December 2021 Christmas Holidays Story Contest Entry

Tammy Prelude: Tom’s Christmas     Part 2 of 2

Please note this is a work of fiction and any perceived references to real people, real places or real institutions are for artistic purposes only!
 
Author's note: This story is set a year before Tamara's First Christmas. It is the second story in an occasional series of Preludes leading up to Tom Smart's metamorphosis into Tammy Smart.
 

-o-
 

Early on Friday morning the pair flew to Zurich so Richard could attend a meeting that afternoon. That had meant a silly o'clock departure from the house and Tom had been forced, out of necessity, to leave the new lounge-wear behind as his winter wear was now needed.

They travelled Business Class just after eight that morning and both were dressed as executives for the trip, but an upgrade wasn't forthcoming. Christmas day was five days away.

Tom accompanied his father into a late lunch meeting in a private room at a restaurant and made notes as the business was discussed, thankfully in English. This was a role the young Thomas smart had done many times before, but he once again noted that almost all of the personal assistants to senior bankers were female and wondered if this was a sign of things to come, despite his education?

It had been a year since Tom had been to Zurich, although Richard was there regularly. It seemed appropriate to take a walk around the old town and check out the Christmas market on Wienachtsdorf. Richard's phone rang and he left Tom sipping mulled wine pondering when they would head onto Geneva.

Richard returned fifteen minutes later, his face showed some concern.

"That was my Chairman. I've been invited to a dinner tonight by the President of a small bank with you as my guest."

"Fair enough."

"If only it was that simple? You were seen at the ballet by one of their board members and they believe you're my daughter."

"Didn't your Chairman correct him?"

"It's a little more complicated. The call also told me I'm hopefully going to sign a very lucrative deal with the President and my Chairman wants, needs, this to happen."

"So?"

"Can you dress like you did on Tuesday night?"

"Seriously, Dad?"

"I wouldn't ask you, not normally, but there's a bonus and of course you would get a share?"

"Can I have a think about it?"

"Not really, if you don't think you can pull it off then I'll say you're unwell, bad time of the ..."

"... month? I've heard that before, mum used it as an excuse?"

"Yes, but never ever tell her that. The same applies, if you can do this?"

"For you, Dad, yes. For anyone else I'd laugh in their face."

"That's my boy."

"How long do we have?"

"Two hours."

"Our luggage is at the airport?"

"It's being moved to the Hotel Schweizerhof. We have a suite there for tonight."

"Oh, if we're going to make them believe I'm your .... daughter .... then I'll need some extra bits. I'm told it's bad form to be seen in the same clothes twice?"

"Someone else said that, then didn't wear any of it."

"Okay, okay, there's a shopping mall at the station, isn't there?"

"Yes."

"I'll need a dress, hosiery, underwear, a makeover and a salon for my hair - not necessarily in that order. I hope this deal is worth it?"

"The bonus is £25,000."

"Ten thousand to me?"

"Done."

"Let's go, I need to change."

This was new territory for Tom and even newer for Tammy, they spoke as the pair walked to the hotel. "You realise, Dad, I'll be thrown out of school if any of this reaches them?"

"And I could lose my job at the bank if this is discovered? Yes, I realise the ramifications, and right now only my Chairman knows what the problem is. That's why it either has to be the best acting you've ever done, or I lie that you're unavailable."

"Remember, I haven't done anything on stage for several years."

"Well, when I was eleven or twelve I was told to appear as a girl in one of the Shakespeare plays, so I have some sympathy for you. I promise I'll never ask anything more important of you again. You'll need a name? How about Tam ...Tammy?"

"Too close to Tom, how about Sarah?"

"Fine, you'll do it?"

"Yes."

Richard checked them in, and ensured all their luggage had arrived, he then went out himself, leaving his son alone. Tom pondered wearing the skirt he'd bought in London but went back to his kilt, paired with the cream blouse, his vest straps were visible but somehow that was appropriate. With Richard absent, Tom changed his mind again and swapped the kilt for the skirt, with sheer tights and long socks.

Tom had bought one tube of cherry lipstick in London and applied this, hoping the minimal make-up would suffice. The long black coat provided protection from the cold.

Finally Tammy was ready; she lost the key-card and Tom's wallet in the coat pocket and shut the suite door behind her. As she stepped into the street she realised she was alone, in a foreign city, carrying ID that didn't match. The potential for fallout was huge; she put her head down and walked the short distance to the appropriately named ShopVille.

First she found a salon and booked an appointment for half an hour later, thanking everyone for the fortuitous cancellation slot. Next she found a kiosk selling ear studs and had her ears pierced, a simple Zirconia fixing would do for the evening. Next was a frock, at this point Tammy was in very new territory. She played safe, a long sleeved black dress would hide any imperfections. Finding one took a while, however, and she nearly missed her appointment.

Tammy's German wasn't brilliant but she tried to explain in French what was needed, hoping that the multilingual Swiss city could cope with her grammar and accent.

Given her current hair length, there was a clear limit to what could be done but some highlights were added, before a wave effect was added, fixed with plenty of spray. That took almost an hour and Tammy was running out of time. She hoped a simple lingerie and hosiery shop existed and had already decided to wear her boots, avoiding the need for new footwear. Black hosiery was needed, as well as black lingerie. The sizing was European metric so she reached for her phone again to look for the appropriate conversion.

This was the first time Tammy had bought a bra and she realised she had nothing to go into the cups. Instead she went for a bra with plenty of padding, knowing that this would likely be a once only event.

Finally she reached a cosmetics station and asked for a make-over, explaining it was for dinner. That set her back another large fee, but she left with several products. Finally she returned to the hotel room.

"Tom?"

"Try again, Dad."

"Sarah?"

"You'll need to zip me up, I'll call when I'm ready."

"That is something I never thought my son would ask me!"

“Right now, Daddy dear, you don’t have a son!”

-o-

They caught a mid morning service to Geneva, Tom travelled as Tom but opted for his kilt. He still had studs in his ears and hadn't washed his hair, simply brushing it out. The previous evening, somehow, had gone without a hitch. It turned out that the President was a widower and his own fifteen year old son was present. Thankfully the language for the evening was German and it just suited Tammy's basic grasp of that tongue. She also ensured that she had turned a cheek to the boy so as to avoid his tongue when the evening's business was concluded. One thing was certain Richard, and Tom, would receive a substantial bonus for a few hours work.

As their train left Zurich, Tom realised that in the past week he'd visited three capital cities but, despite Zurich and Geneva being the largest cities in Switzerland, neither was the Swiss capital.

They had gone for the later start in order to have a leisured breakfast, although that meant arriving in Geneva just after 2pm. They checked into their city centre hotel without any issues.

"What's the plan Dad? It's Saturday, so I guess there's no meetings? We aren't going straight to see mum are we?"

"Correct, but if you're asked then say we're still in Zurich?"

"Understood, when will we make it around the lake to Lausanne?"

"Monday latest, meanwhile relax and try to reset yourself? Perhaps find a way to cover up those streaks in your hair? And do you have to leave the studs in?"

"For two weeks apparently. They'll be mostly covered by my hair and quite a few boys wear studs these days."

"Not at St Andrews!"

"Things change,” Tom changed the subject, “what are we doing for food later?"

"Room service?"

"Sure. I guess that means I can have a leisurely shower? I think the highlights wash out"

"If they don't then you'll either have to dye it or have it all shaved off?"

"It'll wash out ...."

"Then get started, I'd like the old Tom back!"

Tom took a chance and hand-washed the previous evening's lingerie and hosiery before jumping in the shower. He had no idea when he might get away with wearing such delicates again, but the previous evening had reinforced the need for Tammy to exist, even if only for a few hours at a time. The problem was how to achieve that without causing multiple problems. He still had one sleep tee with him and chose this over the usual PJs, then settled down to read a new book.

-o-

They spent Sunday in same hotel, before finally taking the train around the Northern Western corner of Lake Geneva on Monday morning; it was now the twenty-third of December. They'd come through Lausanne on their inbound train two days ago, but this time the pair did disembark with their luggage. Tom was in clean pressed jeans with a white shirt. Under duress he had removed the studs, at least for now, and his hair was slicked back. They took a cab to the Hotel Angleterre & Residence where Tara was currently residing.

"Oh, you're here."

"Yes, mum."

"Did you come straight from school like that?"

"No, I've been with Dad a few days and helped him out."

"You could have called?"

"We've been busy. Sorry, but I need to get to my room."

"It's at the back, the best I could do."

Tom had been offered a selection of rooms several months earlier when the Christmas arrangements had initially been proposed and had, again, opted for a small room that didn't look over the lake. It offered a balcony and a good en-suite, plus it was two floors up from his mother's usual suite in the front of the hotel.

Richard had suggested he would take Tara out to lunch so Tom should sort himself out. He phoned room service and ordered a sandwich, asking that it be left outside his room. Tom then transformed himself into Tammy, using the skirt and blouse, given that the dress needed zipping up, and more importantly, zipping down to get out of it. Make-up followed and the studs were re-inserted. A knock on the door followed so Tammy waited a few seconds then opened it to find a tray, she bent at the knee to retrieve it, using her foot to close the door behind her.

With lunch out of the way she walked out onto the balcony, with a look across the town. She relaxed on the rail for a few minutes before a noise to her right caused Tammy to look over. A woman on an adjacent balcony, one floor up, was waving. Tammy waved back and quickly went back into the bedroom, closing the glass door.

Her confidence had suffered a knock and Tammy sat on the edge of the bed uncertain how to proceed. She'd wanted to experience the world for herself, and the balcony offered an escape, but what now?

She tried to relax, read a little, even put on an internet radio station but finally stripped off and redressed as Tom after giving his face a deep cleanse. The studs stayed, for now.

Richard and Tara ate elsewhere that evening and Tom guessed that his father was trying to rekindle something. Tom himself used room service again, then sent his kilt to the hotel laundry, along with a few other things.

-o-

Tom hadn't seen his mother since his arrival so had no real idea what may have happened between his parents as the only communication had been text messages from his father.

Locally Christmas Eve was celebrated more that the 25th; Tom appeared for breakfast in jeans and a sweatshirt and whilst the staff didn't say anything about his attire, Richard wasn't too happy and Tara was just plainly upset.

"Tom, are you doing this to make me, your mother, look bad?"

"What's the problem?"

"It's a special day, make an effort!"

"Are we eating out?"

"Me and your father will lunch out. We'll eat here this evening."

"I'll change for this evening."

"You'll change now!"

Richard did his best to stop Tara from raising her voice, but by now she had gained the attention of everyone in the breakfast room - much as Tom had expected. His father told Tom to sit down and have breakfast, much to Tara's chagrin.

His hair was down and he still had the studs in his ears but Tara had been so fixated on the jeans that she hadn't seen the sparkling studs. He ordered a coffee and an orange juice for his room and left the table as soon as he could. He hadn't wanted to be in Lausanne for Christmas but, at seventeen, still had little choice in such arrangements. He knew that, a year later, he could refuse even though he'd still be in school.

The coffee and OJ arrived with a cinnamon bun and a freshly laundered kilt.

A text arrived on his phone from his father:

"Your mother asked if you had a kilt with you so I said you did. She expects to see you in that for dinner this evening, try to be Scottish as she’s been telling the locals about you apparently."

Tom re-read the message and decided that his father wouldn't have asked for the kilt given the events of the past week, but was still apparently trying to keep a civil relationship with his wife.

Tom knew that his mother would always think of herself and her own perceived image ahead of anything else; in that respect she was very predictable.

Tom spent the day in his room, again, but didn't bother to change out of his jeans until the clock ticked over to six that evening. First he showered then started to dress.

Tom had an unopened packet of tartan tights and decided to test his mother. He pulled these up his legs under his kilt and added the boots to his feet. Up top he wore a vest with one of his short sleeved white shirts, topped by a black suit jacket; the straps were only obvious if he removed the jacket. The result looked co-ordinated even if it was a mix.

He received at text at 7.30pm saying his father was heading to the bar. Tom checked for anything amiss in the mirror then headed for the stairs.

"That's better dear."

Was the only comment from his mother who was holding a long drink. Tom suspected it wasn't her first of the day, nor her second. His father nodded but kept his mouth firmly closed, taking the easy way out. A lady walked up to speak to Tara, who in turn, introduced Richard and Tom. Tom then realised that she was the one who had disturbed Tammy on the balcony the previous day.

"Your mum has told me so much about you."

He adopted a soft Highland voice for his reply. "Really? There's not much to tell."

That earned Tom a glare from both parents and the woman walked away. Tom tried to work out her accent; the woman's English was very good but it had an Eastern European slant to it.

They were called to their table and a feast in ten acts. Tom decided by the seventh plate he'd had enough, he'd only had one beer and had spent the rest of the time on mineral water. His mother, meanwhile, was on her third long glass of the evening.

"I'm sorry, I'm very tired."

"You're coming to midnight mass with us!"

"No mum, I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

Tom walked away quickly but muttered thanks to the waiting staff as he left.

-o-

Christmas day dawned with Richard knocking on Tom's hotel room door. Tom was still in his nightwear but that didn't faze his father.

"Happy Christmas, Tom."

"Cheers, Dad. What's the plan?"

"We have a table booked by the lake, please don't do anything to wind up your mother!"

"I don't know what you mean?"

"I think you do. Is your suit clean? Did you get anything on the jacket last night?"

"It's clean and, yes, I'll wear it today. Thing is she's spoken just three or four times to me and last night was quite drunk by the time I left the table. She's worried that I might show her up, but isn't the reverse true?"

"Look, Tom, it's Christmas Day so please just play along and we'll get through this intact."

"Sure."

"I'll make a booking for you back in Geneva if you'd like to go there tomorrow? I'll catch up with you on Friday."

"Fair enough. Do you know who that woman was, the one who spoke to me in the bar?"

"She's in fashion, I think."

"Okay."

"Are you joining us for breakfast?"

"I think I'll take it up here."

"Understood."

Tom went through his clothes looking for something to wear, realising that his choice was limited. He ordered breakfast then quickly showered before going for jeans and a clean white shirt. By the time he'd finished breakfast there was a coffee stain on the jeans. He rinsed them in the shower before the stain fully dried but now was without his jeans. He didn't want to risk getting the suit trousers dirty before lunch so opted for the tights that had been rinsed and dried overnight, plus the tartan skirt.

He picked up his tablet and caught up with the day's news before curling his legs under him on the bed and switching to his latest book. Stockinged legs certainly felt different and it had only been this trip that he'd been confident enough to try the experience with the thin hosiery.

All of this was irrelevant, however, as school would restart in two weeks and any experimenting would have to be shelved, the risks were just too high. The prospect of Tom, dressed as a teenage girl, walking around Thurso was an image that didn't ring true. The same image in the great banking halls of the City of London was also dismissed as impossible.

Lunch went without a hitch, although his mother was again on the alcohol - Tom had a non-alcoholic cocktail - and there was an exchange of envelopes.

His envelope from his mother included a card but was otherwise empty. From his father he received a few share certificates but this was a running joke between them. A small note was included:

"I O U 10 K"

"Thank you Dad, very thoughtful."

A ping on Tom's phone earlier that morning had seen an additional £2000 paid into Tom's spending account to cover recent expenditure, he almost never needed to ask for money under the circumstances.

By the end of the meal Tom was ready to get away from his mother, he had no idea what her issue was but he felt very little connection to her. Thankfully she had decided she needed to visit a different hotel so his parents were soon out of the door.

For a change Tom sat in the hotel bar after lunch and only now had a small beer whilst he watched the world go past for an hour, issuing Christmas greetings where appropriate. When he saw his parents return from their 'walk' he slipped out of the bar via a different exit and circled back to the stairs.

He ordered a salad for later and retrieved his jeans from the balcony rail where they'd been drying. For now they could remain in the room. His hosiery was now dry but several shirts now needed washing.

-o-

Tom took breakfast the next morning in his room and did his best to avoid his mother before checking out to take a train back towards Geneva. In the UK the day would have been Boxing Day but was a public holiday named St Stephens Day across much of Switzerland. Fortunately, Geneva didn't observe the day’s holiday - that meant most stores were still open once Tom had checked in to his latest hotel.

It was very tempting to go out into the streets as Tammy but she didn't have a reason, an excuse to be there - Tom still felt he needed justification. He decided to see about finding another pair of jeans, perhaps pushing the style away from his usual straight leg? He crossed the Rhöne and walked around the narrow streets, guided by his phone. Tom ended up with a pair of stretch jeans that emphasised his narrow legs and lifted his derrière, plus a pair of bootlegs that did the opposite.

A late lunch followed, cheekily a burger from a small restaurant - this would be classed as a guilty pleasure given the rare times Tom could choose where to eat.

He drifted back to the river, enjoying the sights in the cold but dry air.

His phone rang as he walked.

"How are you?"

"Fine Dad, on my way back to the hotel."

"I'm due in Zurich on Friday, that President wants to see me again."

"Did you, err, need me?"

"No, that deal is done and this is a formal meeting at the bank. Having you there would complicate matters."

"Agreed."

"Good, can you make your own way back to London? I'll be a couple of days."

"Train or plane?"

"That's up to you, you should have enough in your account to cope?"

"Yeah, I think I'll try for a flight tomorrow morning. Can you ask Tricia to make it cosy and get the essentials?"

"Already spoken to her."

"Great, I wonder if I'll ever need a PA for myself?"

"Not whilst you're at school!"

"True."

-o-

The late December flights were busier than expected so the first one Tom could book was shortly after midday using BA727. It wasn't cheap either, setting him back some £300. An hour was gained thanks to the time-zones, plus a few minutes due to a tail wind, but this advantage was immediately being lost as his underground train crawled out of Heathrow Terminal 5 along the Piccadilly Line.

He'd hoped for a faster route home but it seemed, once he reached Leicester Square for his connection to the Northern Line, that he'd walked into the nightmare of bargain hunting and theatre crowds - all of them were in his way. There was no nice way to negotiate these subterranean passages when you were towing a suitcase and not quite five foot seven. It really was a Darwinian environment: survival of the fittest in twenty first century London.

When he finally arrived back in Edgware Tom dug into his satchel for the house keys, grateful that at least the house was warm. What did strike him as he shut the front door behind him was that it strictly wasn't a home, just a place he slept from time to time. Tonight he'd be on his own, and not for the first time, with both parents overseas.

It was already close to four in the afternoon on Friday and he needed food. Judging by the contents of the fridge, there were limited options and a shopping trip was needed. Richard's car was sat in the driveway but Tom didn't yet have a driving licence, something else that wouldn't likely be resolved until he finished school?

He checked the freezer and found a few ready meals that would suffice for later, opting for a chilli. It wasn't the usual way he ate but it meant virtually no cooking was required. A sandwich was the immediate need, followed by a banana - Tricia had been thoughtful enough to get fruit.

The next task was to load the washing machine and he knew enough on that subject that the black frock didn't go in with the white shirts. He'd been tempted to ask the hotel in Lausanne to launder the frock but had decided that would be too risky. As it stood, a minimum of two loads was needed but there was some satisfaction seeing his lingerie in the machine.

His father messaged to say he would travel back on Monday, meaning that Tom now had a whole weekend to himself. The call to become Tammy for the next few days was strong, almost a need. One option was for Tammy to venture out but the risk of exposure was high.

Saturday morning meant a walk to a nearby supermarket, but Tom wasn't a great cook as he never needed to do it. Various chilled ready meals were on offer and he bought one for that night. That afternoon he went back to Brent Cross and checked the bargain rails, without buying anything.

For an hour he wandered aimlessly around the major stores but only spent money on a coffee.

On Sunday he had a desire for a roast dinner, but gave up after calling three local pubs, all asking his age before saying nothing was available.

This didn't make sense; he'd travelled across the UK and Europe by himself, had used bars in several cities and could easily afford the most expensive item on the menu! But, under UK law, he was under eighteen so couldn't even have a 7Up or dinner on his own in most pubs. Back to the freezer he went.

Richard arrived back after dark the following day and a curry was ordered for delivery.

-o-

"What's up with you, Tom?" They were both up for breakfast shortly after seven.

"Nothing."

"You're moping, what is it?"

"I haven't had a roast dinner, a proper one, since the last Sunday I was at school. I didn't get a proper Christmas dinner anywhere and when I tried to get a table on Sunday I was told I was under age!"

"It's New Year's Eve ... the chances of getting a table are slim."

"Look, can we cook today? We need food anyway, but I don't know how to do it."

"I need to see the Chairman."

"When?"

"At half nine, so I need to get a move on."

"So what about dinner?"

"Muddle through, Tom?"

"That's what I've been doing! I need real food!"

"Okay, meet me at Canary Wharf at one."

"Why?"

"Lunch and maybe something else if things work out."

"Oh, okay."

Tom spent the morning doing housework, basically just trying to occupy himself. For the trip into 'town' he went for the skinny jeans and the tartan shirt, topped with a plain hoodie from his wardrobe. He took the Northern line then the Jubilee and came out of the underground station just before the appointed hour; he started to walk towards his father's HQ building and Richard was waiting just inside the main entrance.

"Ah, Tom, good timing. This is Angus Pilkington, the Chairman."

"Very well done, young Smart, we've been after that account for the last ten years and were accused of not being a family friendly bank. I still don't fully understand how you managed it, but well done."

"I was glad to help, Sir."

"I understand your father has you down as an intern so you have access to buildings?"

"That's correct, is it a problem?"

"Not at all if, between us, we can successfully negotiate the impossible, how would you like to be on the payroll for any time you're not at school?"

"That would be good, thank you."

"Plus, we'll pay for your university fees as well as a stipend."

"Well, thank you. What do I need to do?"

"Just get me one of those contracts once a year and we'll consider the debt repaid. Get me two contracts again and I'll make certain you get another bonus!"

Two, again? Tom parked that for now. "Understood."

The Chairman put his hand out which Tom shook firmly. "I'm told your father is needed elsewhere for the rest of the day so I won't expect to see him until next year."

Tom laughed politely, "I believe that's agreeable."

Tom waited as Richard spoke to the Chairman himself and then the Smarts walked out of the door.

"Where are we going?"

Richard didn't answer as they went into the Canary Wharf Shopping Centre, going up a level towards a very obvious Scottish flag.

They were expected, Richard had clearly booked in advance and they had a table on the upper level looking out over the vista below. Tom wasn't asked what food he wanted, it had clearly been ordered in advance, but the starter was Cock-a-leekie, a very traditional Scottish soup. Of course his accent was queried.

"Where d'you get that?"

"Thurso."

"That's a wee way from here?"

"It takes all night, I'll be on the sleeper back to Inverness soon."

The main meal was a full roast, somewhere between a Sunday roast and a Christmas Day roast but with a haggis. No alcohol was offered, it had already been established that Tom was still at school.

There was a choice of desserts, Tom went for the sorbet as it was the lightest available - did he have to start thinking about his figure?

They walked out of the restaurant around half past two, with Tom's appetite firmly satisfied. Richard was leading Tom towards the DLR station.

"Where are we going?"

"Wait and see."

They rode four stops to Mudchute, followed by a ten minute stroll across grass, a road and past a store. Richard finally stopped at a building and punched a code for the street door. "Take the lift or it's two flights."

"I'll walk."

There was one door on the level they had aimed for, Richard used a key to open it.

"Wow!"

"Thought you'd like it."

There were windows on two sides for the kitchen/diner/lounge but the two large bedrooms occupied another wall - both en-suite naturally. Tom had a wander.

"Okay, okay, what's the deal?"

"My bonus was a little bigger than expected."

"Why?"

"That second meeting in Zurich, when you weren't needed?"

"Yeah?"

"It was a partner bank to the one where your alter ego secured the deal, this was a bigger deal but, as my Chairman said, it was the reinforcement of our family outlook that swung it."

"Instead of the usual four guys in matching suits singing from the same hymn book?"

"Indeed."

"What's it worth?"

"In business terms, over a hundred million a year for the next ten years."

"What about this apartment then?"

"This is your bonus from the company."

"Mine?"

"You'll get it on your eighteenth, think of it as a bolt hole down here, I'll let Tricia have a key so she can prepare it for you. It still needs kitting out, it's a bit bare."

"What about the house?"

"I'm thinking about selling it, given how rarely we use it. That's a discussion I'll have to have with your mother when the time's right .... and not until after your eighteenth."

"Okay, Dad, thanks. Does mum actually need to know about this?"

"It's a business arrangement, you and I work for the bank and she just spends their, and our, money."

"That works for me, for now."

"How do you fancy getting it equipped before you go North? Get it so you can stay here?"

"It'll cost?"

"Sure, but the bank is going to send you some pay and I will move some money across. I'll need to head back into Europe on Friday as more deals are being offered, so you'll be on your own - can you handle it?"

"Sure, I think."

"Consider buying loo rolls, a kettle and a sleeping bag first!"

"Can we hit Ikea tomorrow?"

Tom knew he only had his father, and his father’s car, available for the next two days before Richard was back out of the country, so there was an urgency if Tom was to make the apartment liveable.

Online orders for furniture could be placed immediate but the next day was New Years Day so nothing would happen before the end of the week or possibly the following week as stores got back to work.

In the end Richard made one visit to Ikea on New Years Day to pick up the bare essentials, although that generated a difference of opinion.

“You can stay at the house until you go back to school?”

“These deliveries could arrive any time between breakfast and bedtime, so it’s best I sleep here from Friday – I’ll head here when you go to the airport.”

“Understandable.”

“But I’ll need a fridge, a table and a single bed just for now, and those won’t fit in your car?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get a van for tomorrow!”

“Can we move my clothes there?”

“Really?”

“Where will I be at Easter?”

“No idea.”

“Exactly, Dad, there’s every chance it won’t be here.”

“True.”

“I’m seventeen now and can cope on my own, you know that already!”

“I do but ……….”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think she cares enough to consider me. Christmas proved that.”

“You did wind her up, somewhat deliberately?”

“Just to prove a point, and rather successfully. I ate in my room more often than with you in Lausanne, and she never queried that. Just like when I left on the 26th?”

“I don’t want to agree with you Tom.”

“But you can’t disagree either?”

“I know, and right now all I care about is that you are happy.”

“Good, I’ll go and pack, I’ll just leave some clothes for tomorrow?”

“No, I get your point of view - we’ll take everything you need tomorrow, just leave a enough for one night at the house, just in case?”

Thursday’s shopping, with the van, took them to the Staples Corner shopping centre and various furniture and electrical items were loaded, including a fridge and washing machine. That sent them one junction East on the North Circular to the Tesco at Brent Cross for detergents and basic food stuffs.

Richard had the foresight to go to a hardware store and buy a trolley, this made loading and unloading much easier, especially with the van’s tail lift. Even so, it took nearly an hour to transfer the items from the van into the apartment.

“Are you going to help me put the table and bed together, Dad?”

“No, I need to return this van and get myself some dinner, I have an early start in the morning. There’s a tool kit somewhere and you should find instructions.”

“I’ve never done this before?”

“There’s a first time for everything, Tom.”

“True.”

“Look, if I get a chance to pop in before you go back to school, I will, otherwise I’ll see you at Easter?”

“Sure, Dad, thanks.”

-o-

Tammy woke on the Friday morning when her phone pinged with a text from her father.

“At Heathrow.”

“Have a good flight.”

The first deliveries were due that lunchtime but she’d only managed to put her single bed together the previous evening. This was going to be the spare bed but the larger bed for the main bedroom wasn’t due for a few days. She made breakfast, eating it on the new rug, then showered and dressed wearing the tartan skirt. Her limited wardrobe was becoming very apparent.

She set to work on the kitchen table, having a little difficulty when trying to tip it onto the legs. Next on the list were the four chairs so she could eat lunch at the table. The door intercom sounded a little after three.

“Oh, hello Miss, I have a delivery for a Mr Smart.”

“I’m his sister, he’s out right now.”

“No problem.”

That delivery brought some shelves and cabinets for the lounge, thankfully ready-made. Tammy asked the guys, nicely, if they wouldn’t mind lifting the TV onto a cabinet, once it was in position. She had a pair of £10 notes in her hand as she did.

“No worries, we got this.” They lifted it into position, connected the cables, powered it up to the set-up screen and left the remote in Tammy's hand. "Have fun."

Nothing else was expected and it was still light outside so Tammy took a decision to go in search of more clothes, with her phone directing her to the large Asda store the far side of Mudchute Park. She felt very conspicuous once in the store but no-one was paying any attention to her. Tammy aimed for the clothing section and soon had a weekend’s worth of changes in her trolley. It would have been so easy to have bought much much more but there had to be a sensible limit, given almost none of her new wardrobe would be going up to Scotland a week later.

There was another issue, the bedroom furniture wasn’t due to arrive until Tuesday and there was no point getting some really good stuff creased or dirtied if she couldn’t put it away? A suitcase would have to be sufficient for now.

-o-

Tammy had stopped ordering online after the first Saturday in the new year as there was no guarantee anything would arrive before she had to head North. When the bedroom furniture turned up it was all flat-packed, and there was no chance of persuading the delivery team to do the job for her; it took her the rest of that day just to build a chest of drawers, so at least most of her clothes could be put away.

Over the next few days she built the rest of the items, and finally had a king-size bed, but no bedding. That would have to wait for her next visit.

She tried her hand at cooking, using internet recipes, not always successfully. She also found that the smaller local Spar store was less intimidating than the Asda Superstore, and much more convenient for any cans, packets or fresh food.

By Friday lunchtime she’d built everything, had accepted the last delivery and had received a letter about a requiring TV Licence. She left that on the side, the place would be empty for the next three months.

-o-

He took the sleeper on Friday 10th January back into the Highlands of Scotland. Tammy, however, had been left in those wardrobes and only Tom had boarded the sleeper.

Tom met John Hibbert on the platform at Inverness as they waited for the two set diesel to arrive from Wick and Thurso.

"How was it, John?"

"Same as ever. A few arguments, no agreement on what to watch and someone burnt the potatoes on Christmas Day. What about you?"

"London, Brussels, Paris, Zurich, Geneva and Lausanne, again."

"That almost sounds like a song? Were you living the high life?"

"I was either working with Dad or being ignored by my mother. Oh, I'm on the payroll of my father's bank now."

"No more working for free?"

"I received expenses beforehand but yeah, salaried now. Look, have you had any thoughts about this Business Studies project?"

"Can't you use the bank?"

"No, too big and there's all that privacy and secrecy. It would take months to get the bank lawyers to agree anything in principle!"

"Oh, Mr Carmichael wants this sorted by April, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, but that includes the time to get authorisations, so we've really only until half-term to get the outline plan approved."

"Five weeks!"

"Exactly."

"You'll manage it somehow, Tom, you usually do."

"You're in the same boat! Anyway John, here's our train."

As Tom boarded the final train of his journey back to school he pondered that he only had another year and a half there and all he needed to do was to keep his head down and do the work. Hopefully it wasn't too much to ask for?
 
 
A new Preludes story "Tom's Project" is due out on Kindle in September 2022 and will be serialised here later in the year.
 
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The Preludes stories are also available as a part of Tammy Beginnings, Part 1 is out now

 
Part 2 now as well!

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Now ten more enhanced Tammyverse titles are also available on Amazon Kindle, plus four Unaccounted Gains books.

Latest Kindle releases
 

Unaccounted Gains Book 4	Tammyverse Book 10