“Jasmine, Jim, you’re safe now. We’re taking you home.”

The Omani had repeated the words, maybe expecting me to answer. I was still absorbing what he had said and, in any event, could not answer as I was still gagged. There was a quick conversation in Arabic which I found almost impossible to follow as it seemed quite different to that spoken by the girls at the brothel. The Omani passed the handcuff key back to the Lebanese man and he unlocked my hands. I had to pull my arms inside the big Afghan dress in order to move them up inside and pull the gag from my mouth. My first attempt to speak came out as a croak as my mouth was dry from being gagged, then I managed to speak.

"Who are you?"

"Just friends sent to find you."

"Who sent you?"

I was confused, afraid to be hopeful, suspicious, even paranoid. Could this be real? Could it be a trick? Why bother trying to trick me given that I was in their control, even with the handcuffs removed?

"We can't tell you much. We'll stop shortly at a house and change cars. Then we're driving to Alexandria and smuggling you onto a ship for Crete. We can't get you out past immigration as that would cause too many problems... like who are you, and who are we!"

I was starting to feel more relaxed, prepared to hope. The car drove on, turned off the highway and eventually stopped at a house in what appeared to be an affluent area. The houses were all individual units, with walls and gates. Once inside the gate closed behind the car and we pulled up at the front door. We went inside and the Lebanese man showed me where the bathroom was located. When I came out he was just leaving and I had time only for a hurried "thank you". He left in the Land Cruiser and we got into a dark coloured Mercedes and left shortly afterwards, me in the back.

"We're going to a linen supplier, and you'll be brought on board a cargo ship in a linen trolley. Stay hidden until you are contacted by Yiannis. He is the radio officer and will have arranged to hide you in one of the cabins used by occasional passengers".

The Omani was briefing me as we drove sedately along... no point in bringing our car to the attention of the police.

"What about the rest of the crew? Does the Captain know?"

"What you don't know, you can't say! You have to trust me on this." Obviously, things were being handled on a need to know basis!

We got to a small building in a commercial area, stopped and waited. A large van pulled alongside, and a man hopped out and, without speaking, opened one of the back doors. The Omani beckoned me to move and we got out of the car quickly and climbed into the back of the van. Inside were about six large basket-type wheeled trollies and it all smelled of cheap detergent. I climbed into one of baskets, as indicated by the driver and lay down on some laundry that was already there. He quickly covered me with some more and I heard some indistinct talk. Then I heard the Omani speaking in English.

"Just stay quiet, you'll be wheeled onto the ship and met as I described. Good luck!"

"Thanks" was about all I got to say before I heard the door closing and the van moved off.

The journey did not take long. I felt the van pull up, the trolley being wheeled down a ramp, across some ground and up a long incline. The smell of the detergent was overpowering and I had to stifle the urge to cough. Eventually the trolly stopped moving and footsteps faded away.

After about five minutes or so, time is impossible to tell in that circumstance, I heard some faint footsteps and someone climbing on the trolley. The covering laundry was pulled aside and I found myself looking at a middle-aged man with a moustache. He put his finger to his lips, whispered "Yiannis", and beckoned for me to follow him. I climbed out of the trolly and noticed that he was looking curiously at my legs and feet as I was clambering out. I looked down to see that I was showing a lot of bare leg and that my dancing skirt was visible under my Afghan dress as I got out. It looked all very confusing. He recovered his composure and again putting his finger to his lips, he beckoned me to follow. We went down a short corridor and climbed up one flight of metal stairs before arriving at a door which Yiannis unlocked. We stepped into a tiny cabin with two bunk beds, a small desk/dressing table with a mirror and a really narrow door leading to a toilet with a miniature washbasin. No shower. Yiannis opened a small locker and showed me a bottle of water along with a bag containing what appeared to be some bread rolls, cheese, cured meats, etc. Again, putting his finger to his lips, Yiannis left, and I noticed that he locked the door as he left.

Left alone, I was still trying to process what had happened. It could only be a few hours ago since I was being brought to the dance floor back in the brothel. Now I was either free, or in deeper trouble. What if the ship was not going to Crete? Was it going to the Gulf via Suez? Don’t be silly! Yiannis was definitely Greek, anyway, there must be easier ways to bring me to the Gulf if that was the plan.

It was very warm in the cabin; after all, a ship is just a big metal box and there did not appear to be any air-conditioning. I took off the big Afghan dress and lay down on the lower bunk. Then I realised that I did not have any clothes other than that dress and the dancing costume that I was still wearing. I kept the big dress ready to pull over me should Yiannis return. I tried to stop my mind racing and realised that I was very unlikely to see any of the girls, especially Mayda, again. I felt lonely: I had grown accustomed to their company.

I started to think of the future. I knew that I could not go back to living as a man. I didn’t want to, and couldn’t in any event having lost a rather essential attribute of maleness! But I couldn’t live in Ireland as a girl. 1980’s Ireland was very conservative, even homophobic. Maybe I could stay in Greece? I was getting to know the language and maybe could find work on yachts. Maybe Lisa or Maria could help me find work? How could I tell my family? Eventually I drifted off into a fitful sleep. When I woke up I could tell that the ship was underway.

Without daylight, time is very hard to track. I know now that the journey took two days. Yiannis called in three or four times with food and water, otherwise I was totally alone. To keep myself occupied, I danced to music playing in my head. It also tired me out and helped me to sleep. Dance, eat, sleep, fret, dance…. After what seemed like an incredibly long time, the ships motion and engine sounds changed and eventually ceased. I guessed that we had docked. Waiting now got even harder and I could feel my heard pounding. Then footsteps, a key in the door, I stood up, the door opened. Lisa!

I couldn’t speak. Lisa recovered before me and wrapped her arms around me. We stayed together in an embrace, both crying, hugging, neither able to speak. Yiannis coughed to get our attention; I hadn’t even seen him.

“Five minutes!”

“Give us ten”, Lisa answered. Yiannis nodded, closed the door and left. Lisa had a small bag with some clothes. I changed quickly, conscious that she was looking at me. She had been told to expect a different me, but seeing how I had changed was clearly still somewhat of a shock to her. I didn’t even think it strange that she had brought a denim mini, trainers and a vest top for me to wear. We didn’t have time to talk before Yannis returned. We bundled up the clothes that I had been wearing into the bag that Lisa had bought and followed him off the ship. We got into a small red Renault 5 that was parked on the quay and Lisa drove out through the security barrier. The guard simply lifted the barrier as we approached and lowered it behind us.

“Why didn’t he stop us?” I asked.

“Aristotle has everything sorted” Lisa responded.

“He organised to buy me out?”

“Yes; he was very upset when you disappeared and his Head of Security has been working to find you and get you back ever since”

Strangely, we didn’t talk much on the journey. We were probably both overwhelmed and later I learned that Lisa had been briefed not to question me. We drove through the grounds of a resort and arrived at a rather nice villa overlooking the sea. Lisa parked the car and looked over at me.

“One of Aristotle’s resorts; we have this place to ourselves for a few days. Well, not quite to ourselves. We have a visitor tomorrow.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s a shrink from Athens. She’s coming to help you get your head together after all that’s happened.”

“I don’t need a shrink; I haven’t lost my marbles…” the irony of what I’d just said dawned on me…

Lisa took my hand…

“She’s some kind of trauma specialist… she said that you needed to “decompress”…. maybe give her a chance and see if she’s any good?”

Lisa could always convince me…

“Is there a ‘phone here? I need to call my parents.”

“They’ve been told that you’re safe and will be in contact in a few days. You need time to decide what to tell them.”

“Huh?”

“They’ve been told that you were kidnapped for ransom… that you were mistaken as being a family member and that Aristotle was working to get you back. You can decide how much you will tell them when you’ve a chance to think it over… the shrink should help…”

We went inside. The place was not opulent, but was comfortable. Lisa brought me to a bedroom with an ensuite. She opened a closet; all my stuff from the boat was hanging neatly on the rails. There was also a few dresses, skirts and tops that I hadn’t seen before.

“I wasn’t sure what you would need”, Lisa was looking at me a little anxiously.

“That’s perfect”.

Again, we just fell into a hug, like when we’d met on the boat.

“I thought that I might never see you again” Lisa eventually whispered in my ear.

“Thinking of you kept me going!” I whispered back

Eventually Lisa left me to have a shower and dinner was brought over from the resort hotel. The wine knocked me out and I headed off to bed quite early. Lisa hesitated at the bedroom door. I took her hand and she relaxed, leaning her head against me.

“I wasn’t sure…”

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Following the meeting with Theodore, Helen had one final meeting with Lisa and me together. The purpose was to talk about how and what I would tell my family and how I planned to live going forward. It was obvious that Lisa was going to be part of my immediate future, hence her inclusion. I knew that I would never be comfortable discussing the details of my captivity with my family but I would need to let them know that I was not going to be able to go back to my former life. It was now well into November and I had missed my college place for this year, which gave me a year to sort out my family and life. Lisa’s place on the yacht had been taken up by a Greek lady who normally worked in one of Aristotle’s resorts. When the resort reopened for Easter she would return to her normal job and Lisa had the option of returning to the yacht. This gave her a few months of freedom as well.

I didn’t want to revert to living as a male. My experiences over the last five months had changed me forever, maybe even liberated me, but a transgender life was a very daunting prospect, especially in 1980’s Ireland. Actually, I judged that it would be impossible there and I would at least need to move to London. I had the option of going to college there, working part-time, or staying in Greece or somewhere in the Mediterranean working to get the money to complete my transition. I barely knew of the possibility of GRS (we called it a sex-change back then) and Helen was able to illuminate me somewhat in this regard.

Eventually a plan developed. Lisa would travel back to Ireland with me and we would first talk to my sister who was working in Dublin. We would get my parents to meet me in Dublin; I did not want to have to stay in our house down country if the meeting did not go well. We would decide when to introduce Lisa to my parents after we spoke to my sister. We would have time to check out the possibility of college places in London and decide on our immediate futures before Lisa was due back on the yacht, if that’s what she decided to do. Helen summed up at the end, as if summing up a business meeting, listing action points, decisions to be made, and timeframes. She reminded me that I was to call to the doctor in Athens on my way back to Ireland, left us the only copy of her notes, hugged us both and left.

Lisa left me alone as I called my parents’ house. My mother answered, I could barely speak, she cried. I worked through the conversation points Helen had left me, I was safe, I am being well looked after, I am coming home soon, no point in anyone flying out to meet me as I’m starting for home soon, etc. Eventually, when the phone call ended I felt terrible. My mother thought that the problems were over; I feared that, from her perspective, they were probably just beginning.

Like when stressed on the ship, I started to dance, to music in my head. After a few minutes I realised that Lisa was watching me. I stopped, a little embarrassed…

“Don’t stop; it’s lovely…”

“Sorry, I can’t keep going… my “head music” has stopped…”

“Can you teach me?”

“Of course, but I’ll need a music tape and a getto blaster!”

Lisa made arrangements to fly to Athens and booked accommodation there for a week. We would have a few jobs to do there, and I was in no rush back to a meeting that I was somewhat dreading. As this was an internal flight, we would not need passports, therefore I would travel as a girl. We had both forgotten about airport security which involved a “booth” pat down in Greece at that time. I got through it by millimetres as the Greek security lady ran her hands up my inside thigh under my skirt but didn’t discover anything, or at least ignored it if she did. The flight was uneventful and we arrived at our modest hotel to find a message from Sophie, Aristotle’s daughter: Could we meet her for dinner that night? We had no other plans so Lisa called from our bedroom phone to make the arrangements.

We strolled to the restaurant which was only about a kilometre’s walk from our hotel, arm in arm, but attracting no attention. Of course not; girls do this! But if it had been two lads in Dublin it would be quite a different story. I was still learning how to behave as a girl; whereas I had started off five months ago, most of the intervening period had been spent in captivity, so my learning was necessarily limited.

Sophie greeted us warmly when we arrived, and immediately corrected me when I called her “Ma’am”. We talked a little about what had happened, without going into details, and then Sophie turned the conversation to the future. She wondered whether I would ever regret my decision to live as a girl, what would my family say? We talked a little about the decision we would have to make (decision making had now become “We”) and our timeline, then Sophie dropped a bombshell. If I was still convinced about my future at the end of January, she would fund GRS (to use the modern parlance) in Singapore. Lisa and I were speechless. I tried to blurt out a thanks but she leaned forward, laid a hand on mine, told me that I had been very good to her when she had been in a bad place on the Yacht, and that it was the least she could do. Besides, what’s the use in having money if one can’t spend it to make people happy?

Sophie left shortly afterwards and Lisa and I walked back to the hotel. Life was looking up.

The following day we visited a travel agent to book a flight back to Ireland. Then we contacted the Yacht’s shore office to collect my salary for my month on board. They paid me from when I arrived on board to the day we were scheduled to leave Athens, and my completion bonus – Aristotle’s orders they said. And the Yacht was in Piraeus… could they make an arrangement for us to visit?

The following morning I visited the doctor in Athens that had supplied Helen with the prescription. Lisa dropped me off and we arranged for her to pick me up at noon, then we would head to the Yacht to say Hello and Goodbye to our friends and erstwhile sailing companions. The visit to the doctor went well. He did a battery of tests, mainly to see how my body was tolerating the lack of testosterone and my regime of oestrogen. He surprised me by remarking that “they” had done a very “neat job” in removing my testicles and examined my booblets a little more than I was comfortable with. Other than slightly elevated blood-pressure, whether caused by the oestrogen or by recent stresses, I was fine. He advised me to keep a good eye on my blood pressure and to visit a doctor in Ireland(!). He also gave me a prescription for a year’s supply of oestrogen and recommended the pharmacy two doors away. I dropped the prescription there and arranged to collect the drugs in two days.

Lisa picked me up and we headed to the Yacht. I felt a pang of regret that I had to leave it as I walked up the stern gangplank, then I was mobbed, kissed, hugged, cried over, and eventually brought to the bridge. Chef came up from the galley with some canapes and even he kissed me on both cheeks. Then after the initial excitement, there was not a lot to say. They would never understand what I had gone through and I would not want to have to tell them. So we chatted about what visitors they had had on board, they recounted anecdotes of guests making fools of themselves and eventually it was time to leave. We said our good byes to everyone in turn, genuinely sad at leaving. George was the last person I spoke to.

“Maybe you would be interested in training as a Skipper some day? You picked things up fast and helmed well on a bad day.”

“Thanks, but is the world ready for a female skipper?”

“Why not? I hear they even let you girls vote now!” He kissed me on the cheek and Lisa and I headed down the gangplank.

“That was interesting. Would you do it?” Lisa had overheard my conversation with George.

“I’d love to, but I’m not sure how it would work out. It’s an option at least.”

We drove back to the hotel, Lisa parked the hire car and took a big box from the boot. She was grinning from ear to ear… she had bought a getto blaster.

“And I got some tapes… so now you have to teach me”

*********************************************************************************************************************************

“I want to leave a letter for Aristotle.”

We were taking a break. Lisa needed it. Dancing, and the exercises needed to underpin it, was actually quite hard work in the early stages. It would take a lot of practice for her to get the fluidity and grace that the best dancers possessed. Eventually, I was sure, she would overtake me, as her hips were better suited to dancing than mine would ever be. I had developed some weight on my tail, but hips are defined by bone structure.

“If you want to write it, we can drop it off at the shore office. They will forward it to him.”

“OK, back to work!”

We did another 30 minutes, then called it a day. Having eaten canapes on the Yacht, we both had a light dinner and slipped into bed. The following morning I wrote my letter and we dropped it off at the shore office. We had a few more lazy days around Athens, then got ready for the flight to Ireland.

And it took some time! I now had to try to make myself look male, as defined by my passport. No makeup, hair in a ponytail. Rings off nipples, ears, bellybutton, fingers. My male clothes which I had brought from Ireland in Summer felt strange, and would not be suited for an Irish November. Not wanting to spend money on male clothes, we went to an Army surplus store and bought a quilted jacket. I carried my girl clothes in my carry-on bag and two very big cases went into the hold (no real weight restrictions back then!). The idea was to pass through immigration as a male, and change in the restrooms whilst waiting for the bags to come through. I was booked into the hotel as Jasmine and needed to arrive as her, actually as me.

It all went fine, albeit I felt that I was now passing myself off as someone that I wasn’t. We arrived at the hotel, frozen and wet and went straight into bed to warm each other up. We had eaten on the ‘plane (yes – they fed you on the flight then as well) so braved the elements only to pick up some fish and chips for supper. The following morning I called my sister before she went to work. I had intended to meet her after work but she wouldn’t wait. She called in sick and came immediately to the hotel.

We had decided to meet her in the lobby and were sitting there when she arrived. She looked around, and not seeing me, sat down to wait. Lisa went over…

“Excuse me, you’re waiting for Jim?”

“Yes”, she looked puzzled. Who was this girl with an English accent?

“Can I introduce to Jasmine?”, Lisa motioned for my sister to follow her.

I stood up. She didn’t recognise me at first, long hair cut as a girl’s, make up, earrings, light blue turtleneck jumper, blue denim mini, heavy blue tights and long brown boots. Politely she held out her hand then slowly recognition dawned. She hugged me then sat down in an armchair beside us, waiting for an explanation.

I explained that I hadn’t been kidnapped for ransom, but had been rescued before any real harm befell me. I didn’t dwell on it too much as I simply wasn’t comfortable sharing too much detail with her. I did explain that I could not go back to being a man. She didn’t understand so Lisa leaned over and whispered in her ear. She looked shocked, then puzzled again as she looked first at me, then Lisa.

“Yes, I’m her girlfriend” Lisa said. “We were a couple on the Yacht before she was kidnapped and now we’re back together again”.

She didn’t quite understand as the concept of Lesbianism was alien to the general Irish culture at the time. It’s not that they didn’t exist, but much like my initial supressed desire to wear skirts, the majority simply supressed their desires and conformed. I learned later that my sister was more comfortable with me being with a girl rather than with a man.

We had lunch in the hotel. For many, if not most, of the population, this was the main meal of the day and often referred to as “dinner”. We shared a bottle of a sweetish German white wine, if anything worse than the meal. Ireland in the early 1980’s was not known for its cuisine. With the weather foul outside, we headed for the hotel bar and nursed glasses of Guiness. Again, women did not drink pints back then. We agreed that my sister would tell my parents what to expect otherwise there was no way to tell how they would react. In the meantime, I was not to call them.

Still off sick (no Doctor’s certificate needed for the first three days) my sister headed home on the train intending to overnight and return the following day with my parents. We all met the following day in the hotel. This time we had hired a small meeting room in order to have a bit more privacy; we had learned from meeting my sister that the lobby was not a good idea! The meeting was awkward. They were relieved that I was safe, and now had some idea what from. They were also unhappy that their son was now becoming another daughter. They were very fearful for my safety and future.

Lisa had stayed away for the first hour. I called our room and she joined us. It helped that my parents both seemed to like her. We talked about the future. I couldn’t go home; I would simply not be accepted, and probably not safe. Lisa couldn’t go home either; she had not repaired the relationship with her own parents yet. We couldn’t really afford to stay living in hotels, either in Ireland or London. Our general plan was to try to rent in London, posing as cousins (our different accents precluded our posing as sisters) and get some work to tide us over. We would need to spend some time in Ireland as I had some matters to sort out such as college grants.

We had lunch/dinner in the hotel, skipped the wine as it would seem rather extravagant to my parents and was not worth drinking in any event. My parents drove off shortly after lunch, dropping my sister back to her flat, and we agreed to meet the following Sunday for lunch at my parents’ house. They would pick me up from the train one stop away from my hometown so as not to be recognised. I was relieved that our meeting had gone as well as it could have. Lisa was thoughtful; she was thinking about her own difficulties with her parents… maybe time to try to resolve these?

Life was going to be rather complicated in our new world.