envisaged happening to me.

"Hey," I say, approaching Jonathan with a smile on my face.

"Hey," he says, forcing an obviously-fake smile onto his bored face. "Are you ready?"

"Yep," I say, following Jonathan out into the hall before sighing and stopping. "Wait," I say with a heavy voice.

"What's up?" Jonathan asks.

"This- this, between us," I begin. "...It's not really working, is it?"

"Did I hurt you last night, is that it?" Jonathan asks, clearly concerned that he'd done something wrong.

"No, that's not it," I lie. "It's just... I don't know. Maybe it's too soon after Paul, but I just don't feel the connection with you that I did with him."

"...I kinda feel the same way," Jonathan confesses. "I mean, my uncle says 'go out with Jamie, she's this massive celebrity now', and I think 'yeah, sounds fun', but... I don't want to go out with you just because you're rich and famous, I'd want to go out with you because I really like you, and-" Jonathan winces as he realises what he said. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I just-"

"No, it's okay, I get it," I say with a smile, before extending my hand for a handshake. "Friends?" Jonathan smiles and softly grips my hand.

"Friends," he says, though I can tell he is slightly disappointed by the development.

"On the plus side, there's no obligation to come and meet my parents now!" Jonathan chuckles with relief as we both head out to our respective cars. "And just to set my mind at ease... Was that your first time trying anal last night?"

"A gentleman never kisses and tells," Jonathan says with a smirk, before getting into his car. "See you round, Jamie-Lee."

"See you round, Jonathan," I say with a sigh as I get into my car, newly single again for the second time in as many months.

...Not that I haven't had multiple offers. Ever since my multiple interviews in mid-April my nationwide fame hasn't stopped growing. I'm in demand for TV appearances- and have already recorded an appearance for an upcoming episode of Celebrity Juice, which was an AMAZING experience- and have been approached by at least two teen magazines to write columns, both on my experiences as a transsexual and my lifestyle in general- and I don't know the first thing about writing! My studies have suffered somewhat as a result of this, but fortunately it being an Open University course, I can afford to take extra time to finish it.

Joshua's also been supplying me with extra modelling work and has all but banned me from doing my usual part-time receptionist work. In fact he's joked that he's been going through work experience girls at a rate of knots just trying to keep up with the demand for me! In addition to modelling for big-name brands and high street labels, I've even been called in to do the odd endorsement here and there, including one for a big dancewear company who've supplied me with more leotards than I'm ever likely to wear!

A lot of the reason for this may be Charlotte's birthday party last month. Even though she was the undoubted star of the show and Krystie, Mary & I were mere backing dancers, the press made a lot of the sight of me- someone born male- dancing as elegantly as any classically-trained ballerina, even if it was just for a few minutes. When photos appeared on international dance websites of me en pointe in my full White Swan regalia, the endorsement offers began flooding in. When no photos of Charlotte appeared on those sites, though, life started getting a lot more awkward. Yes, photos appeared in the national press- but they were careful to capture both of us in the frame. The same applied whenever we were snapped on our usual girls’ nights out, or shopping- the national press seems to be treating us as equal partners in our 'womance', rather than me being Charlotte's sidekick. And Charlotte, ever the alpha-female, is not happy about this development, no matter how much I try to stroke her ego or remind her how much I owe my lifestyle to her. To make matters worse, with both of us out of the house working most days, we barely even get to see each other any more, not like the old days...

Krystie and Mary, for their part, have been ecstatic about being the best friends of two nationally-famous women, and have been taking bets over which of them will be the next 'media darling'. Krystie's even gone as far as to ask for another ballet-themed party for her 21st next month- her favourite ballet has always been the Nutcracker, and Charlotte and I have collaborated to make her the most perfect Sugar Plum Fairy costume of all time. The party will of course be good publicity for the ballet school Krystie's just opened, which is already attracting students of all ages (Krystie's even told me that one of her adult students is a transwoman, as though I somehow knew every transgendered person in London). I was happy to lend Krystie the money to get the school started- my TV appearances are making me a healthy amount of income, much more than my modelling career ever did- but when I offered to go halves with Charlotte, she was extremely reluctant- almost as if she didn't want her friend to become successful on her own terms.

Probably my closest confidante since my rise to fame, however, has been Stuart. As you may have inferred from the fact that I was seeing Jonathan and not him, Stuart and I are not a romantic item- in fact, Stuart's recently been on several dates over the past couple of weeks with the also newly-single Krystie! Whilst Stuart did accompany me to the prom we eventually did hold at the start of May, we decided it'd be best to remain friends, and even though Stuart is doing his level best to be as stereotypically boyish as possible- and has actually made close friends with Keith and his 'gang', where he's charmingly known as 'male Jamie' because of his transsexual status- he is a very good listener to whom I can open up freely about all the things happening in my life.

I knock on my parents' front door and my dad welcomes me in with his normal awkward not-quite-a-hug embrace.

"Can't help but notice there are no boys on the front doorstep," dad quips as mum brings me through a much-needed cup of tea.

"Eighteen months and you're finally getting it!" I joke, kicking off my wedges and tucking my legs underneath me on the sofa.

"You know what I mean," dad tuts, rolling his eyes.

"Jonathan and me... Were never really going to work," I say with a tinge of sadness.

"Oh Jamie, I'm so sorry," mum says, sitting down next to me and placing a comforting arm around my shoulders.

"It's fine, really," I sigh. "Some things are just doomed from the start, and me and Jonathan obviously fall into that category. Maybe it's too soon after Paul, I dunno."

"God, please tell me you're not still hung up on that arsehole," dad says bluntly. I sigh again and stare down into my tea.

"Maybe, I dunno," I concede. "Sixteen months is by far the longest relationship I ever had and by the end... I really thought I loved him. With Jonathan, that just wasn't there."

"You don't need a man to be happy," mum tells me.

"You could've waited until I left the room before saying that," dad interjects with mock-offence.

"JAMIE doesn't need a man to be happy," mum corrects, forcing a smile onto dad's lips.

"Better," my father says. "And I agree 100%. You're a beautiful, successful young woman regardless of whether you have a boyfriend or not. Never forget that."

"Believe me, I won't," I say happily.

"Now," mum says with an excited tone, "did I read correctly on your Facebook that you'd be doing a performance of The Nutcracker next month?" I giggle as mum- always excited by my ballet adventures- probes me for information for the rest of the day.

By the time 5pm rolls around, I find myself not wanting to leave the place that was, up until recently, just somewhere to come once a week, but which is becoming more and more 'my home' with every visit. With no boyfriend, and with things between me and Charlotte growing ever tenser, I find myself craving the stability of home life, even if I have spent the last two years trying my best to show the world that I am an independent woman. But I know I have to head 'home' to face Charlotte at some point today. I try to ease the tension, I make a point before leaving of setting my Facebook status to 'single' (previously that bit had been left blank). I switch my phone onto silent, not wanting to deal with the inevitable influx of concerned comments on my update, and drive home, where Charlotte is waiting to greet me in the entrance hall.

"Hey Jay," Charlotte says without any of her usual enthusiasm. "I noticed your Facebook update- should I call the girls over and tell them to bring their onesies?"

"Not this time," I reply, taking of my shoes and plopping myself down on my sofa. "Me and Jonathan decided it was best to nip it in the bud now rather than spend weeks, or even months, trying to force something that was never going to happen."

"That's a very mature attitude," Keith says, clearly pleased that his 'little sister' is once again not being 'defiled' or however he sees my relationships.

"...Or she STILL isn't over Paul," Charlotte says smugly. I sigh as I check my phone- and inevitably, there are dozens of notifications- messages of support for my new 'single' status. Messages from Keith, Charlotte, Krystie, Mary, Stuart, and even my parents, who'd I'd only seen minutes before- but not a peep from the man I called my boyfriend for sixteen months. I hate to admit it, but Charlotte may be right.

"Not even so much as a bloody text since he dumped me by phone," I whine, prompting Keith to leave the room and return seconds later with a small pot of Ben & Jerry's for me to tuck into.

"No ice cream for me?" Charlotte pouts.

"You don't need it," Keith says, wrapping his arms around Charlotte in a loving embrace that I deeply wish had been given to me. "I'm never gonna dump you." Charlotte grins widely and snuggles up to her boyfriend whilst I spend the rest of the evening coolly my sorrows with ice cream...

As a fashion model- and, I guess, now a celebrity- normally I make a point of watching my weight, and 150ml of ice cream does contain a lot of calories. Fortunately for me, Charlotte's remodelled our last remaining spare bedroom into a functional gym, so I swap my skirt & top for a sports bra and a pair of cycling shorts, and spend the rest of the evening working up a sweat on the various pieces of equipment- a much more preferable (albeit much sweatier) alternative to watching the latest chapter of Keith & Charlotte's love-in. Keith's been accepted onto a Master's course at a university in London, so he and Charlotte are now officially co-habiting. The press are naturally treating this as the latest great celebrity romance- even though they've been going out for seven years- and Keith has even found himself profiled in several teen magazines. Keith, of course, hates this, as he worked hard at his education and is gaining fame purely because of his looks and his association with Charlotte. The ironic thing is that he can't actually open up to Charlotte about- but always comes to me with any problems he may have, despite the fact that I'm barely more experienced at this lifestyle than he is!

I'm happily pedalling away on the exercise bike when Charlotte strolls in and parks herself on the weight machine (which I don't recall her ever having used).

"You know," Charlotte says sarcastically, "you could always NOT eat all that ice cream."

"If my butt gets big, I know who I'm blaming," I reply, making Charlotte chuckle. Two awkward, silent minutes pass before Charlotte speaks up again.

"Are you- are you okay, Jamie?" Charlotte asks in a far more sensitive tone than she usually adopts.

"Of course I am!" I say, trying (but not fully succeeding) to sound sincere. "Why would you ask?"

"I dunno," Charlotte concedes. "It's just that, ever since your 'big reveal'... You've been kinda different, kinda distant, you know? It seems like the only time I see you is when I'm watching one of your YouTube videos. I dunno if it's Paul or your enhanced workload, but... I feel like I'm losing my BFF, and I don't want that to happen." My pedalling slow as Charlotte talks- her words have more than struck a chord with me.

"I don't want that either," I confess as tears begin to well in my eyes. "But you have Keith living here full-time now, you don't need me..." As I speak, Charlotte walks up to me and all but drags me off the bike, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Of COURSE I need you!" She says, sniffling into my shoulder as I sniffle into hers. "I want things to be like they were when we first met, you know? We'd stay up all night watching DVDs, compare notes on our modelling shoots, gossip about boys... What happened to us?"

"I think... I think we grew up," I sigh.

"Ugh," Charlotte spits. "I swore to myself I'd never do that. Tell you a secret?"

"Go on," I reply.

"Sometimes I wish this whole 'celebrity' thing would just go away," Charlotte confesses, sitting on the now-rider less exercise bike. "Sometimes... I just wish I could go back to being plain, old Charlotte Hutchinson."

"You're rich enough to do that, if that's what you really want," I remind my BFF.

"Yeah, as if the press would let me," Charlotte snorts, allowing her ego to start shining through once again. "We- we need to make more days just for the two of us, like we used to do in the old days."

"The 'old days' you're talking about were only two years ago!" I giggle. "Though I agree with you, it feels more like ten. But yeah, something for just the two of us, like Australia last year. I'd love that."

"Then it's settled!" Charlotte commands. "You and I are going on holiday, just the two of us, no press, no work, and definitely no stupid boys!"

"Now THAT I can definitely agree on!" I say with a cheer, hugging Charlotte again.

I head to bed not long afterward- I've got an early morning tomorrow- but I bring my iPad into bed with me, looking up holiday destinations and pestering Charlotte over Facebook messenger with suggestions until I finally fall asleep just after midnight!

As usual for a Monday morning, my alarm wakes me up at 8am- I don't have any work today, but in less than an hour, Ellen, Krystie & Mary will arrive at our house and I need to be changed into my ballet gear long before that happens. Annoyingly, despite me having a new pile of colourful leotards, Ellen (and Krystie for that matter) is a stickler for protocol so after my usual morning routine, I'm forced to pick out a plain black leotard to go over my pink tights, though I do pick one with cap sleeves and a very low back, just to give me some individuality! Krystie & Mary arrive a few minutes later, already dressed in their uniforms but carrying large bags containing their street clothes, and I immediately drag Krystie up to my bedroom to tie my bun in what has become a sort-of pre-class ritual- she's much better at tying buns than I am, and has told me that she loves playing with my hair so much that we just decided it'd make much more sense to do it this way!

Ellen arrives a short while later and we start our lesson, focussing mostly on our upcoming Nutcracker-inspired performance. We still have some work to do- we've only been practising for a couple of weeks, after all- but Krystie's birthday isn't until the end of July, and all four of us have had plenty of dance experience, so we're confident we can make it work by the time of the big show.

After Ellen leaves, Krystie takes over, and immediately makes an announcement to the three of us.

"Girls, one of us is newly single," Krystie says, smiling slyly in my direction, "and she DIDN'T call us around for a onesie party last night, so I figure we'll just have the party now!" With that, Krystie pulls four thin, footless one-piece pyjama sets out of her clothing bag which the four of us dutifully pull on over our leotards.

"I'm really not THAT heartbroken," I say as I zip up my pink onesie, doing a couple of piques en pointe to get a feel for the garment.

"Also, how are you going to judge our form in these baggy things?" Charlotte complains.

"Oh form, schmorm," Krystie complains, pulling on her own onesie and grabbing me for a playful pas de deux, with Krystie- being three inches taller than me- playing the part of the man!

We dance on our onesies for the next hour- being immensely thankful in the hot June weather that the studio is well air-conditioned- before Krystie departs, having to head off to her studio to give some 'proper' ballet instruction, and Charlotte disappears to start work on her latest 'secret project', about which she is of course keeping us all in the dark. With the two of us at a loose end for the rest of the day, Mary and I quickly swap our leotards for sunglasses and flimsy bikinis and- after applying some sunscreen to each other- head down to Charlotte's pool, where Keith's been lazing for the past two hours.

"Don't," Keith warns as Mary and I sneak up behind him, fully intending to tip him out of his sun lounger and into the pool!

"FINE," I sigh with mock-exasperation, dragging a spare lounger over to the pool and stretching my hairless body out on it.

"Don't you have to be in Manchester tonight?" Keith asks, gazing in my direction.

"Not until late, the show is until 11am," I explain, relaxing as I absorb the Sun's rays. "Technically I could travel up tomorrow, if I didn't mind getting up at 6am."

"What's stopping you from doing that?" Keith asks, earning himself an exasperated stare.

"I mind getting up at 6am," I say, making it perfectly clear I'm stating the blindingly obvious. "Have you ever tried getting Charlotte out of bed at 6am?"

"Multiply it by ten and you get early-morning Jamie!" Mary jokes as she tops up her sunscreen.

"I don't recall you being that perky first thing in the morning either," I retort to my giggling Irish friend, remembering the long weekend us four girls spent in Cadiz last November.

"Maybe not," Mary concedes, "but I didn't literally roll from my bed to the bathroom!"

"I was hung over!" I complain to no avail as Keith joins in the giggling. Defeated, I lay back on my lounger and try to relax.

"How does it feel to actually be able to wear a bikini?" Mary asks, bringing a sly smile to my face.

"Utter bliss," I confess as I roll over and allow the sun to tan my back.

"What's this now?" Keith asks, confused.

"Chlorinated water ruins my prosthetic," I explain. "So I can't wear it underneath a bikini, only a one-piece, and Paul would absolutely refuse to touch me if I wasn't wearing it, so he's probably the only boyfriend in the world who's never seen his girlfriend in a bikini!" I giggle, before correcting myself. "Who HAD never seen his girlfriend in a bikini."

"His loss," Mary says confidently.

"Everything about me is his loss," I say smugly as I grab my phone out of my pool bag and start playing with it.

"If you're texting him right now, I'm taking that phone and hurling it in the pool," Mary states firmly.

"Oh please," I retort dismissively. "I'm just checking Facebook. HE'S the one who needs to come crawling back to ME."

"Atta girl," Mary congratulates me.

"Sooo..." Keith says after a brief pause, "you're telling me you're NOT wearing your, um, prosthetic right now?"

"Nope," I say with a confident smile.

"So if your bikini bottoms were to fall down, I'd see-" Keith asks, before I angrily cut him off.

"You'd see your own hand covering your eyes to preserve my modesty," I answer firmly and in maybe a sharper tone than is absolutely necessary. "I'm sorry, just- can we change the topic, please?"

"Sorry," Keith concedes. "Sorry, I know this must be a sensitive topic for you."

"My arsehole ex-boyfriend and my genitals?" I ask. "About as sensitive as it gets!"

"How about this, then: What show are you going to be on tomorrow?" Keith asks, instantly regaining a spot in my good books.

"Some daytime lifestyle show," I explain. "On one of the fifty-digit Sky Channels or something. It has a small viewership but a pretty consistent one, they want me to go on and talk about make-up and stuff. Easy money, really."

"...And if you don't want to do it, I'll happily cover for you!" Mary offers with a chuckle.

"I'll get you on TV soon, I promise," I say, chuckling at Mary's openness.

"No rush," Mary sighs, rolling over onto her front and untying her bikini at the back. "Can someone top up my sunscreen? Damn thing about having Irish skin is there's a very thin line between 'healthy tan' and 'burned to a crisp' and I'd prefer to stay on the right side of it!"

"Sure," I say, hopping off my sun lounger and smearing the cool cream into Mary's back, chuckling as Keith desperately tries to avert his gaze!

"You’re not going to see anything here either," I laugh. "And even if you do, we promise not to tell Charlotte!"

"It's so good having another girl do this," Mary sighs as I rub her cream into her back. "Every time my boyfriend does it I'm amazed I don't come out in bruises all over my back. Not exactly good when I'm modelling strapless dresses all day tomorrow."

"You know," I muse, "this is gonna sound silly, but I actually miss just getting dressed up and posing in front of a camera. I was talking about this yesterday with Charlotte, actually- we all seems to be getting too old too quickly."

"Well as I'm the oldest of us, thanks for that," Mary laughs sarcastically. "You know I'm actually kinda envious of you, and not just 'cause of the fame and the endless supply of work, but of the university stuff. You really seem to know where you're going with your life. Krystie too, what with her teaching and all."

"Hey, you're a successful, sexy model," I reply, making Mary sigh happily. "That's a pretty good destination for your life, right?"

"Yeah, and it's one that's going to dump me like a bad smell once I'm thirty," Mary mutters. "I want to do something like you and Krystie. You know I always thought I'd make a good secondary school teacher when I was younger. I've got four elder siblings so I'm used to being in a crowded place with unruly teenagers, heh."

"Why don't you go for it, then?" Keith interjects with a smile. "You've told me before you've got qualifications, go enroll at university, get your degree and qualification and just do it! There's bound to plenty of clearing places available over the summer."

"I dunno," Mary sighs lazily. "It's a lot of time and expense..."

"I'll lend you the money," I instantly offer. "I loaned Krystie the money to start up her school, you're one of my best friends too, it seems only fair."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," Mary complains futilely.

"The hell you can't," I laugh. "It's decided. When you apply for uni- I'm lending you the money so you don't have to mess around with student loans for the rest of your life."

"Oh okay, you twisted my arm," Mary says, making us all chuckle as she re-ties her bikini and I take her place on the sun lounger, smiling at Keith's discomfort as she applies extra sunscreen to my back.

We talk about our futures for the next fifteen minutes until Dan (Mary's boyfriend) and Stuart arrive, both quickly stripping down to their swimming shorts. Mary, of course, quickly runs over to her boyfriend to give him a kiss- and he responds by scooping her bikini-clad body up in his arms and jumping in the pool! With Mary 'busy' in the pool with her boyfriend and Keith & Stuart quickly deciding to cover up and go indoors to play videogames- despite the Sun being GLORIOUS today- I decide to stop being a fifth wheel and head indoors to pack for my trip.

The mandatory four outfits find their way into my pink overnight case, along with my toiletries, cosmetics and pills, and after changing into a white crop top and a short dunagree-style dress, I check in on everyone before leaving. Sure enough, Stuart and Keith are still engrossed in their stupid game- though in a way I can sympathise with Stuart's need to feel like he's 'one of the boys', in much the same way I tried hard to fit in as 'one of the girls'. For every step of that particular journey, I had Charlotte by my side- Stuart doesn't really have a BFF, at least not until now, so I can forgive him preferring the company of other boys for now. Mary & Dan are still at poolside, with Dan topping up Mary's sunscreen just as I had earlier.

I take a deep breath, grab my bag and head out of the house, musing over the conversations I had with Charlotte yesterday and with Mary earlier today- I may be getting older and more settled in my life and my career, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy every step of the way!

I arrive in Manchester just before 8:30pm and check into my hotel, tiredly collapsing on the double bed before connecting my iPad to the hotel's Wi-Fi and checking my Facebook. After noticing that Stuart was online, I shoot him a quick message.

"Hey," I type.

"Hey," comes the near-immediate response.

"Didn't get to talk to you much today," I reply, a contented smile on my lips. "Everything okay with you?"

"Fine," Stuart replies. I roll my eyes and type my response.

"Are we doing one-word only replies today? :-)" I type.

"No," comes his response, followed a short while later by a ":-p" emoticon.

"Lol," I type, whilst legitimately laughing out loud. "You with Krystie right now?"

"Nah," Stuart replies. "She's round at Mary's, think they need a boy-free night."

"Heh," I reply, feeling a little down inside that a girl's night- for that is undoubtedly what's happening- is going on without me.

"You in Manchester?" Stuart types, making me smile that he's at least paying SOME attention to my life.

"Yep," I answer. "Back at Chez Premier Inn. Have to be up at 7am tomorrow, ugh."

"I'll think about you when I sleep in," comes the sarcastic reply.

"Don't worry," I retort, "I'll remember to call you at 7am to make sure you're awake!"

"Deserved," Stuart concedes, before a brief pause in the conversation. "Is everything okay with you, Jamie? You don't normally bury yourself in Facebook when you're staying in a hotel."

"Bored," I reply. "Need human company, even if it just on messenger."

"There's a whole city outside your window," Stuart types. "Go out and conquer it. :-) Okay, admittedly they are northerners..." I giggle at Stuart's joke.

"Maybe next time," I type. "Besides, a friend's worth a thousand strangers."

"Very true," Stuart replies.

"And a best friend's worth a million strangers," I continue. "And I feel like I'm losing my BFF."

"You and Charlotte been fighting?" Stuart asks. Fortunately I know him well enough to know when he's concerned, even if the cold text of an instant message doesn't convey that emotion.

"Not fighting," I reply. "I just miss the old days when it'd just be me and Charlotte. Now Keith's living with her, we're both shooting off to opposite corners of the country every day, now she's got this secret project that she's not letting me in on, even after we fought over my uni and her strictly last year..."

"I can't speak for Charlotte," Stuart replies, "but you know how much Krys loves you. Mary too, for that matter. Both of them religiously watch every second of TV that you're on. I don't remember them ever saying they do that for Charlotte."

"I love them both dearly," I admit. "But Charlotte was the first to really embrace 'Jamie-Lee'. It's fair to say without her, there wouldn't be a Jamie-Lee." Stuart begins typing a reply, but it takes almost three minutes to finally come through to my iPad.

"It's not her inspiring T-girls and T-boys around the world," Stuart types. "Charlotte may have given you your start but everything else is all Jamie-Lee. She should consider herself fortunate to have such an amazing friend as you. God knows I do." I actually have to blink tears out of my eyes as I read and re-read Stuart's message. For someone so determined to be a stereotypical boy, he's one of the most amazing and sensitive people I know.

"Thank you so much," I say out loud at the same time I type it into the screen.

"Now you get some sleep!" Stuart commands. "I actually had to retune my Sky dish to pick up that channel you're on tomorrow, it had better be worth it!"

"I'll make you all proud!" I type with a smile on my face. "Night, Stu."

"Night, J-L," Stuart types as I close down the app on my iPad and get ready for bed.

I wake up and perform my usual 'morning hotel routine'- a cut-down version of my normal morning routine- before picking out my TV outfit for the day, a cute pink dress and matching heels. The dress is formal with a short, straight skirt, but retains a playful quality with short sleeves, a low neckline and a small peplum. Before I leave, I paint my nails the required ten different shades of red, pink and black for the show, before grabbing my things, checking out of the hotel and heading to the studio.

Over the last two months I've become so comfortable in front of the camera that it's almost become second nature to me to talk expertly about cosmetics and fashion in front of an audience of thousands. The continued success of my blog and YouTube channel- which is fast approaching a hundred thousand subscribers- means I'm in constant demand, and on some TV appearances- today's included- my transsexual status isn't even raised. I'm introduced simply as 'Jamie-Lee Burke, model and fashion and beauty blogger'.

My piece lasts less than half an hour but at the end of it I'm itching for more, the nerves that accompanied my early TV appearances having long since evaporated. As usual, when I switch my phone back on after leaving the studio, I'm inundated with Facebook messages, texts and missed calls. In what has become a post-TV tradition for me, I phone the number that has, as always, left the most missed calls.

"Hi mum!" I excitedly beam as I climb in the taxi back to Piccadilly station.

"Jamie!" Mum gushes. "You were beautiful and brilliant as always! And I'm not the only one who thinks so!" After a bit of muffled scratching, a new voice quickly forces its way onto the phone.

"Jamie," dad says with clear pride in his voice, "you were absolutely brilliant today. You're an absolute natural in front of the camera, even if your dress was too low-cut!" I giggle at my father's almost stereotypical overprotectiveness of his daughter. "When is that agent of yours going to get you a hosting gig? You're clearly good enough and confident enough, it's about time the world sees that on a regular basis!" I laugh at my father's continued adherence to stereotypes, this time the 'my daughter is the best in the world at everything she does' stereotype.

"I've got a missed call from him," I say. "He doesn't usually call after a gig, so maybe this is it?"

"It had better be!" Dad says with a chuckle. "You get yourself home safe, Jamie. I love you."

"I love you too," I say with happy tears in my eyes. "And mum. I'll see you soon, I promise." I click off my phone and relax all the way back to London, a warm, contented feeling in my heart. Over the last 24 hours, I've been reminded just how much I'm loved by all the important people in my life. All but one...

"Great show today," Charlotte says coolly as I drag my weary body across my front door just after 4pm. I may not get nervous on shows any more, but regular 200 mile commutes are just about as much as my body can take!

"Thanks," I say with a warm smile as I head upstairs to unpack and change. "You get up to anything today?"

"You'll find out," Charlotte says with a sly smile.

"Oh come onnnnn," I mock-plead, deliberately stroking Charlotte's ego the way I know she likes. "I thought we weren't doing this any more, not after last August?" Charlotte simply chuckles at my fake-distress.

"I'll tell you soon, I promise," she says smugly, retreating into the living room and snuggling up to Keith on her sofa. I quickly change my dress for a comfortable t-shirt and denim miniskirt before heading downstairs and collapsing onto my sofa. I'm only allowed ten minutes of relaxation, however, before our front doorbell rings.

"Who the hell's calling tonight?" Keith ponders as he gets up to answer the door. "I thought the guys and girls were all busy tonight?"

"That's... What I assumed," Charlotte says, casting a wary glance in my direction that I pretend to ignore.

"Keith Hartley!" A familiar London-Nigerian accent booms from our front doorstep. "Bring me my superstar!" I get off my sofa and pad across the entrance hall to where my agent is stood with a wide, beaming grin on his face.

"Joshua?" I ask, confused by his presence at my home. In the two and a bit years I've worked for him, he's never dropped by before, and by the look on Charlotte's face, it's clearly something he never did for her either.

"Jamie!" Joshua exclaims happily, entering our house and wrapping me in a big, friendly hug. "Let's go for a drive!"

"Um, I'm barely dressed," I complain, feeling slightly embarrassed by my super-casual look, especially in front of Joshua who is, as always, wearing one of his expensive tailored suits.

"You're fine!" Joshua insists. "Grab some shoes and let's go!" Confused, I grab a plain pair of flats and follow Joshua out to his expensive Mercedes, loving the feel of the cold leather on my warm, smooth legs as I lower myself into his passenger seat.

"I- I'm sorry things didn't work out between me and Jonathan," I say, worried that the split might have upset Joshua in some way.

"You weren't mean to be together, not every couple works out and I know he'll be fine," Joshua says as he pulls away from our house. "But that's not why I'm here. I'll come right out and ask it: how would you like to work for Spencer and Hall?" My jaw drops as Joshua unleashes this wholly unexpected question on me.

"Umm," I stammer. "Wh- wh- they- Spencer and Hall!?" Joshua laughs a loud, booming laugh at my confusion.

"They love you!" Joshua reveals. "They got onto me today saying 'we want Jamie on our books, name your price'!"

"Um, and you'd be okay with this?" I ask, prompting another laugh from Joshua.

"Do you know how much exposure Charlotte got for me when she signed with them?" Joshua asks. "If I send a second model their way in as many years people will be knocking my door down to get on my books!"

"I- I thought I couldn't model for them," I say, the shock and confusion still overwhelming my body. "Because of my breasts, my cosmetic surgery..."

"They'll use you for something other than modelling, then," Joshua says candidly. "TV presenting, maybe? The camera loves you, Jamie. You're a natural, it's about time you got a regular hosting job!" I smirk as Joshua- the closest thing I had to a father figure before my reconciliation two Christmases ago- mirrors the words said by my real father mere hours ago.

"I'm only 21," I say, realising that my counter-arguments are getting feebler with every word I say.

"Kelly Brook was only 19 when she hosted the Big Breakfast," Joshua states. "Fearne Cotton was only 15, and you've got the potential to be bigger than both of those girls!"

"I- I don't know..." I say, desperately trying to take in what Joshua's telling me. A job offer from Spencer & Hall is a big deal, a seriously big deal. They turned Charlotte from a model to a superstar almost overnight, and Joshua's clearly under the impression the exact same thing would happen to me if I were to sign with them.

"I can't force you to sign with them," Joshua says. "But I can give you advice, as your agent- TAKE. THIS. OFFER." Joshua bangs his steering wheel, emphasising every word he says. "You will be a millionaire very quickly. I promise you that. And if you're worrying about abandoning me, don't! When they see you sign for Spencer and Hall, I'll get every model in the country begging to be let onto my books!" I take a deep breath before replying.

"...It's Charlotte I'm most worried about," I sigh. "You know how... Worked up she can get if she feels someone's trespassing on her turf."

"She's lucky to have you as a friend," Joshua repeats Stuart's words from last night. "But don't worry about her."

"Easy to say when you don't live with her," I quip, prompting another a booming laugh from Joshua.

"Very true!" Joshua happily concedes. "I'll drop you home, talk it over with Charlotte if you need to. We've got an interview at Spencer and Hall tomorrow. I'll pick you up at 10:30. Make sure you wear something more appropriate than a t-shirt and a denim mini!" I giggle at Joshua's mock-reprimand.

"I'll be ready," I say, confidence building within me. True to his word, Joshua drops me home fifteen minutes later, barely pausing for breath as he describes what to expect from the Spencer and Hall interview- little knowing, of course, that I've already sat through two on Charlotte's behalf myself!

I take a deep breath as I enter the living room, dreading how the woman I still consider my BFF will react to my news.

“Hey Charlotte,” I begin nervously, trying to stop my voice from trembling with fear. How much must our relationship have descended that I’m afraid of talking to the one woman in the world I should trust the most?

“Hey Jay,” Charlotte replies. “What was up with Joshua?”

“Can- can I talk to you in private, please?” Confused, Charlotte unwraps herself from Keith’s arms and follows me to the kitchen, where we both sit. “God, you look terrified! Has Joshua fired you or something?” How typical of her that she’d automatically assume the worst.

“I wanted to tell you this first before I make any decisions,” I explain, only strengthening Charlotte’s confusion. “The reason Joshua needed to see me… Is because I’ve been offered representation by Spencer and Hall.” Charlotte’s stoic face doesn’t move a muscle for the next ten seconds as she sits still, staring at me.

“I see,” she says in a clipped voice. “I should’ve expected that, really.” I smile at Charlotte’s words, wrongly assuming them to be a compliment.

“You really think so?” I ask, prompting a dark stare from my housemate.

“Of course!” She answers, anger starting to seep into her voice. “I mean that is the way it’s going, isn’t it? Everything I have, you want, and you’re determined to get! No, in fact, everything I have, you’re determined to get handed to you on a silver f**king platter!” I sit back, stunned by my friend’s unwarranted outburst.

“I- I didn’t ask for this,” I try to explain to no avail.

“No, of course you didn’t!” Charlotte spits. “Never mind the fact that my father had to bribe that place half a million pounds just to get me an interview, precious Princess Jamie just flutters her eyelashes and they bend over backwards to accommodate her! Pretty ironic, don’t you think?”

“That’s not the way it is!” I plead, tears starting to form in my eyes as Charlotte grows angrier and angrier.

“No of course it isn’t,” Charlotte mocks, “because precious Princess Jamie says it isn’t! You disgust me! Acting all sweet and innocent, all ‘oh this is such a shock, I can’t believe this is happening to me’ when this is what you wanted all along! Hey, how about I just dump Keith so you can take him away from me too?”

“Charlotte, please!” I yell, desperately trying to defuse the woman’s rage.

“You know,” Charlotte continues, bile dripping from her voice. “They always say ‘there’s always someone better out there somewhere’. I just never expected that someone to be a fake woman I made myself!” I take several deep, silent breaths to try to stop my own anger from rising as Charlotte cuts me with this most personal of insults.

“What’s going on?” Keith asks, bursting into the kitchen. “I heard raised voices, is everything okay?”

“It’ll be fine,” Charlotte spits, “once this… THING! Gets out of my sight!” Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as the woman who used to be my best friend repeatedly stabs me through the heart with her words.

“Come on, come on,” Keith says, clearly uncomfortable with his girlfriend’s words. “Let’s go upstairs, try to calm yourself down.” Charlotte silently leaves the kitchen, not even looking me in the eye as I slump back into my chair, nauseated and deeply wounded by Charlotte’s words.

I eventually drag myself upstairs and into my room a short while later, collapsing on my bed and trying to put the day’s events out of my head. I’m only alone for a quarter of an hour, however, before I hear a gentle knock on my door. I involuntarily bristle as Charlotte pokes her head around my door.

“What do you want?” I ask, barely disguising the hurt in my voice.

“That’s fair,” Charlotte concedes. “That’s perfectly fair. I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such a bitch, such a monster.” My face softens as I see that Charlotte’s contrition is genuine.

“Apology accepted,” I mumble as Charlotte parks herself on the edge of my bed.

“I know I shouldn’t be so jealous,” Charlotte explains as I listen intently. “I mean, it’s not like Spencer and Hall are going to fire me just so they can sign you, that’d be silly.” I try not to bristle at Charlotte’s casual dismissal of my work as she continues her explanation.

“It’s just-“ Charlotte continues, before letting out a long, heavy sigh. “I don’t know. I just figured- I just always thought you’d always need me. I know how silly that sounds.”

“Nah,” I say, a warm smile creeping onto my face.

“You know I’m an only child,” Charlotte explains, seemingly forgetting that I’m also an only child. “I kinda liked being a big sister. Now, I dunno, I have to settle for being a ‘twin’.” I giggle at Charlotte’s semi-explanation.

“Well, we do look enough alike to pull it off,” I joke, making Charlotte chuckle.

“We used to, I dunno about now,” Charlotte laughs. “If anything, you probably look MORE feminine than I do!” I laugh with my BFF, the same laugh we’ve shared countless times over the last two and a bit years.

“So you don’t want me to start packing then?” I jokingly ask, prompting Charlotte to slide down the bed to me and wrap me in a tight, friendly hug.

“Of COURSE not!” Charlotte insists. “I told you on Sunday, you’re not a third wheel, you’re my best friend and I NEED you in my life!” I sigh as I return Charlotte’s hug, cementing our latest reconciliation. This is far from the first time we’ve ever fought, and it’s probably not the biggest fight we’ve ever had, but this one cut the deepest. What Charlotte said to me… It was personal. INTENSELY personal, and I have to believe Charlotte was aware of every word she was saying whether or not she ‘saw red’. And I can’t help but feel that while Krystie went out of her way yesterday to make me feel better after my separation from Jonathan, and Mary, Stuart and even Keith will always check in on me of their own volition to make sure I’m okay, Charlotte had to be prompted- almost certainly by Keith- to make this apology, as genuine as it may have been.

I eventually nod off at 10:30pm, nerves about tomorrow’s interview pulsing through my body, but at nowhere near the level of nerves about the future of my friendship with Charlotte…

I wake up before my alarm goes off at 8am and quickly run through my morning routine before picking out my outfit for the day. In my mind I've run through numerous scenarios where I get invited to attend an interview for Spencer & Hall and I must've imagine a hundred different outfits I'd wear to the interview, but now that the day is here I'm at a loss as to what to actually wear for the big event. Joshua said 'appropriate' but it needs to be something more... individual than a plain skirt suit, whilst at the same time being appropriate for wear in an office. I decide to split the difference and wear a dress with a matching jacket. The dress is light blue and short- coming to just lower than mid thigh- but high-cut enough that I don't have cleavage spilling out everywhere. It is form-fitting, however, so I pull on a waist cincher and tighten it before zipping myself into the dress. I attach nude stockings to the garters of the waist cincher- you can't be bare-legged at an interview- and pick out my footwear for the day. The dress works much better with boots than with shoes, so I spend twenty minutes umming and ahing over where to pick out a pair that's above the knee or below the knee, before settling for a pair that comes to just below my knee. The boots have a zip side and a very high heel and are EXTREMELY sexy, especially with this dress! I repaint my nails a dark obsidian colour and brush my hair out, holding it back from my face with a slim Alice band in the same colour blue as my dress and jacket. My look screams 'sexy' and 'individual' in equal measure, just as I'd hoped.

As promised yesterday, Joshua is waiting for me outside at 10:30am with a big smile on his face.

“Beautiful Jamie!” Joshua booms as he opens the passenger door of his car for me. “I still cannot believe this is the last day you’ll be working for me!” I giggle as I sit down in his car, Joshua dutifully closing the door.

“I haven’t decided I’m going to sign for them yet,” I reply.

“Then decide quick!” Joshua insists. “They won’t want an answer immediately, but the sooner you say yes the sooner you’ll be a millionaire!” I chuckle at Joshua’s bombast- he’s not the calmest man in the world at the best of times but I’ve never seen him this excitable.

Much to my embarrassment, paparazzi are waiting as I enter Spencer & Hall’s palatial office building. I smile as the cameramen and women snap photo after photo of my elegantly-dressed body as I calmly stride into the offices, Joshua in tow. We’re only left waiting five minutes before being called up to the office where my interviewer- the same man who interviewed ‘me’ two years ago- is waiting for us.

“Jamie, Joshua,” the man says, shaking our hands as we take a seat opposite him. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

“Not a problem at all,” Joshua insists, his smile permanently plastered to his face.

“As I’m sure Joshua told you,” Graham- the interviewer- says to me, “we at Spencer and Hall have been very impressed with the way you’ve been conducting your media career so far. You’re calm, mature and confident in front of the camera, and- with all due respect to Joshua’s skills as an agent- we feel we will be able to market you so that you can gain maximum exposure both in Britain, and potentially worldwide.” I nod, prompting Graham to continue.

“Your ‘position’ is unique,” Graham explains. “To my knowledge there are no transsexual TV hosts in the UK, at least no regular ones, and certainly none as camera-friendly as yourself. We wouldn’t market you purely as ‘the transsexual host’, but we feel it would help open doors that would otherwise be closed to you.”

“I understand,” I say, slightly offended that my ‘status’ is being described as a marketing tool, but understanding the logic of the man’s argument.

“The opportunities ahead of you are limitless,” Graham explains. “We want to market you as someone who wants to be an ordinary girl who loves ordinary girl things.”

“That’s not a million miles from the truth!” I giggle, bringing a smile to Graham’s face.

“To that extent,” the sharply-dressed man continues, “we have a plan all laid out for you. Within two months, you will be the host of your own lifestyle show. Within four months, you’ll have launched your first single.”

“I- I can barely sing,” I complain.

“Neither could Charlotte,” Graham chuckles. “Not before we got her the best singing coach in the country to help her with her music career.” So THAT’s where she’s always disappearing to…

“Charlotte has a music career?” I ask, causing Graham to sigh.

“Oh damn it,” Graham says, shaking his head. “I do wish that girl wouldn’t constantly do that.”

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t understand…” I say, prompting Graham to smile at my confusion.

“Charlotte told me she wanted to embark on a singing career,” Graham explains. “So we helped her out by hiring a singing coach, preparing all the publicity, etc. etc. We’re planning a big launch later this month and told Charlotte to keep it quiet, but the trick of marketing, especially with big launches, is to try to make the people you’re launching to think they know what it’s all about before you officially unveil it. We’d hoped that she’d have told you- her best friend- then it’d get leaked in a small way so that people would show up for the big launch eager to have their suspicions confirmed rather than confused as to what’s going on. A bit like she did with her Strictly appearance last year.”

“It’s the secret to good marketing,” Joshua confirms. “You’ll no doubt find out similar in your studies.” Joshua brings another point I needed to make to mind, which I immediately raise.

“…And my studies…?” I ask hesitantly, bringing a smile to Graham’s face.

“You can of course continue your studies in your own time,” Graham replies. “Your work for us will, of course, take precedence, but having you studying at university, showing that you’re brains as well as beauty? It can only increase your marketability.” I nod, and take a deep breath.

“I think I’m going to need time to take this all in,” I explain.

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Graham says with a friendly smile. “We don’t normally headhunt clients, but your case is unique and special. You’re highly loved and respected by the British media. Let’s take advantage of this.”

“And make millions!” Joshua interjects, bringing forth a laugh from Graham.

“Yes, that too,” Graham chuckles. “Is there anything you want to ask me?” One thing immediately springs to mind that I find myself asking before I can control my tongue.

“Can you get me on Strictly?” I ask, before blushing at my over-eagerness.

“Not this year,” Graham says matter-of-factly. “But we can certainly look toward getting you on next year or in 2015. You wouldn’t be the first transgendered contestant anywhere in the world but you would be the first on the British show, which we can use to great advantage.” I nod, still desperately trying to absorb the information.

“Take your time before making this decision,” Graham says. “You will be working hard, very hard for us, but it’s work that you’re more than capable of doing and you will make vast quantities of money.”

“…How much, exactly?” I ask.

“In your first twelve months you’ll make somewhere in the region of £200 000,” Graham says, almost knocking me out of my chair with shock. “That figure will only increase as you get more and more famous.”

“By comparison,” Joshua interjects, “with me you’ll be lucky if you 45 grand a year.”

“That’s still more money than I’ve ever known,” I breathe, staggered that my time would be worth THAT much money.

“You’re worth every penny and more!” Joshua reassures me as Graham hands me his card.

“This is my number,” Graham explains. “Call me once you’ve made your decision.”

“I will, I promise,” I say as Graham shows myself and Joshua out of his office.

“You MUST take this offer!” Joshua insists as we climb back into his car.

“I- I need to talk it over, with Charlotte,” I say, still stunned by the amounts of money being discussed.

“Never mind about her!” Joshua says dismissively. “This is Jamie-Lee’s time!” Everything Joshua says makes sense to me. Before today, if you’d offered me 200 grand a year, I’d have happily taken it regardless of the cost. But with mine & Charlotte’s relationship now more strained than ever… Some things are more important than money.

After Joshua drops me at my home, I’m surprised by the presence of two large box vans in our driveway delivering food and drink.

“Hey Jay!” Charlotte says with a warm and yet slightly smug smile on her face. “Never mind these guys, they’re just delivering stuff for the party tonight.” Needless to say, this has me pretty confused.

“Umm, what party?” I ask, carefully stepping around all the bags and boxes.

“Oh, sorry,” Charlotte says in a tone that can only be described as condescending. “I just thought, now that you work for Spencer and Hall, they’d have told you?” I inwardly sigh- whilst I’m always up for a party, Charlotte’s undoubtedly thrown this one last minute at least in part to spite me.

“I haven’t signed with them yet,” I say, heading up to my room to get changed. “What’s this party for?”

“It’s a surprise,” Charlotte says with a smug smile, all traces of last night’s contrition erased from her face. I have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying ‘What, your singing career?’

“What time will it start?” I ask, playing along with Charlotte’s charade for now.

“Just after 8,” Charlotte says with a smug smile. “Wear something sexy, I’m expecting some press to be here!”

Heeding Charlotte's words, I head up to my room and take off my boots and dress suit (and my waist cincher!), pulling on a slouchy t-shirt dress before getting ready for the party. After enhancing my make-up and painting my toenails black to match my fingernails, I pull on a short black cocktail dress and a matching pair of torturously high platform stilettos, before putting on a pair of sexy gold earrings and my most expensive jewellery. After applying some of my sexiest, most feminine perfume, I take a couple of photos for my blog and my Instagram, before heading downstairs just after 8:15pm to find several people already here, including a few famous faces, Radio 1 DJs and a couple of singers who’ve recently been on the X-Factor- all but confirming my suspicions as to the purpose of the party. Needless to say, Krystie and Mary are already here, accompanied by Stuart and Dan Respectively, both looking sexy in their designer shirts and trousers.

“Hey, Jamie!” Krystie greets me with a quick hug as I elegantly swish into the main room.

“Hey Krys!” I say, happily returning the hug. “Has Charlie made her big announcement yet?”

“She isn’t even here yet,” Mary jokes. “Only she’d be fashionably late to her own party. Still, gives me more time to network with all the celebs!”

Sure enough, five minutes later, to great fanfare, Charlotte sweeps into the room in a very short, low-cut dress, instantly attracting the attention of all the reporters and photographers in the room, eager to know why she summoned them all at a moment’s notice. Charlotte, of course, is keeping her cards close to her chest. Once she’s finished with her public, Charlotte makes a beeline straight for myself & the girls.

“Hey Jay, hey girls,” Charlotte says with a very smug smile on her face.

“Great turnout tonight!” Mary says, grinning widely. “Got a lot of big names here, can’t wait to hear your announcement!”

“Just a little longer,” Charlotte giggles. “This is going to be SO awesome, even bigger than the party I had after my first Spencer & Hall job!” Charlotte looks at me slyly as she says this last sentence, almost as if she’s daring me to rain on her parade.

“Now be fair, you were only nineteen back then,” Mary reminds Charlotte. “God knows if I signed for them I’d probably take out a full-page ad in a newspaper and party for a week!”

“Make that two weeks for me!” Krystie laughs. I bite my tongue- I’m so desperate to tell the girls about my offer from them that it almost hurts but I know I can’t ruin Charlotte’s night. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

“So Jay,” Charlotte says smugly, “how long will you party for when you accept the offer Spencer and Hall made you?”

‘Shit!’ I think to myself as Krystie and Mary both gasp at the news. I roll my eyes and answer.

“I haven’t accepted their offer yet,” I remind Charlotte as the girls fawn over me.

“Oh my god!” Krystie exclaims. “This is so awesome!” In my peripheral vision I can see Charlotte staring daggers at me.

‘You’re the one who brought this up,” I think to myself, shooting a sly smile back at my ‘BFF’. ‘What happens next is all on you.’

“Yeah, they said I’m in a ‘unique position’ in the British media,” I explain. “They want to market my ‘uniqueness’, get me hosting my own show…” I look pointedly at Charlotte before saying the next sentence. “…Even want to launch a music career for me.” Charlotte bites her lip, clearly seething with rage.

“Oh my god!” Krystie exclaims again. “That’ll be so cool, you’ll be in the charts!”

“Yeah, a music career?” Charlotte snaps sarcastically. “That’ll be soooooooo cool!”

“…Charlotte?” Mary asks, surprised by Charlotte’s sudden behaviour.

“Never mind the fact that I got here first,” Charlotte yells, raising her voice and inadvertently attracting the attention of everyone in the room. “Never mind the fact that you wouldn’t have JACK SHIT if it wasn’t for me, you just sit there and take everything I WORKED HARD FOR!” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Charlotte this furious. This one isn’t going to be resolved with a conversation on an exercise bike…

“You’re the one who brought it up!” I remind Charlotte, inadvertently raising my own voice. “Why can’t you just be happy that I’m making a success of my life?”

“BECAUSE IT’S MY LIFE!” Charlotte screams in my face. “I’M the one who’s meant to be the millionaire! I’M the one who’s meant to get all the TV experiences! I’M the one who’s meant to get the music career! ME!” By now, the entire room is stunned silent by Charlotte’s outburst. Part of my brain is screaming at me to walk away, but my own ego demands an answer to just one question.

“…Then what do you keep me around for, exactly?” I ask.

“To make me look better by comparison,” Charlotte states coldly. I don’t know whether to cry, scream or tear my own hair out in anger and frustration. Charlotte’s always had an ego on her, but right now she’s behaving like a borderline sociopath. I can see everyone else is shocked by her outburst as well.

“Well excuse me for not doing a good job of that right now!” I snipe back.

The next few seconds pass by in a blur. The last thing I remember clearly is Charlotte’s snarling face lunging toward me and a sharp pain on the left hand side of my face, before I fall roughly to the ground, winding myself. Almost immediately, Charlotte is on top of me, viciously pulling at my hair and clawing at my skin, but Stuart and Dan pull her off of me before any real damage can be done. I lay on the ground, stunned, for at least twenty seconds before I become aware of a voice talking to me.

“Jamie!” Krystie yells, shaking me back to reality. “Oh my god oh my god, are you okay?”

“Uh,” I grunt, still in a state of shock as to what happened.

“Get that bitch OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Charlotte- still physically restrained- yells in my direction. Nauseated, I stumble toward the front door of the house, supported by Krystie & Mary. As I reach the cool outside air, I throw up all over the gravel driveway, barely missing the bonnet of my Clio.

“I’ll take you to my place,” Krystie insists. “God, you’re shaking so much…” I don’t say a word as Krystie sits me down in the backseat of Mary’s car, instead slumping my head against the window.

I keep silent as Krystie leads me inside her small flat. It’s only once I’ve collapsed on her sofa that I finally break down in uncontrollable tears. Krystie and Mary are immediately at my side, silently holding me until I cry myself out.

Still silent, I opt for an early night- Krystie insists that I sleep in her bed (she’s sleeping on the sofa) and lends me a nightdress to change into, which I gratefully accept, even though I’m completely incapable of sleeping.

I replay the fight over and over in my mind, wondering what else I could have done, what I could have said or done differently that wouldn’t have destroyed the best, closest friendship I’ve ever had. In the past I’ve described Charlotte as my sister and in the past, that’s been true, but now…

Charlotte’s always had an ego on her and always had a desperate need to be the ‘alpha girl’, but in recent months- especially since my public ‘outing’- it’s blossomed to the point where it can only be described as paranoia. But telling me that she only kept me around to make her look good by comparison… I can’t believe that’s true. I refuse to believe that’s the case. Maybe she was drunk, maybe it was the wrong time of the month, but what she said… And to physically attack me? The notion that someone can lay their hands on someone they care about in anger… Well obviously I read about it and hear that it happens, but it’s an idea that’s completely alien to me. I treasure all my friends as those they were the most valuable things in the universe. In fact, they ARE the most valuable things in the universe, and that’s how I thought Charlotte saw me. How wrong I was.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to forgive her, maybe one day I’ll be able to understand why she did what she did, but not today. There’s a part of me that desperately wants to forget this ever happened, but logically I know it’s not something I can ignore. I’m going to have to stay away from Charlotte for a long, very long time.

I must have eventually nodded off at some point as when I wake up, it’s already daylight outside. A glance at the clock tells me that it’s only 5:30am, and I’m still exhausted, but sleeping is the last thing on my mind right now. I stagger into Krystie’s small bathroom and park myself on her toilet when I hear a low groan come from her bathtub.

“Uhh,” a familiar Irish voice complains. “Jamie? What time is it?”

“Half past five,” I say with a grimace. “Sorry…”

“No, the sooner I get up the sooner I’m out of this bloody thing,” Mary laughs, sitting on the edge of the tub. “How are you doing?”

“Terrible,” I confess. “I- I can’t, can’t understand…”

“It’s okay,” Mary says, gently holding my arm. “I would hug you if you weren’t, you know, taking a piss right now.” I chuckle, Mary’s joke helping to lighten my mood.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” I say, finishing my ‘ablution’ and wiping myself clean.

“You didn’t feel like standing, then?” Mary jokes, earning herself a soft, playful elbow.

“Girls don’t stand,” I remind Mary, poking my tongue out at the laughing Irish girl. “It wouldn’t work in this nightdress anyway.” Mary giggles as we head together into Krystie’s lounge, where the tall girl is still asleep on her sofa.

“Let’s not wake her,” Mary advises as we tiptoe past into her kitchen.

“Okay,” I say. “Even though I’m the one who’s supposed to be evil in the morning…” This time, it’s Mary who gives me the playful elbow as we both try not to laugh too loud and wake up our host.

“I wish things would just go back to the way they were,” I complain as I nurse a hot, sweet cup of coffee.

“Well I don’t,” Mary says sternly. “I don’t want to be friends with someone who only keeps me around to 'make them look good', and I DEFINITELY don’t want anything to do with someone who’d punch their supposed best friend.”

“…It was my fault,” I whine.

“Jamie!” Mary says angrily. “I was standing right fucking there! Yes, you were retaliating to what she said but that doesn’t justify what she did! Nothing can justify that!” I squeeze Mary’s hand supportively, glad to have a friend who truly cares about me.

“Thank you,” I whisper, choking back yet more tears. “Thank you so much!”

“And me & Krys will go and get your stuff from Charlotte’s house,” Mary offers. “Unless, of course, you want to-“

“Absolutely not,” I interrupt. “I don’t want to ever even SEE her again.” Mary sighs sadly at me, making me worry that despite what she just said, I may be bringing an end to this friendship as well.

“Where will you go?” Mary asks.

“I… I don’t know,” I answer, my head slumping forward. “I could always ask my parents- oh god, my parents!”

“What? What is it?” Mary asks, concerned by my sudden panic.

“You saw how many reporters were there last night,” I explain. “You know me and Charlotte will be plastered all over every news website in existence by now. My parents must be worried sick, and my phone’s still at Charlotte’s…” Mary simply smiles at my predicament. “What?” I ask, confused by my friend’s smile.

“You’re most concerned about your parents?” Mary asks. “Not your media career, your public image? You really are the best daughter ever!” Mary gets her own phone out and quickly composes a text message.

“Who are you texting?” I ask.

“Keith,” Mary answers. “Gonna ask if we can head round to get your stuff this morning. Don’t really wanna try talking to Charlotte.” Much to our surprise, Mary’s phone bleeps almost immediately once the message had been sent.

“Is he already up?” I ask as Mary reads the new message.

“Looks like it,” Mary answers. “Oh no…” Mary shows me the webpage on her phone and the headline makes my heart sink.

‘FIGHT! Charlotte Hutchinson and Jamie-Lee Burke come to blows at party to launch model’s singing career’

“Oh godddd…” I moan, my hands shaking as feelings of panic rise within me.

“CALM DOWN!” Mary urges. “Don’t panic, whatever you do! Just let me read the article, it looks like it’s on your side, as it should be.”

“Yeah, well I can kiss my career goodbye, can’t I?” I whine self-pityingly. “Spencer & Hall are never gonna want me now…”

“You don’t know that for sure!” Mary insists. “We’ll go to Charlotte’s, get your phone, get your stuff, and we’ll get everything sorted out.” I take several deep breaths to calm myself.

“Okay,” I say, slowly nodding my head.

“We’ll call your parents from my phone,” Mary announces. “What time do they get up usually?”

“Umm, I dunno, 6:30, I think,” I mutter.

“I’ll call them at 6:40 and explain what’s happened,” Mary states. “I’m sure they’ll be willing to let you move back in.”

“So much for living life as an independent woman,” I moan. “I can barely call myself either ‘independent’ or ‘a woman’.” Mary sighs, clearly tired of my self-pity.

“You are the most wonderful, gorgeous, talented woman I know,” the Irish girl says, giving me a quick hug. “You’ll get through this, and you’ll be stronger and better than ever before!” Choking back tears, I return Mary’s hug.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Thanks for starting breakfast without me,” Krystie complains groggily as she slumps into a chair next to me and is quickly pulled into the group hug.

After eating breakfast and filling in Krystie on what’s happened- she immediately offers her unconditional help, AND to let me stay with her for as long as I need- I make my call to my parents at exactly 6:40am.

“Hello?” The male voice on the other end of the line says.

“…Dad?” I begin hesitantly.

“Jamie, oh thank god,” dad says, the relief in his voice almost palpable. “Are you okay? We heard what happened, where are you now? Are you safe? Are you with friends?” I giggle as my father- normally the sternest, most stoic man in the universe- works himself into a near frenzy over my well-being.

“I’m fine!” I insist, eliciting a sigh of relief from my dad. “I’m staying with Krystie right now.”

“No you’re not, you’re moving back in with us, and we won’t hear otherwise!” Dad insists, bringing a relieved smile to my face.

“I’d like that,” I whisper. “But I do need to get my stuff back from Charlotte’s…”

“I’ll call work and tell them that I can’t come in today,” dad says in a voice I know better than to argue with. “I’ll tell them it’s a domestic emergency, which I guess is technically true. I’ll pick up your stuff from Charlotte’s then swing by and get you.”

“Thanks,” I say, before remembering a problem. “Oh, um, my car…”

“Perfect, we’ll have two cars to put your stuff in. I’ll bring your mum with me and she can drive it back,” dad insists. “All that matters is that you get yourself home and safe.”

“Thanks, dad,” I say, blinking yet more tears of happiness out of my eyes.

“I- I love you, Jamie,” dad mumbles awkwardly.

“I love you, dad,” I whisper, now crying openly as Krystie places a supportive arm around my shoulders.

“See?” Mary asks with a smile. “What did I tell you? It’s all worked out fine.”

“Yeah…” I say pensively. “Umm, would you mind dropping around Charlotte’s place anyway? There are, um, a few things there that I kinda don’t want my parents to be the ones to bring back…” Krystie and Mary both giggle at my awkward confession.

“Sure thing,” Mary says.

“I’ve got a pair of rubber gloves under the sink, you might need those!” Krystie jokes, earning herself a playful whack with a cushion!

After a quick shower, I pull the underwear I wore last night back on and change into a miniskirt and tank top Krystie generously loaned me. I feel utterly AWFUL going out without any make-up on, but I don't have any here and borrowing Krystie's or Mary's would be a little more intimate than I'd prefer. The girls leave me alone with my thoughts at 8:30 when Mary drives Krystie to work before picking up my 'secret' belongings (at least, that's the order in which I hope they did those two things). Much to my relief, Mary arrives back less than an hour later.

"Hey Jamie," Mary says, greeting me with a quick hug. "I've left your quote-unquote stuff in the boot of my car, and can I just say, as a good catholic: you go, girl!" I blush with embarrassment, not knowing just how much of the stuff Mary saw. "I didn't even know what some of that stuff even WAS..."

"Google it," I say, sticking my tongue out at my giggling friend as she hands me a small carrier bag full of cosmetics. "And THANK YOU. You are an absolute lifesaver."

"Going to get your face on before your parents get here?" Mary asks.

"That's the plan," I answer, retreating to Krystie's bedroom and applying a moderate layer of make-up to my bare face. "I really hope I'm wrong, I honestly, truly do, but I wouldn't be surprised if the press have sussed out I'll be staying with my parents for the foreseeable future."

"You're ALWAYS welcome at my place," Mary insists. "At least until the fuss dies down. They haven't traced you here yet, have they?"

"Thanks for using the word 'yet'," I quip.

"Sorry, sorry," Mary sighs. "But you can't hide from them forever..."

"I know," I sigh back. "And I don't intend to." I brace myself before asking my next question. "Did- did Charlotte say anything to you whilst you were there?"

"Didn't even see her," Mary confesses. "She was holed up in her room, Keith let me in. Think she's too ashamed to show her face. As she bloody well should be." I pause before finishing off my make-up- Charlotte's obviously feeling guilty about the fight- guilt or self-pity, one of the two.

"We'll no doubt hear from her soon," I mumble as I apply my lipstick.

"Sadly, I think you're right..." Mary replies.

Just over an hour later, Mary and I are alerted to the presence of two cars outside, and sure enough, my baby blue Clio is one of them. Still apprehensive about the press, I poke my head out of Krystie’s apartment, but fortunately they haven’t tracked me down just yet. After a welcome, calming hug from both mum and dad, I slide into the passenger seat of my car- always a strange experience- and relax as mum drives me home, with Mary & dad following in their own cars.

“It’s going to be so good to have you home, where you belong,” mum says happily. “We’ve got five years to catch up on, after all!”

“Yeah,” I say with a smile, switching my phone on and frowning at all the missed calls.

“I hope you’ll actually find some time to talk to me during this drive!” Mum jokes.

“Sorry,” I grimace. “I’m- I’m just kinda in demand, that’s all.”

“Ah, the price of having a rich and famous daughter!” Mum laughs. “You have to share her with the rest of the world!”

“Joshua’s called,” I sigh. “He’s got to have seen the news. Do- do you mind if I-?”

“Go right ahead,” mum insists. “It’s your day, you do what you need to do.” Bracing myself, I dial Joshua’s number. Unsurprisingly, the call is answered within 2 rings.

“Jamie-Lee Burke!” Joshua booms down the phone at me. “Or should I say ‘David Haye’?” I moan unhappily.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” I say, trying not to cry in front of my mother.

“Obviously this isn’t perfect,” Joshua continues. “But we need to move fast to limit any damage this may have caused. Spencer and Hall want to see us tomorrow at 10am. Where do you want me to pick you up?”

“…From my parents’ house,” I concede, knowing better than to argue with my agent.

“I’ll see you then,” Joshua says. “In the meantime, you get yourself happy! This is not the end of the world and nor should it be!” With that, Joshua clicks off the phone and leaves me alone with my thoughts.

“Was that your agent?” Mum asks.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I’ve got to meet him tomorrow. I was actually on the verge of signing with a big-name agency, the same one Charlotte’s signed to. That’s kinda why the fight happened.”

“I always knew that girl wasn’t good enough to be your friend,” mum says.

“What- what did she say, when you went round?” I ask hesitantly.

“I didn’t actually see her,” mum says. “It was that nice young man she’s going out with that helped us pack all your stuff, Charlotte didn’t come out of her bedroom at any point. Probably too ashamed of what she did.”

“I doubt it,” I retort.

“Either way,” mum says, “the important thing is that soon you’ll be home where you can be happy and safe. AND you’ve still got real friends who care about you a lot.”

“Thanks,” I say happily as we continue driving to my old- and new- home in the outskirts of London.

We arrive home mere minutes later and to my chagrin, paparazzi are already there, waiting for my arrival. Mum hurriedly ushers me into the house out of sight of the cameras before she, dad & Mary unload their cars into my new home. Once the final box is in, I collapse on the sofa, my head in my hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I brought this all on you,” I tearfully grovel to my parents.

“You have NOTHING to be sorry about,” mum says, sitting down next to me, gently rubbing my back. “You’re beautiful, famous, successful and talented, people want to know what’s happening with you, so obviously we’ll get reporters here from time to time! If your father and I weren’t okay with this, we would have found a way to be okay with it, for you.”

“Thank you, thank you so much,” I blub, hugging my mother tightly.

“Now,” dad says, sitting down next to me, “what do you want to do for the rest of today?” I sigh- when ‘my gang’ was complete, there would have been so many options, so many different things I’d have wanted to do, but here at home, with reporters parked outside…

“Nothing,” I answer. “I just want a lazy day, at home.”

“Then that’s what you’ll have,” mum insists, standing up. “I’ll put the kettle on. Mary, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want, I know Jamie could use a real friend right now.”

“Thanks, I’d like that,” Mary says, happily parking herself in the space my mum just vacated. “Do you have any old photo albums?” I playfully whack Mary with a cushion yet again as both my parents laugh, though after the last few days, looking back on old times- even if they weren’t the happiest times of my life, even if they were times when I was James, instead of Jamie- would be good right about now.

Mary sticks around until about 1:30pm, by which point the press outside my front door have all dispersed. With my parents’ help, I begin unpacking my boxes into my old childhood bedroom- it’s about half the size of my bedroom at Charlotte’s, but dad’s promised me that he’ll put in extra wardrobe space AND that I can use the spare bedroom for storage until I get my own place. Fortunately, I’ve stayed here often enough over the last few months that I’ve turned the room into something that is definitely Jamie’s and not James’s- but it’s still going to be strange knowing that this will be my home for the foreseeable future.

“Why does one girl need so many clothes?” Dad asks as he carefully hangs up my dresses in my tiny closet.

“She’s a fashion model!” Mum says with a laugh as she packs my vast lingerie collection into my chest of drawers. “She’s got to keep up appearances, you know!” Dad chuckles as he puts away my beautiful clothes, something I never imagined him happily doing even as soon as three months ago.

“Yes, but does she really need to keep this?” Dad asks, holding up the red tango dress I wore for my Strictly Come Dancing themed birthday party last year.

“Absolutely I need to keep it!” I complain, taking the dress off my father and holding it up against my body. “It was probably the best birthday I ever had… Even if certain recent events have kinda tainted it a little.”

“Well then,” dad says, taking back the dress and hanging it up, “we’ll just have to make sure that your 22nd is even better than your 21st, won’t we?”

“There’s really no need to go to any fuss,” I say.

“No need to go to any fuss!?” Dad asks incredulously. “No, you’re not telling me I can’t make a fuss out of my own daughter on her birthday. I may not be as rich as Charlotte but I’m going to make sure that you spend every second of your birthday happy!” I grin as I finish my current box of clothes and start on another one.

“First Paul and now Charlotte… It’s about time you had some real, consistent happiness in your life,” mum concurs as she reaches into her newest box, sighing happily as she sees what’s inside.

“What is it?” I ask, looking inside the box and seeing all my old, worn out pointe shoes inside.

“I do hope you won’t give up on your ballet,” mum sighs as she carefully inspects the old dance shoes. “You always look so contented when you’re dancing.”

“I am,” I confess, though the real reason I was so happy when I was dancing was that it was someone Charlotte and I could do together, something we both enjoyed greatly- and something that we obviously won’t be doing together any more. “Or rather, I was.”

“What do you mean?” Dad asks, seeing that I’m starting to get emotional again. Sighing, I slump down on the edge of my bed, my parents quickly joining me.

“I just- I just thought we’d be friends forever,” I sob, prompting mum to lean in and give me a much-needed hug.

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, you’re too good a friend for the likes of her!” Mum says. “Your other friends do ballet, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” I say, drying my eyes. “Actually, Krystie teaches it now, that’s why she couldn’t be here today.”

“Perfect!” Dad says, slapping me on the shoulder. “She can teach you, then. Actually, isn’t she the one having the ballet-themed birthday party next month?”

“Uh-huh,” I confirm. Dad simply grins even wider.

“See?” He says warmly. “Didn’t I tell you everything would work out fine?”

“Yeah,” I say, smiling happily. After everything is packed away I pick out my iPad and open up Facebook. Much to my dismay- but not my surprise- when I scroll down my extensive friends list, Charlotte’s name is nowhere to be found on it. Keith, however, is still on there, as are Krystie & Mary, much to my relief. I open up a new chat window with the two girls and start typing a message.

‘Hey,’ I type.

‘Heyyy, are you okay?” comes the immediate reply from Krystie.

‘Been better,’ I reply. ‘Got to talk to Spencer & Hall tomorrow, so that’ll be my career over.’

‘Bollocks it will!’ Mary types, prompting an ‘lol’ and a smiley face from Krystie. ‘Have you seen the gossip? Charlotte’s not been seen since last night and everyone’s tearing her a new one!’

'She is NOT popular anymore,' Krystie confirms. 'You thought she was seen as stuck-up when she was on Strictly? NOTHING compared to what people are saying now.'

'I'm deliberately trying to AVOID reading those articles,' I type.

'Wish I was as sensible as you,' Krystie types. I smile wickedly before composing my next message.

‘Girls’ night tomorrow?’ I type confidently.

‘Are you sure you’re up for it?’ Mary asks.

‘Normally I’d be a definite yes, but only if you’re sure you’re fine,’ Krystie concurs.

‘I’m sick of being upset about the past,’ I type. ‘You two are my new BFFs, I say we celebrate that with lots of drinking and lots of dancing!’

‘Will your parents let you stay out that late?’ Krystie asks, ending her sentence with an emoticon sticking its tongue out at me.

‘I’m not sleeping in your bathtub again!’ Mary jokes, prompting ‘lol’s from both of us.

‘It’s settled,’ I type. ‘I’ll book the taxi, see you both tomorrow night!’ After receiving smiley faces from both girls, I close the chat window and go back to my Facebook wall. I click through to both Krystie and Mary’s friend lists, but can’t find any trace of Charlotte on either of them. I truly, truly am blessed to have real friends like those two.

I eventually fall asleep at about 10:30pm after watching some TV with my parents, musing about how easily I settled back into my old life- albeit this time I have breasts and I’m wearing a miniskirt. I sleep right through the night, not waking up once until my phone’s alarm rouses me at 8am. Still sleepy, I pad through to the bathroom and sit down on the toilet, only musing after I start peeing that for most of the time I stayed here, I'd pee standing up, something unthinkable for me now.

“Morning, Jamie!” Mum says happily as I descend the stairs to the living room. “Your dad’s gone to work early and I’ve already been in the bathroom so it’s all yours if you need to take your time getting ready for your big meeting.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly as mum lays a full, rich breakfast in front of me including cereal, toast and coffee. “I doubt I’ll be able to eat this much!”

“Eat what you can,” mum advises. “I know you supermodels need to watch your weight but you’ll need food inside you today for this meeting!”

“…I’m not a supermodel,” I sigh. “In fact I haven’t actually done any modelling in ages.”

“Well then,” mum says, “how about ‘you celebrity superstars need to watch your weight’?” I grin as I eat my first slice of toast.

“Better,” I say with a grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept as well as I did last night.”

“It’s because you’re back where you belong,” mum says confidently. “I really did miss you over the last five years. And do you know, I think I like Jamie-Lee even more than I liked James.”

“Heh,” I chuckle. “Do you know, if I’d stuck around here I’d probably never have become Jamie-Lee. In fact, if I’d never met Charlotte, I’d probably never have become Jamie-Lee.”

“Just goes to show that the girl’s not ALL bad,” mum laughs. “And she did bring you back to me. Jamie,” mum pauses before continuing, “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive her?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “Maybe- I, I still love the girl dearly, I just- and this sounds weird, I know- I just, just don’t like her a great deal. All the ego, the constant need for validation… But you’re right, she’s not ALL bad.”

“Maybe you just grew out of her,” mum muses. “That’s what happens when you get older, I guess!” I giggle at the light-hearted teasing.

After finishing my breakfast, I head up to the bathroom and work out a new morning routine. After showering, taking my pills and brushing my hair, I apply my make-up whilst still in the bathroom- a light layer of foundation, followed by subtle eye shadow, moderate eyeliner and mascara, and scarlet lipstick. Padding back to my bedroom stark naked (not even wearing a vagina panty), I pick out a lacy black bra and thong set, wondering how I'll explain THIS ending up in my laundry basket. After rolling a pair of nude tights up my hairless legs, I pull on a black satin blouse and reach into my wardrobe for a suit that didn't get creased too much from being in a box for most of yesterday. The one that catches my eye the most is a charcoal grey suit with a seriously tight knee-length pencil skirt, which I quickly pull on before fixing my nail polish, spraying on a cloud of expensive perfume and pulling on my favourite jewellery, with the necklace I still call 'my parents' necklace' taking pride of place. After pulling on a pair of 5" heeled shoes that match my suit, I head downstairs to be greeted by a gasp of delight from my mother.

"Jamie!" Mum breathes. "You are truly, truly beautiful! Though do you have to wear such high heels?" I giggle a little as I sit on the sofa, waiting for Joshua.

"I thought I was a supermodel?" I joke. "Having to 'keep up appearances'?"

"At this rate," mum says with a smile, "supermodels are going to have to keep up with YOU!"

As promised, Joshua picks me up just after 10am and quickly whisks me off to Spencer & Hall’s office, where the paparazzi are already lying in wait. We both quickly walk past them into the reception area, not even stopping to acknowledge their existence. Unsurprisingly, we’re not kept waiting long before being ushered into Graham’s office.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Graham says as we take our seats. “Obviously I’m sure you appreciate we need to take steps to ensure this unfortunate business blows over as soon as possible.”

“Jamie is not to blame for the fight,” Joshua insists. “It was Charlotte who provoked her and Charlotte who threw the first punch.” Inwardly, I’m shocked that Joshua would be do eager to ‘throw Charlotte under the bus’- especially as mere months ago he would bend over backwards to help her whenever she needed it.

“We’ve looked into it,” Graham continues, undeterred by Joshua’s outburst. “And while there is certainly blame to be apportioned on both sides, we agree with you that it is much more Charlotte’s fault than Jamie’s. Obviously, it would not be good for business for us to have on our books two personalities who have recently come to blows.” I sigh and lower my head- I’d been expecting this, but it’s still heart breaking to hear it actually happen with my own ears.

“That’s why,” Graham says, “Jamie, if you sign with us, we’ll happily cut Charlotte loose.” I blink twice and look Graham in the eye- surely he can’t be serious?

“I- I’m sorry?” I stutter.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed over the past few months that Charlotte’s behaviour has become erratic,” Graham says- in truth, I hadn’t noticed, possibly because I’d been around her nearly 24/7, but in hindsight, he may have a point. “When we signed her we had planned on marketing her as ‘the girl making a name for herself despite her dysfunctional family’. When Charlotte herself became, well, ‘dysfunctional’, that image became harder and harder to maintain. With the press beginning to turn on her, and now fully turning on her after the fight, she’s become a liability. You, on the other hand, are still the unique, beloved girl that you were before the fight. Sure, there’ll be some damage limitation before we can start to properly market you, and you may need to issue a public statement and apology for your conduct, but if anything the knowledge that you’re imperfect- just like everyone else- will make the public warm to you all the more.” I try to take in what Graham’s saying, but his words are all a blur to me.

“…And there’s no way you could keep us both on your books?” I timidly ask.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Graham says. “We’ve invested a lot of money into Charlotte, and we would be writing off a loss by cutting her loose, but we feel that you’re a much, much more appealing prospect.”

“And don’t forget you’d be doing me a favour too!” Joshua butts in. “A lot of models want to sign with me as I’m the one who discovered Charlotte Hutchinson. Right now, that doesn’t mean much. But if I’m the one who discovered Jamie-Lee Burke…”

My decision should be a no-brainer. I’d be doing a job I loved, making a six-figure sum a year, guaranteed. I’d be making Joshua happy. I’d be making my parents happy, my friends ecstatic, and Spencer and Hall clearly think I can make them oodles of cash by being on their books. There’s only one person who’d be worse off if I took this offer- Charlotte.

“If I decline,” I whisper, “what will happen to Charlotte?”

“We’ll keep her on our books for now,” Graham answers. “Yes, there’s a lot of damage limitation to be done but she’s not irredeemable, not yet.”

Inside, I’m being torn apart by this decision. I love my job, but then I don’t want to lose Charlotte forever. I think back to what mum asked me earlier- would I be able to forgive Charlotte one day? Probably. Would she forgive me if I stole her job, confirming all of her supposedly paranoid delusions? Never.

“I’ve made my decision,” I say to the two highly expectant men.

Fifteen minutes later, Joshua’s driving me back home, a frown plastered over his normally-smiling face.

“Charlotte does not deserve to have a friend as loyal as you,” he states darkly.

“Thanks,” I mumble. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Joshua says, his mood lightening. “It just means I get to keep my favourite model on my books a while longer! You’ll still need to put out that public apology before I can get you any more work, but you let me worry about that. You get yourself home to your parents, have a night out with your girls and we’ll start again on Monday! Besides, I’m sure I can get another model into Spencer and Hall. Hannah’s been doing a lot of good work lately, especially since you and Krystie started your other careers!”

“Yeah, she’s pretty talented,” I say half-heartedly.

“And you still haven’t persuaded that gorgeous Irish friend of yours to sign for me yet!” Joshua reminds me, his trademark grin quickly returning to his face.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I giggle.

“There you are!” Joshua shouts happily. “We’re both smiling, we’re both laughing, things are going good again. You’ll probably never be a millionaire, but I’ll make sure you’re never short of work. Especially not when I’ve got retailers kicking my door down demanding your 2014 calendar and we haven’t even shot it yet!”

“Thanks,” I say with a genuine smile. “Can- can we swing by Charlotte’s before going home, please?” Joshua’s smile instantly disappears as I make my request.

“That’s not a good idea,” Joshua insists. “Give it time, let things settle down. She hasn’t even left the house since the fight. Did you see how pissed off her agent was at her?”

“I know I can get through to her,” I sigh. “I know her better than anyone else. At least… I thought I did. She’s taken me off Facebook and I know she won’t answer her phone for me- the only way I’ll get through to her is in person. At least let me talk to Keith…”

“Okay,” Joshua sighs unhappily. “I’ll take you round there. But it’s only to talk to Keith, and it’s only because you’re my favourite model, okay?”

“Okay,” I say. In my mind, I already know what I’m going to say to Charlotte. By declining Spencer & Hall’s offer, I’ve already proved her wild accusations wrong. I’m not expecting her to welcome me back with open arms, I just… want her not to hate me anymore.

Much to my relief, there are no paparazzi outside Charlotte’s house when Joshua pulls up outside it. I swing my legs out of the car and slowly stride up to what was, for over two years, my front door, and ring the doorbell. Unsurprisingly, it’s Keith who answers.

“Jamie,” Keith says quietly. “You- you really shouldn’t be here.”

“I just want to see her,” I whine. “I need to clear the air, if I call her or send her a message you know she won’t respond, please, please let me see her?”

“Who is it?” Charlotte yells from the living room. Keith pauses- looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights, before taking a deep breath.

“It’s-“ Keith begins, before I cut him off.

“It’s Jamie,” I interrupt. An awkward silence passes before Charlotte storms out of the living room and stomps toward me, eventually having to be physically restrained by Keith.

“You fuck off right now!” Charlotte spits at me, making my heart break once again. “Get the fuck out of my sight!” As hurt as I am by Charlotte’s words, I can’t help but be astonished at the way she looks. Her face is completely make-up free, her nail polish is chipped, her hair unkempt- clearly unwashed in at least two days- and she’s clad in a knee-length cotton nightie that’s a far cry from the exquisite tiny nightwear she usually wears.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry things came to this.” Charlotte calms down and stops having to be physically restrained by Keith, but there is still clear hatred in her eyes.

“You’d better be sorry,” she growls. With no other way to soothe her anger, I jump straight to playing my trump card.

“I turned down Spencer and Hall’s offer,” I say flatly. “They were going to fire you and hire me, but I declined so that you could keep their job.” Charlotte blinks twice, the anger in her eyes replaced by confusion.

“So you’re a stupid bitch as well as a selfish one,” she mumbles before storming off into the living room. Crestfallen, I head back to Joshua’s car, but I don’t get more than three steps before Keith speaks up.

“I’m sorry,” Keith says quietly. “I’m so, so sorry. On her behalf. I know she’ll eventually start missing having you around. I know I already do.”

“Thanks, Keith,” I whisper, blinking back tears.

“What you did for Charlotte, even after what she did…” Keith mutters, obviously not wanting Charlotte to hear what he’s saying. “…Sometimes I think I’m going out with the wrong girl.” My heart skips a beat as Keith says this to me. Even though my feelings for Paul were eventually genuine, I never stopped loving Keith. And now, there’s a very real chance I’ll never be able to see him again.

“Goodbye, Keith,” I say, my heart tearing in two as I head back to Joshua’s car.

“Goodbye, Jamie-Lee,” Keith says, real emotion in his own voice.

“KEITH!” Charlotte yells angrily, summoning her boyfriend back into the house. I hear the front door close and my head slumps forward, tears welling in my eyes.

“I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’,” Joshua says as I slump into the passenger seat of his car. “You probably needed that.”

“I needed a full-force kick in the stomach?” I ask.

“Sometimes everyone needs one of those!” Joshua laughs. “God knows there were times I could’ve benefitted from a kick or two in the head, let alone the stomach. You’ll be fine. Want to know how I know?”

“Go on,” I say.

“Because you are Jamie-Lee Burke,” Joshua states matter-of-factly. “And you are AMAZING.”

When we get home, there’s a small gaggle paparazzi camped out outside, much to my chagrin. I calmly stride past them into the welcome arms of my mother, who immediately thrusts a much-needed cup of tea into my ice-cold hands. Funny how the press are eager to get photos of me, but not Charlotte…

After stripping off my suit, changing into a casual black pencil mini and a pink short-sleeved top, I crash on the sofa with my iPad in hand, waiting for Joshua's inevitable email containing my apology.

"...You dropped round at Charlotte's, didn't you?" Mum asks. I close my eyes and nod my head, feeling just like I did when I was 4 and getting told off by my parents.

"I wish I hadn't," I sigh. "It was a complete disaster. I don't think she'll ever forgive me..."

"You've done nothing that needs forgiving!" Mum insists. "You mark my words, before too long, she'll be around here, begging you to let her be your friend again."

"I doubt it," I say with a heavy heart. "But I hope you're right..."

Joshua's email comes through less than 45 minutes later with a carefully-typed statement. Of course, being Joshua, he's already emailed the assembled reporters outside telling them I'll be delivering the statement within the next few minutes. Taking a deep breath, I step outside to face the press and immediately get several cameras and microphones pressed in my face.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to apologise for my actions,” I begin, trying desperately not to be too distracted by the flashbulbs going off in my face. “I deeply regret being involved in the altercation that took place on Wednesday night. Physical violence is not an example I want to set, and is never the answer to anything, and please believe me when I say that nothing like this will ever happen again. That is all, thank you.” Without pausing, I turn around and head back indoors, ignoring the questions and shouts of the paparazzi.

“You were very mature,” mum says, giving me a comforting hug. “I’m so very, very proud of you right now. I know your dad is, too.”

“Thanks,” I sniffle.

“Got another lazy day planned?” Mum asks with a smile that I happily reflect.

“Absolutely!” I reply. "Followed by a very loud, exciting evening!" Mum smiles, and with this whole incident behind me, I smile as well.

Dad arrives home just after 5:30pm and makes an immediate point of telling me just how proud he also is of me for my maturity in the face of what happened. After a quick dinner, I head upstairs to get ready- Charlotte or no Charlotte, it's still Friday night, and it's still Girls' night!

After applying my fake eyelashes, thick eyeliner and glittery gold eye shadow, I pick out three of my favourite lipsticks and lip liners, mixing them on my mouth so that any guy I see tonight will give his right arm to kiss it! I swap my bra & thong for a tiny black g-string and matching strapless bra, giggling when I imagine what my mum's reaction will be to THESE exotic items turning up in the laundry. I go bare-legged, but take the opportunity to touch up my toe- and fingernail polish, and spray a liberal amount of fake tan on my smooth, soft legs. I pick out a tiny clubbing dress with a halter neck that shows a LOT of cleavage, and a pair of 6"-heeled sandals. After brushing my hair out to its maximum possible volume, I douse myself in my sweetest-smelling perfume and put on my best gold jewellery before grabbing my bag and heading downstairs to where my parents are waiting.

"Before you say anything," I say confidently, "I'm 21 and I'll wear what I want."

"I would say 'not under my roof' but there's always the danger you'll move out," dad grumbles. "Though I am going to have to light a candle to get rid of that perfume smell!"

"Make sure you don't get photographed getting on and out of the taxi!" Mum warns, obviously worried about the length of my skirt.

Fortunately, when I leave the house at 8:30pm, the paparazzi have all dispersed. When I climb into the back of the black cab, Krystie and Mary ambush me with tight, friendly hugs, careful not ruin their equally thoroughly-prepared looks.

“Aww, you’re such a grown-up!” Krystie jokes, having obviously read or watched my public apology.

“Unlike someone else whose name we WON’T be mentioning tonight!” Mary laughs as I sit down between her and Krystie. “Where shall we go first?” I grin confidently.

“Wherever we want,” I say firmly. “This is OUR time now. First club you see that you like the look of? We’ll make it ours.”

Who needs Charlotte, anyway?