Peter and Katie Marriott are returning to the UK after a lifetime abroad. The brother and sister are simply acting on their father’s directions. He has a plan, intending to join them a little later, but they have to fulfil certain obligations prior to his return.

Whilst at an airport hotel, the pair become entangled with a shady character who is intent on seizing the assets of a beautiful but somewhat scatty heiress, Letty Greyson. Using quick wits and dubious skills, they manage to rescue the girl and return her to the bosom of her family.

However, the attractive Katie and handsome Peter are not quite what they appear.........

 
 
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

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Author's Introduction:
When considerably younger, I read and thoroughly enjoyed the many works of Georgette Heyer. A completely new and colourful world of Regency Romance opened up to me, and I found the whole range of books delightful in the extreme.

One book, The MASQUERADERS, was to become my favourite, dealing with issues with which I could readily identify. It had everything one could want in a book: - Wonderful characters, beautiful women, handsome heroes, nasty villains, duels by moonlight, deception, love and romance, highwaymen, heroic deeds and horse-back rides across open countryside. Good triumphed over evil, and true love prevailed.

It also had a hero who spent most of the book dressed as a beautiful woman, and a heroine who appeared as a man.

I have planned for a long time to modernise the story, using those wonderful characters that Georgette introduced to me then. Now I feel I am in a position to fulfil that ambition, and if this turns out half as good as the original, then I will be well pleased.

I make no apology for lifting the book from the eighteenth century and plonking it into the twenty-first. I am probably breaching all manner of copyright laws, but I state now that although the opening of the story is based on that great book, by the very nature of the world we find ourselves, my story will be different, save some of the names and the fact that it takes part in London. Anyone who has read the original work will be able to see where I am going to end up, but hopefully not the direction I intend to take to get there.

My thanks to those who helped me edit, but mainly my thanks to the late great Georgette Heyer for being such an inspiration.
 
 
Tanya Allan
 
Originally written in 2005, revised in 2008.
 
The Legal Stuff: Modern Masquerade  ©2005, 2008 Tanya Allan

This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
 
Chapter 1 - A Damsel in Distress
 
 
Grace Lumsden simply adored aeroplanes. At eighty-six, she’d only been flying for the last seven years. Her husband, Harold, had passed away before they could fly to New Zealand to visit their married grand daughter.

Grace had seen Harold buried, and then flown out on her own. She had been hooked by the travel bug, so now was spending her children’s inheritance by flying abroad at least six times a year. With family and friends in Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and North America, she was making up for lost time, aware, no doubt, that her remaining time was somewhat limited.

This trip was insignificant compared to many she’d undertaken, as Paris was a simple hop, skip and jump for her. The Woking Ladies French Circle visited the French Capital every year in the spring, spending two nights at a small hotel, and enjoying the galleries and cafés before flying home again.

Grace was watching London grow as the Airbus approached Heathrow from the East. She pointed out the landmarks to the young woman sitting next to her.

“There’s the Dome, Tower Bridge, The Tower, HMS Belfast, and there’s a tall ship on the river, don’t they look small from up here?”

“Yes, don’t they?” the girl said, smiling patiently.

She was a pretty girl in her early twenties. Long fair hair, falling in cascades down across her shoulders, accentuated her fine slender figure. Wearing a chic burgundy skirt, pale silk blouse, with matching jacket from one of the finest French designers, the girl exuded charm, breeding and a fair degree of wealth.

At first, due to her colouring, Grace believed the girl to be foreign, from Scandinavia or northern Europe. However, she dispelled this as soon as she spoke, for her precise Queens English accent reminded Grace of the late Princess Diana. The two gold rings she wore on her right hand contained substantial stones, one with amethysts and the other blue sapphires, which matched her eyes. She wore a single gold signet ring on the little finger of her left hand, on which a family crest had been engraved. The diamonds and sapphires in her earrings glinted, as she swept her hair away from her face with beautiful slender hands, with long varnished nails.

“Do you fly often?” Grace asked.

“Mmm, quite a lot.”

“I do love it. I quite forget how old I’m meant to be,” Grace said, smiling like a little girl.

“My father keeps us busy. We’ve lived abroad for most of our lives. In fact I was born in South America,” the girl said.

“We?”

“My brother, Peter, and I. Our father has travelled quite a bit on business, so we’ve never really been anywhere very long.” She inclined her head to a young man sitting on the aisle seat next to her. He had his eyes closed, and Grace assumed he was dozing.

He was a good-looking young man, clean-shaven with darker hair than his sister. It was cut quite short, yet he looked much the same age as his sister, was a few inches taller, and seemed generally more substantial than the slender girl.

“Is your father with you?”

“No, he’s still in the Far East, Japan, I think. He’s concluding some business, and hopes to join us in a few weeks after travelling through to Switzerland.”

“Gosh, what a lot of travelling. But what about your poor mother?”

“Mummy died when I was born. Peter is a couple of years older than I, so we never knew her.”

“But, you went to school here?”

“No. Papa believed we should receive whatever education was available wherever we happened to be. He taught us a lot, but probably not what the powers that be would approve of. I don’t think we’ve done too badly, I can speak more than six languages and don’t feel I’ve missed out.”

“You are British, though, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, but this is my first time here.”

“Oh, you poor dear.”

The girl smiled. It was a lovely smile, reminding Grace of her own grand daughter. A pretty girl’s smile could lighten up a room, and this girl was just like that, as she was transformed into a beauty when she smiled.

“Have you a boyfriend?”

This time the girl chuckled.

“No, not at the moment. I’m Katie, Katie Marriott.”

As the plane began to come in to land, Grace and Katie shook hands.

“This is the bit I love!” Grace said, squashing her nose up against the Perspex of the window.

Katie smiled and glanced at her brother, who opened one eye and smiled at her.

“You are so patient,” he said, quietly.

She simply stuck her tongue out at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, both eyes open, and an expression of mild concern on his face.

“Yes, but I’ll be glad when this is all over.”

“You and me, both! But, he says we have to do it this way.”

“I know, but he doesn’t have to do it, does he?”

Peter smiled, glancing up the aisle.

“The papers are okay, aren’t they?” she asked, a frown creasing her brow.

Peter shrugged.

“If they’re not, we’ll soon find out, the hard way.”

The plane was on the ground, and the purser was welcoming everyone to Heathrow, telling them how cold and wet it was, which anyone with eyes could see for themselves. April could be a delightful month, or it could be shitty. At the moment it was the latter. Katie looked past Grace’s grey hair to the grey and drab outside world. Rain lashed the window, and visibility was poor.

What she’d told Grace was true, she’d never been to England before, now silently hoping that she might finally find a home here. Peter had been quite young when their parents had left the UK, so even he couldn’t remember anything about the land of his birth.

Grace looked so please as she unstuck her face from the window.

“There! That was wonderful. They are so clever the way they land these things. Tell me, my dear, have you far to go?”

“We are staying with friends in London, but they are away until tomorrow. We’re booked into a hotel here at the airport for tonight. We’ve been travelling for nearly thirty hours, so we felt it was wiser just to have a rest and travel into London tomorrow after the rush hour.”

“I live in Woking. That’s in Surrey.”

“Oh, so not far.”

“No, my son will be waiting for me. He’s a chartered accountant!”

Katie smiled, watching the other passengers become restless as the plane taxied to the gate-room. The plane almost taxied for a longer period than it had just flown, but much to everyone’s relief, it finally reached the gate-room and the extended gantry was attached to the front door.

It was the signal for everyone to stand up at the same time, scrabbling for personal effects and hand luggage. Grace was interested to note that the attractive young couple simply sat and waited for the rush to subside. This was the mark of a seasoned traveller, as there was little point in rushing simply to wait at the carousel for one’s bags.

They watched as most passengers were now standing, belaboured with their holdalls and other bags, waiting impatiently for those at the front to leave. Grace turned to Katie.

“This bit is such a scrum. It is my least favourite bit. I have to wait to last, as they provide a wheelchair for me. My hip, you know.”

Katie smiled, saying nothing.

At last the aisle cleared, and Peter stood, removing two matching holdalls from the overhead locker. Passing a smart leather coat to his sister, he asked Grace if she had a bag he could retrieve for her.

“No thank you, dear. I find it so much easier without bags. I just have my duty free gin!” she said holding up a carrier bag containing a litre bottle of Gordon’s gin.

Katie stood up, folded her coat over her arm and slung her black leather Gucci bag over her shoulder. They preceded Grace out of the plane, noticing the man from Passenger Assistance with the wheelchair by the door. They walked slowly up the gantry and along the terminal corridor towards the Immigration hall.

“This is it, girl,” Peter said softly.

“Mmm, nervous?”

“Of course, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been shitting myself since Paris. This is mad, we ought to have our heads examined; it’ll never work.”

“It has to work. Daddy’s plans depend on it.”

“Daddy’s an arse sometimes. There has to be a better way,” the girl said, with some feeling.

“If there is he’d have done it.”

“Yeah,” she said, entirely unconvinced.

Katie’s high-heeled boots made a clacking sound on the lino floor, and as Grace was pushed behind them, the older woman admired the girl’s trim figure and fine legs. Oh, to be that young and attractive again, she thought, wistfully.

They reached the Immigration Hall and lined up with the other EU Nationals. As it was a Paris flight, most were in this line, with a smattering of other, Non-EU Nationals in the other lines. They waited patiently. Two Immigration officers were on the two sides of the channel, and as Katie and Peter approached with their British passports open, the officers hardly glanced at them. Katie was through first, joined shortly after by Peter.

She let out a long breath, and then they moved off towards Baggage Reclaim.

“Shit, that was easy,” she said.

“They didn’t even look at the bloody things.”

“Just as well, really, isn’t it?”

Peter simply nodded, smiling. They both relaxed visibly as they joined the other passengers in the baggage hall. They last saw Grace as they were getting onto the Hilton Hotel shuttle bus. She was being helped into the front seat of a big grey Mercedes.

“She’s a sweet old thing,” Katie said.

“You in a few years?” her brother said, with his rich chuckle.

“Yeah, right!” she said, elbowing him in the ribs.

The Hilton is situated on the south side of the Airport, adjacent to Terminal Four. It is a large V shaped modern structure, with the rooms on the arms of the V and a vast glass wall closing the gap. A pool is at ground level on the inner side of the glass, with a pond with fountain on the outside of the glass giving the impression of one piece of water.

A stream of water trickled through the dining areas that were housed between the arms, creating a novel and pleasant atmosphere.

On checking in, they found their rooms reserved, and were given card keys for the doors.

“Enjoy your stay,” the disinterested young receptionist said, as she was already looking at the next guest.

“What do you want to do first, food, shower or sleep?” Peter asked.

“I don’t want to sleep yet, it’s only nine o’clock. A shower sounds good, but perhaps a bite to eat first.”

They went to the restaurant and ordered an expensive meal that was adequate, but hardly good value. However, they didn’t care, as the Gold MasterCard their father had given them seemed to work without causing security alerts. They sat, sipping their glasses of a Cote du Rhone.

Peter looked tired, and Katie knew what pressure he was under. As the elder sibling, he felt responsible.

“Not much longer,” she said.

He laughed, shortly and with little humour.

“He’s been saying that for years. I’m tired, really tired. I just want to get back to normal.”

“What’s normal? I don’t think I know what I want anymore.”

They shared the same weary smile, but were distracted by a couple arguing at the next table.

“I won’t, and you can’t make me!” the girl said.

“You bloody well will! You know what’ll happen if you don’t?”

“You bastard, you utter bastard!” the girl said, and then bowed her head, obviously crying.

Katie glanced at her brother, and they watched as the tall, beefy looking man stood, grabbing the girl’s arm, pulled her off towards the lift.

She was a petite, pretty, dark haired girl, a shade over five foot two, looking very young, not much out of her teens. She was dressed in jeans and a pale pink top. Her long dark hair framed her pale, heart-shaped face, and her big brown eyes were somewhat swollen and red due to the tears.

Peter saw the expression on Katie’s face.

“No, Katie. Not this time, please.”

Katie looked sharply at him.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I know that look, you can never resist poking your nose in business where a pretty girl is involved.”

She smiled a wicked little smile.

“I hate to see bullies take advantage of us weak and helpless females,” she said

“Hmm, yeah right!” replied her brother, but saw, with some alarm, that Katie was already heading for the lift.

“Shit!” he said, racing after her.

They shared the lift with the couple. The girl, silently sobbing, her head still bowed, while the man held her arm just above the elbow. His expression was one of arrogant complacency, and Peter noted the two white spots on his sister’s cheeks. Katie was angry, and he dreaded to think what was going to happen next.

Katie turned to the miserable girl.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

The girl looked up, surprise and hope flashed in her eyes.

“She’s fine, so fuck off, mind your own business,” the man said.

Katie looked as if she was about to hit the man. Peter almost reached out to restrain her, but as she drew back slightly against the door, he relaxed.

The lift stopped and the door opened. Katie deliberately brushed against the man as he passed her. Then they were gone and the door closed again.

“What are you trying to do?” Peter asked.

Katie smiled, holding up the man’s wallet.

“I’m not trying to do anything, I succeeded.”

“Katie, you’ll screw up everything. What did you want to go and do that for?”

“Katie said nothing, simply removing something from her bag and placing it in the wallet.

She read some of the documents and plastic in the wallet.

“Howard Markham, and he comes from a place called Chigwell in Essex.”

“What are you doing?”

“Evening the odds.”

“Katie, we can’t afford to get involved, you know that. There’s too much at stake.”

“What’s at stake? He hasn’t told us anything, not a fucking sausage. He commands this and that, and we leap about like trained poodles, but why, dear brother, why? For once in my life I’m doing something I want to do, and screw him.”

“Remember Thailand, last year?”

“That was different,” Katie replied defensively.

“Was it?”

“Yes. Well, sort of.”

Peter looked at the wallet.

“Okay, you’ve started. What’s the plan?” he asked.

Katie grinned and told him.
 
 
Chapter 2 - Arrival of the Large Gentleman
 
 
Howard Markham was tense. It wasn’t going to plan at all. The stupid bint was having a touch of the seconds, so he’d had to use a little pressure to convince her of the wisdom of not defying him.

He was a big man, now thirty years old, and determined to be a millionaire before he was forty. If this plan succeeded, he would achieve his ambition before his next birthday. If it failed, he shuddered, as he didn’t want to think about that.

The son of a self-made man, George Markham, he’d watched powerless, as alcohol and gambling reduced both his father and the fortune to nothing in a matter of a few short years. Now, bitter and determined, Howard thought he’d found the perfect plan.

Letty had gone along with it, up until a few hours ago. So, in a moment of weakness, he’d told her about the letter. He knew now that it had been a mistake, but he so wanted this to work, it was the only lever he had. She’d suddenly seen him for what he was, an opportunist.

“You don’t love me at all, do you? All you want is the money!”

He had tried to profess undying love, but he hadn’t fooled her.

Then he told her about the letter.

She was stuck, so he knew that he still had a chance. He’d rather she still felt some attraction for him, as it made marriage so much easier, but it was an irrelevant incidental in his plan.

Now she lay sobbing on one of the twin beds in their room. He stood staring out of the window, at the grey rooftops of Hounslow. He was also angry with the girl in the lift. He knew it was his fault, as he didn’t want to make a spectacle of their leaving the country, but she should have minded her own business.

A knock came on the door. He walked over and opened it. A young woman in hotel uniform stood there, with two police officers in uniform.

“Yes?”

“Mr Markham?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

One of the officers stepped forward. Howard observed both officers were carrying pistols in holsters; it was unusual for the UK, but not the Airport.

“Is this your wallet, sir?” the officer asked, holding up a black leather wallet.

Howard’s left hand went to his inside jacket pocket.

“Yes, shit, I never knew it was missing. Where did you find it?”

“It was handed into the reception. A waiter found it in the dining area. How much money was in it?”

“About a hundred and fifty quid and five hundred dollars, plus all my cards, why, has it been stolen?”

“It’s all there, sir. So we can rule out theft.”

“Thank you. I’m very grateful. But, I have to confess, I’m a little baffled as to why it takes two officers to return it to me.”

“Sir, we aren’t returning it. I’m arresting you for possession of a stolen credit card. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

Howard felt an icy finger of fear creep up his chest.

“What? This is ridiculous, what stolen credit card?”

“Sir, I do not propose to ask you questions at this time,” the first officer said, as the second PC applied quick-cuffs to the protesting and very surprised man.

Letty Greyson stared in undisguised disbelief and relief, as Howard Markham was pulled from the room. Still sitting on the bed, she became aware of a friendly voice.

“Hi, it seems you’ve a spot of trouble. Can we help?”

Letty looked at the doorway, seeing the attractive blonde girl from the lift. She was smiling and looking so sympathetic that it was all became much for the poor girl. She hugged Katie, sobbing her heart out. Peter rolled his eyes as Katie smiled at him over Letty’s shoulders.

It took a few minutes for her to regain some semblance of control. Peter handed her a glass of water, and she sat with Katie, with the latter’s arm around her waist.

“My name is Letty Greyson. What’s happened?” she asked.

Peter and Katie exchanged glances.

“Hello Letty, I’m Peter Marriott and this is my sister Katie. Katie hates to see girls being bullied, so she came up with a plan. When he was so rude to her in the lift, she happened to, um, acquire the man’s wallet. I had this credit card, I have to say not in my real name, so I reported it stolen, and we wiped it clean, placing it in your nasty man’s wallet.

“We then left it on the floor in the Dining room, close to the table you had been sitting at. Conveniently a waiter found it and handed it in. An anonymous call to the police about a stolen card alerted the local police to the possibility, and the rest is history. I doubt they’ll keep him for very long, but it’ll give us time to spirit you away at least.”

Letty’s eyes went as round and as big as saucers.

“You picked his pocket?” she gasped with delight at Katie, who grinned.

“How clever! But, I’m in a real pickle. I thought he loved me, and I him, but he just wanted my money. You see, I’ve been left millions in trust until I’m twenty-one, and that’s a few months away. If I’m married, then my husband automatically becomes a trustee. My grandfather had some really old fashioned ideas about women and money.”

“You have my sympathy. Our father is somewhat eccentric as well,” said Peter.

“Howard was so different. He changed as soon as I said I thought it better to wait. He has this letter which he says will be enough to have Daddy arrested and sent to prison, and if I didn’t marry him, he’d send it to the newspapers and the police.”

“Have you seen this letter?” Katie asked.

“No, why?”

“The chances are he’s bluffing. However, you can’t be blamed for returning to your family now, can you?”

“I can’t go back, Daddy’ll kill me!”

“I doubt that. You’ll find that fathers may bluster a bit, but if he loves you, he’ll forgive you and welcome you with open arms,” said Katie.

“Hmm,” said Letty, unconvinced.

“Do you know what was in the letter?” Peter asked.

“No, only it was about something called ‘insider dealings’. I don’t even know what that means, do you?”

“What does your father do?”

“He’s a businessman. I don’t really know what he does. He goes to lots of board meetings and stuff.”

Peter tried to explain.

“Insider dealings related to the business of trading stocks and shares. If, as a company officer, one has inside knowledge about either a product or a company that will affect the value of that company’s stocks or shares, and one uses that information to the benefit of oneself or another, or to the detriment of others, then one can be accused of insider dealing.

“For example, if one know that a wonderful new product that a company is about to launch isn’t so wonderful, and one sells one’s shares before the company collapses. Or one knows that the company has had a takeover offer that would increase the value of the shares, and one buys loads at a lower rate, these are insider dealings.”

“Oh, is it illegal?”

“That’s a grey area. Some are, yes, but most of it is irregular at best, and corrupt at worst.”

Letty frowned.

“I don’t know. I’d hate for Daddy to get into trouble.”

“If he’s been naughty, that’s his problem. But for Markham to blackmail you, then you should let the police handle it.”

“I couldn’t!”

“We need to get you out of here. If the police don’t hold him, he could be back very soon,” Katie said.

“Where can I go?”

“In the meantime, I have a spare bed in my room, why don’t you share with me?” Katie suggested.

Peter snorted, coughing violently.

Katie looked daggers at her brother, who went into the bathroom to get some water.

“May I? This is so good of you,” Letty said.

When Peter returned, he found Letty and his sister packing up Letty’s case, on the point of vacating the room. A nervous looking assistant manager was hovering in the doorway.

Peter explained that Mr Markham was liable for the bill. The girl had been brought against her will, and he suggested that the hotel debit Mr Markham’s credit card just in case he decamped.

They then took the girl up one floor to Katie’s room. It was now nearly ten thirty and Katie had yet to have that shower she’d craved.

“Could you call someone for me?” Letty asked.

“Of course, who?”

“My cousin, Tony Fanshaw. He lives not far from here, and I know Daddy would feel happier if I was with him.”

She gave Peter the number, and Peter called it. He briefly outlined the problem, and found himself talking into a dead phone.

He smiled.

“Your gallant cousin is on way, I believe. He hardly let me finish explaining.”

“Oh, Tony is such a sweet guy.”

“Then what are you doing with the odious Mr Markham?” Katie asked.

Letty sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’m a fool, I suppose. He was so, sort of, strong and in control. He was so confident and charming, I fell for it all. Still, I’m worried about the letter.”

“I should tell your father all about it. I don’t imagine there’s much of a real threat, otherwise, Markham would have tried to blackmail him, instead of you. He was depending on your innocence to work in his favour.” Katie said.

“You’re so wise, Katie. How old are you?”

Katie reddened, while Peter had another coughing fit.

“I’m twenty three, but I’ve been around a bit.”

“And some!” added Peter, sotto voce.

“Peter, shut up!”

Peter sniggered.

“You’re no angel,” his sister said.

“True, pax?”

“Pax.”

“I wish I had a brother like you,” said Letty.

“No you don’t, girl, he’s odious,” said Katie, smiling broadly.

“Hmm, she shows good taste. At least I’m not impetuous and foolhardy.”

“I’m decisive and brave,” Katie replied.

“Yeah, right!”

Letty was now calmer and felt so secure with this young couple. She’d only known them for a short time, yet she felt they were true friends.

She shared some more about her predicament and about her life as an only daughter and heiress to a vast fortune. Educated at the best schools, and yet not desperately academic, she hoped to get a job as a journalist, having a HND in the Media and Journalism.

“Daddy wants me to find a respectable man and get married. But what kind of life is that? I want to travel the world and see all those places before I get too old to appreciate them.”

“You could find the right man and do it with him,” suggested Katie.

“Yeah, as if I’ll ever find the right man. I’m so stupid when it comes to men. I always fall for the wrong one.”

“You never know, one might come along and sweep you off your feet!”

“Oh, Katie, I hope so. My problem is that I’m too romantic, and I don’t think there are any romantic men left.”

“There might be one for you,” Katie said with a smile.

There was a knock on the door. Peter went and opened it.

“Tony!” said Letty, clearly pleased to see the man who stood in the doorway, filling it very capably.

Tony Fanshaw was six foot five. Having rowed for Oxford, boxed at Sandhurst and played rugby for the Army against the other services, he was broad, lean and looked very strong.

His slightly battered face actually improved his looks, giving him a dashing air. Dressed in brown cords, brogues, a check shirt and a tweed jacket, he was the very epitome of the English Country gentleman, accentuated by his unruly sandy hair. He sported a faintly bored expression of mild amusement.

“Hello Letty, what the hell have you got yourself into now?”

Letty then spoke for ten minutes without breathing. She exaggerated the whole affair beyond recognition, and Katie’s part was elevated to the mastermind of a daring espionage ring.

“It seems the family are indebted to you, Miss Marriott,” he said.

“Please call me Katie. It’s nothing, I enjoyed it, as he was a class one shit.”

“My sister has a thing about men bullying girls. It’s a woman thing,” Peter said.

“I’m Tony Fanshaw, in case she neglected to tell you. I have a farm out in Buckinghamshire.”

“Peter Marriott and my impetuous sister, Katie.”

Tony shook hands with the pair.

“Jolly good. I’m happy you came along; otherwise, I hate to think what would have become of her. Letty, you’re an arse.”

“I know, Tony, I’m sorry.”

“I called your father, by the way. I ought to call him again to tell him you’re safe.”

Letty made a face.

“Must you?”

“Yes, I must. Unless you want to do it?”

“No thanks, you can.”

Tony walked to the bedside phone and spoke briefly to Letty’s father. He replaced the receiver and turned to Letty.

“I’m to take you home. He’s not happy, Letty.”

“Duh, tell me something I don’t know.”

Tony turned to Peter.

“I can’t thank you enough. If you’re in town, drop in on Charles Greyson; I’m sure he’ll love to see you. I have a small pad in Chelsea that I stay at from time to time. If you want, come and spend some time with the chaps and me. I used to be a donkey wallopper, so am a member of the Cavalry Club.” He handed Peter a card.

“Donkey Wallopper?”

“Sorry, Household Cavalry. I was Blues and Royals before the amalgamation. Short service commission only, but it was jolly good fun.”

“I’d like that, thanks Tony.”

Letty gave Katie a huge hug and kissed Peter goodbye, obediently following her enormous cousin out of the hotel.

“Thank God for that,” said Katie, heading for the shower.
 
 
Chapter 3 - Things Aren’t What You Thought
 
 
A short while later Peter knocked on his sister’s door.

She opened it.

She was engulfed in a vast white towelling dressing gown, with her wet hair wrapped in a turban of towel. Even in a towel she looked attractive.

She went and sat at the dressing table, using the drier on her hair, while Peter entered, shutting the door. He sat on her bed, watching her in the mirror.

“So, does the little dark beauty stir the nether regions, my dear?” Peter asked.

Without turning round, Katie snorted.

“She’s a pretty thing, just your type,” he continued.

Katie turned round, glaring at Peter.

“What about you, brother dearest, does man mountain get the juices flowing?”

Peter sat on the bed, looking slightly upset.

“If you must know, yes, he bloody does! Happy now?”

Katie sniggered.

“Oh, Rob, I so bloody tired of all this. I wish you hadn’t interfered, you always manage to complicate life.”

“Pru, if I hadn’t, you’d never have met Tony.”

“How can I continue being the boy if I feel like I do about him?”

“He even asked you to go to his club, will you go?”

“You know I can’t.”

“Peter can.”

“I’m not Peter, I feel all woman with him around. I’d never be able to keep up this farcical pretence for that long. It’s just as well we’ll never need meet up with Letty or her cousin again.”

“Bollocks. First thing tomorrow I’m going to call on Mr Greyson.”

“Rob, you can’t!”

“Pru, she’s fucking gorgeous.”

“She thinks you’re a girl.”

“So, that way I can become her new best friend.”

“Rob, you fool, you’ll be exposed and ruin everything.”

“How? Do I look like a boy?”

“You know you don’t.”

“So what could go wrong?”

“You! You always go wrong. What happens when you get carried away?”

“Then I shall have to be extra careful.”

“Like the last time?”

Rob looked slightly guilty, but then his grin returned.

“We all can learn from mistakes, can’t we?”

“You don’t realise the danger you are placing us in.”

“Danger, what danger? Look, by making friends with some respectable people, our cover stories will be reinforced. What could go wrong?”

“Tony will see through us, I just know it.”

“Tony? Do me a favour, Pru. He’s just a dopey farmer who can hardly see beyond the end of his nose. He’s not a threat, believe me.”

“He’s more a threat than you realise. He’d see through me after a while.”

“Ho, you make such a good boy, he’ll never see you for what you are.”

“Oh yeah! What happens when he asks me to play squash? Have you any idea how uncomfortable it is having one’s tits bound up tightly?”

Rob looked down at his own chest. The realistic silicone breast forms swinging free, firmly attached by strong adhesive, looking as if they were natural and giving no clue that the wearer was really a male.

“No Pru, I don’t think do.”

“It’s one thing to pretend to be someone else, to slip into the country and disappear. It’s quite another to make such a public entry into high society. The risks are too great.”

“Bollocks. I think she’s the one, Pru!”

“Oh, Rob, if you could hear yourself. They’re all the one.”

“No, this one is different.”

“Rob, life would be so much easier if I had been born the boy, and you the girl. You make a far prettier one than I, after all.”

“Perhaps, but you are still an attractive woman. Big, yes, but dead sexy. Besides, I may make a stunning girl, but as a lad, I’m dynamite.”

“I envy you your figure and height, it would have so much more appropriate for us to have been the opposite gender.”

“I’m not bothered about being five six. I’m only three inches shorter than you are, and it’s never been a problem for me. Letty is the perfect size for me.”

“Three and a half inches, remember? I’m just so broad. Why couldn’t I have your slender figure?”

“Because you take after mum, or so Dad says. He’s the lithe and wiry one, so I take after him.”

Pru watched as her brother repainted his toenails with red varnish. His hands were already immaculate and so feminine as makes no difference. Her hands were quite chunky, and it was a constant source of irritation that Rob was as feminine as he was. However, she knew perfectly well that when dressed as a male, there was nothing feminine about him at all. Tough and wiry, with a spirit of power and grace, he exuded an energetic enthusiasm for life that she could only admire and envy. As a girl, he looked stunning but retaining a hidden toughness that seemed to make him even more attractive to men.

She wondered whether these constant role swaps, designed by their parent as a means of completely obscuring their passage through the world, would have any permanent detrimental effect upon them. She quite enjoyed the thrill of fooling everyone, while she knew that Rob adored playing the role to the hilt, in a couple of cases, it almost went that far.

Rob became a girl almost to the core of his being, occasionally taking the role beyond a joke. A prominent Japanese businessman fell head-over-heels in love with ‘Sarah’, as he was calling himself, and even proposed marriage to ‘her’.

On another occasion, an Australian oil tycoon, somewhat the worse for wear, wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Rob very nearly became the victim of a nasty rape.

It had happened in the Raffles Hotel in Singapore. The tycoon, for some obscure reason was necessary to their father to obtain some drilling rights in the Northern Territory of Australia. Arthur (call me Art) Gallows liked his beer. He also liked his whisky, vodka or anything else that might have any alcoholic content. He also liked blondes.

Rob, in his guise as nineteen-year-old Samantha Fellowes, an American student on year release in industry, was given the task of softening up Mr Gallows, so daddy dear could obtain the valuable signature.

Rob was in the bar, pretending to be waiting for a friend. Art, already slightly lubricated, say a leggy blonde in a very short skirt and tight little top. He strolled over with a subtle chat up line.

“Hallo darlin’, where have you been all my life?”

Rob looked at the overweight sweaty Australian with some distaste. However, such a consummate actor, he smiled sweetly and replied,

“Waiting for you, honey.”

Art plonked his impressive bulk onto the bar stool next to his conquest, leering lasciviously at her.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, how about one of those cute little pink ones with a parasol?”

Now it has to be said that Rob was skilled, but after six cute little pink ones with parasols, even he was beginning to lose control.

“How about a walk, to clear the air?” Art suggested.

“Sure,” ‘Samantha’ giggling, agreed.

Somewhat unsteadily, the pair weaved their way through the ornate gardens, and Art suddenly dragged Rob to the ground, pinning him on his back with his weight.

“Art, you’re hurting me, honey, get the fuck off,” said Rob, maintaining the accent and act.

But Art was too busy undoing his fly with one hand, and groping one of Rob’s silicone titties with the other.

“Art! What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come on, honey, you know you want it.”

With that, he ripped Rob’s panties off, exposing a substantial length of sticking plaster that held him in check.

Fortunately, the Australian was too far gone, so was unable to see the truth. Rob, now genuinely afraid, heaved with all his might, pushing the big man off him and onto his back, rolling away as he did so.

The sudden movement proved too much for Art, who promptly threw up all over himself.

Rob stood up, rearranging his clothing with his heart racing.

Art started to snore, so without further ado, Rob left the man where he was, lying in a pool of vomit, and returned to his room, where he too, threw up into the toilet. Prudence found him a couple of hours later, sitting on the bathroom floor shaking with sobs.

She sat with him, putting her arm round him, waiting for him to stop crying. She felt her anger build up against her father, so once she put Rob to bed she sought him out.

He’d been in his room, working on his laptop.

“Daddy, this has to stop!”

“And just what makes you say that?”

“Rob was damn near raped because of you?”

“I? Goodness gracious, I haven’t seen the boy all evening.”

“Don’t play the innocent. You set him up with that fat bastard, and the same fat bastard almost raped him in the garden.”

“He didn’t though, did he?”

“No thanks to you.”

“Oh, Prudence, you are so well named. I trusted Rob to be able to take care of himself, and he did. So where’s the problem?”

“Daddy, he was damn nearly raped, what would you feel like if he had been?”

“Pru, he wasn’t, so there’s no problem.”

This wasn’t the first such incident, but Rob became more adept at handling lecherous males after that, even to the point of providing ‘hand-relief’ on a couple of occasions.

Robert, Pru and Rob’s father, managed to acquire the signature from an extremely embarrassed Australian, who could remember nothing about the previous evening after leaving the bar. For some reason, Art was informed that he had actually raped the American girl, and it was only Robert’s diplomacy and tact that prevented her from taking the allegation to the local police.

Pru never truly trusted her father again.
 

*          *          *
 
Rob finished repainting his nails, putting the varnish away in his large vanity case. He glanced up, as he brushed his long hair.

“Oh, Pru, you’re not worrying that I’m turning into a transsexual again, are you?”

“This can’t be doing either of us any good. You do it too well to be an act.”

Rob shrugged, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Pru, lighten up. If you take it seriously, then it’s bound to affect you. I don’t, I treat it as a game, as a challenge. My challenge is to convince everyone that what they see is real. You know how far I’ve gone with some men, and even when kissing them, it’s an act, just as actors on the stage or movies, it isn’t the real me.”

Rob cast off the dressing gown, and Pru saw clearly the real Rob. Notwithstanding the silicone breast forms; his shape was otherwise so obviously male that she could only admire his skills in dressing. Padded panties and a tight waist-clinching corset gave him that perfect shape. His arms, normally concealed beneath silk sleeves, were a little too sinewy and the muscles too well defined to be classically female. Yet, Rob had managed to risk the beach in a swimsuit on several occasions, portraying an athletic female, who found herself surrounded by huge hunks of muscle-bound testosterone that left Pru gasping in pure admiration at his skills in deception.

Flirting outrageously, making dates and never going too far, Rob now knew the limits, and if anyone attempted to push past these limits, he was quick and very well able to maintain his honour and his secret.

“Admit it girl, you’re jealous of your little brother,” he teased.

“Perhaps, a little. Not so much of your physical attributes, more of your confidence and whole carefree attitude. That I envy.”

“Aha, therein lies the responsibility of being the elder child. I let you worry, and so I don’t have to.”

Pru laughed, but in truth was becoming very weary of this game their parent had them play. The role reversal had started when Rob had been thirteen, and they were living in Hong Kong. Rob even attended an English School as Charlotte Ramsay, and had managed to fool teachers and pupils alike for an entire year.

Pru had been Jennifer, and allowed to be Charlie’s elder sister. No one questioned the girls, as Charlotte had been so pretty and charming. In fact, much to their father’s amusement, in the school play, Pru was selected to play the leading man opposite Rob as the leading lady.

One year later, in New Zealand, fourteen year old Rob was back to being a boy, Jamie Scott, with an elder brother, Simon. Their first names had changed almost on a yearly basis, as had their surnames. In truth, neither of them knew what their real surname was.

“What time do we have to be at Theresa’s?” Rob asked.

“She said she’d be home around noon, so we’ve been asked in time for lunch.”

“Good, then we’ve time to drop in on the Greysons.”

“Oh, Rob, please give up this madness.”

“Pru, come on, live a little. Your mountain might be there,” Rob said.

Pru smiled slightly.

“Just promise me; no funny business, okay?”

“Moi? Funny business? When have I ever stooped to funny business?”

“Daily, goodnight,” said Pru, wanting to be in her room and having a much needed rest.

Brother and sister kissed each other, both silently thankful for the other. For as siblings, rarely had any been quite so interdependent.

Pru was very tired, and she was so grateful to be free of the tight bindings she kept across her chest. She had a long soak in her bath, allowing her skin time to breathe and be free from constraint. She knew that Rob lived totally as his adopted persona, both in view of others and out of view.

Pru, however, couldn’t do that and keep sane. Whenever alone, she’d return to the familiar and comfort of being herself. Therefore, as she dried herself, she slipped on a silk nightdress and not a pair of flannel pyjamas. She looked at herself in the mirror, and realised she did envy Rob. She knew she was good looking, in a larger sort of way. Her cropped hair was indicative of her role, and made her look more masculine. However, her shape was classically hourglass, and she was an accomplished actor, capable of maintaining a deception for long periods at a time.

The voice was the hardest, as both had found. Pru had managed to master a very masculine gruff voice, and found by speaking quite quietly, she was able to sound convincing.

It had to be said, that apart from their school days in strange climes, the longest they’d ever had to maintain a deception normally ran to hours rather than days. This wasn’t a problem for Pru, but was for Rob, who needed to shave occasionally.

Pru had also experienced occasional near misses due to her real gender. As one can imagine, tampons and feminine hygiene products are not a prerequisite of many male facilities. She’d become very adept at anticipating such emergencies.

Although weary, sleep was not quick in coming to Pru. Her mind flitted to the incident with Mr Markham and the pretty girl, Letty. However, it was of Tony Fanshaw she thought of most - the tall man with the casual attitude to life. His smile was warm and although slow to start, rewarded one with a depth of humour that seemed to glow. She experienced a strange feeling when she thought of him. For so long she had been prepared to up-sticks and move at a moments notice, the feeling of safety and security was as alien to her as knowing the warmth of home.

Yet, Tony made her feel safe. For under his gaze, she felt a curious protection existed, and from his mere presence, she drew a feeling of security.

Pru fell asleep, but the smile on her face was one that she seldom adopted.

Rob, however, slept like a log. He had an innate ability to be able to close his eyes and go to sleep, at any time of the day or night. This skill annoyed his sister so much that she now believed he did it solely to wind her up.
 
 
Chapter 4 - Stepping Out
 
 
Pru was woken up by someone tickling her feet.

She opened an eye to see Rob, immaculately dressed in a beautiful Italian silk dress, with makeup hosiery and shoes to match.

“Bastard!” she muttered.

Rob laughed, somehow managing to sound so feminine, and yet retain the core of his masculine identity.

“It’s nearly eight thirty. If we’re going to drop in on the Greysons, we need to get a move on.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Bloody ages. Don’t you know how long it takes us girls to look pretty in the morning?”

Pru laughed and made for the bathroom.

“Get me a coffee, there’s a love,” she said, running the shower.

She wasn’t long, and came out a few moments later, with a towel wrapped round her, as most women do. Rob had poured her a coffee, and was sitting reading the Daily Telegraph.

“Tremaine Holdings are up again,” he said.

“Good for them, so what?”

“Dad was always particularly interested in them, over and above all others.”

“Why?”

“Beats me, I just remember him always looking at them first, no matter where we were in the world.” He turned over a few pages.

“Oh God! I don’t like the new Spring range from Paris. Those shoulders are just over the top.”

Pru smiled and shook her head. Some girl was going to have a tough time if he ever found one stupid enough to get married to him.

Pru drank her coffee, reluctantly dressing once more as a male. Rob helped with the binding process, so that once more, Pru became Peter Marriott. Combing her hair with a central parting, Pru conceded that she looked the part.

“If I was a girl, I’d fancy you,” Rob teased, looking every inch a very attractive girl.

“Thanks darling.”

Rob helped Pru pack, and then they descended with their luggage to the reception level. They left their bags with the receptionist, strolling into the dining room for breakfast.

Many a male eye followed Rob’s seductive walk as Katie once more took to the floor. He had perfected a walk that rolled the buttocks, with shoulders perfectly straight, placing each delicately high heeled foot in front of the other with the toe just pointing out, causing grown men to cry and redistribute their anatomy inside their trousers.

Katie sat, just giving a brief tantalising flash of leg before pulling her hem down to cover up. They both ordered a full English breakfast, and settled down to watch the other guests.

“Do you think it ever warms up?” Rob asked.

They both stared at the greyness outside and the rain that lashed against the vast glass wall. The pond looked wholly uninviting.

“I bloody well hope so,” said Pru, with some feeling.

“Do you remember any of it?”

She shook her head.

“I was only two or something when we left. I don’t even remember Mum.”

“I know. I still feel guilty,” said Rob.

“Don’t. It wasn’t your fault the doctors in Columbia were crap. Dad’s shouldn’t have ever made us leave.”

“It’s not Dad’s fault. They said that her heart was going to go pop anytime. It was just my birth that caused it. It would have happened here, as well.”

“I still think we shouldn’t have left. I often wonder what kind of life we would have had if we’d stayed.”

“Boring! I would be boring, not able to speak Cantonese, Arabic, French, German, Spanish, Italian, and all the rest. We would never have had as much fun as we have.”

Pru smiled.

“I still would have liked a home.”

“We’ve had hundreds. Remember that ranch in Argentina?”

“Yes, we only stayed there eight months.”

“We stayed in Monaco for nearly two years. That villa was brilliant.”

“It wasn’t home though, was it?”

“It was good enough. What about the yacht in the Aegean?”

“That was lovely, but is wasn’t a home. We’ve never had a dog, do you realise that?”

“So? I had a tarantula in New Mexico.”

“It’s hardly the same,” Pru said.

“Maybe not, but it gave me respect at school.”

“Third graders don’t keep tarantulas in their lunch pails.”

“I did.”

Pru went quiet as their food was delivered.

“It was fun, though, most of it,” she admitted.

“It’s not over yet. I have a feeling this bit will be the best.”

At that moment, one of the receptionists came over to their table.

“Mr Marriott?” he asked Pru.

“Yes?”

“I have a message for you, sir.”

The man handed Pru a folded piece of paper and departed.

She read it.

“Shit!”

“What?”

“It’s Tony. He’s invited me to a dinner at his club tomorrow night. Black tie.”

“Oh, goodie, we get to go shopping,” said Rob.

“No, not ‘we’, this is a men only event.”

Rob smiled.

“How apt,” he said, and continued eating.

They left the hotel at nine thirty, catching a black cab for the centre of town.

The cabbie wasn’t the cheeky cockney that Rob was expecting. He was a disillusioned University ex-lecturer from Aberdeen, who grunted occasionally and sniffed perpetually.

They arrived at Cadogan Place in Belgravia at a quarter after ten. It was still raining. The whole of London seemed to have an atmosphere of gloom hanging over it, even the posh bits.

They took all their luggage out of the cab, and Pru paid the miserable Scotsman. Looking up at the large town house, she felt slightly out of her depth.

“Are you sure this is the place?” she asked.

“Yup, absolutely. Impressive, isn’t it?” ‘Katie’ answered, pushing the bell.

Pru smiled, watching her brother adopt perfect feminine gestures and mannerisms as if born to the role. The door opened and a man dressed in a smart suit looked at them.

“Hello, we’re Katie and Peter Marriott, we’ve come to make sure that Letty got home in one piece after her nasty ordeal.”

“Please some in,” said the man, eying the baggage with some apprehension.

“Oh, we’re just dropping in for a quick visit. We’re on way to Elm Park Gardens, do you know it?”

“I do, Miss, thank you. Please, leave them here and come through to the sitting room, I’ll inform Miss Letitia and Sir Charles that you’re here.”

The butler left them in a luxurious sitting room, with what could have been a Turner over the mantelpiece.

“Letitia,” said Pru, smiling.

“It’s better than Prudence.”

“Yes, Katherine, it is.”

Their sibling spat was interrupted by Letty bursting into the room at a run, and flinging herself into Rob’s arms.

“Oh, Katie, I’m so glad you came. I was hoping you would.”

“We just had to make sure Tony brought you back in one piece,” said Pru.

“And why shouldn’t I?” said a deep voice from the doorway.

Pru went bright red and Rob laughed with pure joy.

“No reason, I just, um, I just wanted, to….” Pru was lost for words, looking embarrassed.

“Did you get my message?” Tony asked.

“I did, thank you. It was very kind of you to ask me, but until I’ve touched base with our hosts, I am not yet able to accept.”

“I understand. Give me a bell when you know.” Tony turned to Rob. “Are you well, Miss Marriott?”

“Tony, please call me Katie. Miss Marriott sounds so formal. I’m very well, but wholly unused to the climate. Does it ever stop raining?”

“I told it did once in eighteen seventy-four, for ten minutes,” he said, drawing a smile from all.

Sir Charles Greyson chose that moment to enter the room. He saw his daughter with her arm around a strikingly attractive blonde-haired girl some three or four inches taller that she. Tony was standing next to another fine looking young man, of medium height and build. It was Tony who introduced them.

“Sir Charles, this is the delightful pair who thwarted that arse Markham last evening. Katie and Peter Marriott, Sir Charles Greyson, Letty’s longsuffering father.”

Sir Charles looked faintly embarrassed. He was of slight stature, with grey hair, receding, but rather long at the back so it curled over his Saville Row suit and pink shirt. In his late fifties, he was particularly protective of his daughter, who had come late in life to his late wife and he. This over-protectiveness was probably the cause for her rather flighty behaviour, but somehow, he was unable to revise his behaviour at this late stage.

“I am indebted to you, it seems.” He was about to formally shake their hands, when Katie breezed over to him and kissed his cheek. She was of a similar height to him, if not slightly taller in her heels.

“Oh, Sir Charles, I’ve heard so much about you, and I don’t believe a single word the girl said. It is so nice to meet you, and I can see where Letty gets her twinkle from.”

From that moment on, ‘Katie’ had him eating out from her hand. Pru simply shook the man’s hand, muttering, “How d’ye do,” and stood back and let ‘Katie’ do the rest.

They spent an hour with the Greysons. Tony took ‘Peter’ to the snooker room, as clearly the two girls were inseparable once Sir Charles retired to his study, much relieved to find Letty in the tender hands of a responsible female companion for a change. Pru gasped at her brother’s audacity as she heard him say to Sir Charles, “Rest assured, for while I am in London, I shall make it my business to be a good friend to Letty, and make sure that she’s rarely out of my sight.”

Crafty bugger.

Pru, no stranger to snooker, pool or billiards, performed more than adequately against Tony, by beating him in the first frame.

“Letty tells me that you’ve lived abroad for most of your life, where about?”

“All over. USA, Canada, South America, Europe, the Far East and Australasia. Dad has various business interests, so we kept moving around.”

“You must have seen some sights, eh?”

“One or two. Thailand was different. Hopefully things will settle down now we’re back.”

“Left a string of girlfriends along the way?”

Pru went red; pleased she was standing behind Tony as he played his shot.

“One or two, maybe.”

“I’ll bet your sister’s a real heart breaker.”

“Yes, she is,” Pru said, not having to lie for a change.

“Who’s the elder?”

“I am by a couple of years. I’m twenty four.”

“You don’t look it.”

“My nickname at school was Cherub, but to be honest, I’d rather forget that.”

Tony laughed and potted the white of the end cushion.

“Shit!”

Pru smiled.

“What school did you go to?” she asked.

“Wellington. Dad went there, so it was a family tradition. How about you?”

“I went to about twelve schools in all, stretching from Columbia to Australia and most points in between.”

Tony paused in his game, looking up at her.

“So, there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye. Were these English Schools or what?”

“Or what mostly. A couple were, like Hong Kong and Milan, but usually they were simply local schools in the local language. America and Canada were easier, on the language front at any rate.”

“Ah, a bit of a linguist then?”

Pru smiled.

“A bit,” she said, modestly.

“What do you do?”

“I’ve got a job with Tremaine Industries, in their legal department.”

“Lawyer?”

“Law degree only. International Law at Harvard.”

Tony was impressed.

“And Katie, I’m sure she’s not just a pretty face?”

Pru laughed out loud.

“Oh, she’s far more than meets the eye. She’s the real linguist. I can get by, but she’s fluent in six other languages and most capable in as many more. She starts work with the same company in their International office, as an interpreter and translator.”

“I’ve not heard of Tremaine Industries.”

“Neither had I, until searching for jobs. They had a push to recruit people with international experience.”

“It certainly sounds as if you two fit the bill.” Tony left Pru with a snooker, and stood back grinning maliciously. “Get out of that!”

Pru did, by going of two cushions and a pocket edge. She was rather fluky and potted the last red.

“Bugger me!” said Tony.

“I’d rather not, I’m off luxuries this week,” said Pru, potting the black and lining up on the yellow.

She potted the yellow but missed the green. Her lead left Tony needing at least three snookers.

“You’ve played before,” he said.

“Once or twice,” she admitted.

“I hope you can make dinner, you’d like the club.”

“Loads of old men in leather armchairs, overdosing on gin?” Pru asked.

Tony chuckled and potted the pink instead of the brown.

“Fuck! I concede, sir.”

“Seriously, what do you do, apart from fuel a chemical dependency in a leather armchair?”

Tony laughed again.

“I like that,” he said. “I farm. Or to be brutally honest, I manage six farms of our land. I took over from my Pa when he died four years ago; I was only twenty-four when he went. Had to leave the army, just as I was about to sign on as a regular. So, we had tenant farmers in five, while the main farm was ours. To be frank, we were buggered by the recent mad cow disease scare, and then came foot and mouth. The tenants sold up and decided to leave, so I took on all the farms, diversifying into vegetables for supermarkets and putting one farm under glass for tomatoes and some soft fruits.

“I employ three managers, one for the livestock, one the arable crops and the last for the green houses. I breed prize bulls on the original farm, and my mother’s stables are still very lucrative. To be honest the place runs itself, but occasionally I show up and pretend to know what is going on.”

“You miss the army,” Pru said. It was a statement, not a question.

He chuckled again.

“Yes I do, does it show?”

“Yes, a little. Oh, don’t get me wrong, you are committed to what you’re doing, but you miss the life you left behind.”

“You’re very astute, that’s why I joined the TA. I’m a Captain in the Bucks and Berks Horse. It’s an armoured yeomanry regiment; we get together and play soldiers every month and, once a year, go somewhere different to play for a week or so. It’s not the same but it does the job.”

“My father says that you can take the man out of the army, but you can never take the soldier out of the man.”

Tony looked at Pru, half closing his eyes.

“I must meet your father some day, he sounds my sort of chap.”

“I think he is,” Pru said, reddening, for her father also said, “A girl will often marry a man who is most like her father.”

“So, another game, or shall we join the girls?” Tony asked.

Pru looked at her watch, noting that over an hour had elapsed. She couldn’t remember an hour she had enjoyed so much for a long time.

“We’d better go, we are due at out friends in a while. Thanks for the game.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry I wasn’t better competition for you. Perhaps we could have a game of squash someday soon?”

Pru laughed in spite of her control.

“Maybe. It’s not my game, though.”

“I don’t mind winning, I promise,” Tony said, and Pru blushed.

Returning to the sitting room, the girls were nowhere to be found. However, Letty’s giggles led them upstairs to Letty’s bedroom, or to be more accurate, Letty’s suite.

It was a huge house, and with just Letty and her father in the main house, with the staff of three in apartments to the rear, it was really far bigger than was appropriate for so few people. However, Sir Charles wouldn’t see it that way, and entertained his foreign clients and guests in a grand scale, initially with his wife as hostess, and after she died, his daughter in her place.

They found Letty and Katie kneeling on the floor looking at photograph albums scattered around them.

“This is Tony as a serious sixteen year old,” said Letty, pointing at the page. Pru leaned over and saw a much younger and serious faced Tony glaring at the camera.

“I don’t like having my picture taken, either,” she said.

“I’m not so bad these days, but I used to hate it.”

“Katie, we ought to be going. Theresa’s expecting us any minute,” Pru said.

Rob looked up and grinned, his eyes dancing with unmitigated pleasure.

“Did you get beaten then, Peter?”

“I’m ashamed to say that young Peter thrashed me in two straight frames. He is a veritable tiger with a cue,” Tony said.

“You’ll have to get together for a rematch. Do they have tables in the Cavalry Club, Tony?” Rob asked.

“Indeed they do.”

“Then he’ll just have to accept your very kind offer, I’m sure Theresa will understand,” Rob said, enjoying watching Pru’s colour rise in her cheeks.

“I’ll wait until I check with her. She might have something planned, you never know. It would be impolite to make plans without speaking to her first.”

“I quite agree, give me a ring when you know. I gave you a card, didn’t I?” Tony asked.

“Yes, you did,” said Pru.

They said their farewells in the hall, even causing Sir Charles to venture out from his study to thank them once again.

“We’d better call a cab, I’m not lugging all this round to Elm Park Gardens,” said ‘Katie’.

“”I’ll drop you off, if you like. I’ve plenty of room in the beast,” said Tony.

“The beast?” said Pru.

“My Range Rover. Letty calls it the beast because she thinks it’s too big for the town.”

“I might have known you’d have one of them,” ‘Katie’ said with a smile.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to,” said Pru, before Rob started lowering the conversation down to penis sizes in relation to the size of a man’s car.

“It’s no problem, I’d like to help.”

Pru blushed again, feeling foolish, as the man was just being friendly.

“Thanks, it’ll save us a few bob,” said Rob, recognising that Pru was getting sidetracked.

It took them a few minutes to reach Elm Park Gardens, and to a slightly smaller but equally up-market town house.

“Ah, the Lowes,” said Tony as he pulled up outside.

“You know them?” Pru asked.

“Yes, I was at Oxford with Stephen. How do you know them?”

“Daddy met Roger Lowe in Hong Kong some time ago, and I think they still have business connections,” said Pru.

Theresa opened the front door and was surprised to see Tony with the siblings.

“Tony, what are you doing?” she asked. Her accent was still discernable, although she’d been married to Roger for thirty years; her French accent had not quite been eliminated. Hailing from Switzerland, she met Roger at a conference in Geneva. Roger had been a hard-nosed businessman, and she was the complete opposite, so they had complimented each other wonderfully. She was a gloriously outrageous hostess, and as a result, any party at the Lowes was bound to be fun.

Roger died a couple of years previously, and the siblings’ father had renewed his friendship with her shortly afterwards in Geneva.

She was a jolly plump woman, being one of those women whose beauty wasn’t reduced by age, but enhanced. Her lively smile and wonderful sense of fun transcended generation boundaries, and her laughter was infectious.

“Theresa, how lovely to see you. It seems that we now have mutual friends. These good people were of assistance to Letty last evening, and in return I find myself helping them. I had no idea they were coming here until just now.”

“What’s Letty done this time?” Theresa asked.

“Just been a blackmail victim by that idiot Howard Markham, do you know him?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He’s nothing to worry about, but he thought he could get his hands on her assets by marrying her. Letty, poor fool that she can be, fancied she was in love and went as far as the airport and then, as usual, got a touch of the seconds. Luckily, Peter and Katie here managed to thwart him, and Letty was reunited with us once more.”

“How fortunate,” she said, arching her eyebrows at Pru.

“While I am here, would it be in order for me to steal young Peter from you tomorrow evening for dinner at the club? Only I’d hate for it to clash with an event you’d already planned.”

Theresa looked questioningly at Pru, and noticed that Rob was trying hard not to laugh.

“I have nothing planned, so he is all yours, if he wants to, that is.”

“Oh, he’ll want to,” said Rob, watching his sister go bright red again.

“That’s settled, I’ll be here at seven to pick you up, old man,” Tony said.

“Right, thanks,” stammered Pru.

Tony kissed Theresa and ‘Katie’s’ cheeks, shook Pru’s hand and departed.

“Welcome to England my loves. Oh, to see Tony kiss you, Robbie dear, what a lovely sight.”

“Theresa, don’t you remember me, I’m Pru?” said Rob.

“Pah, you are far too slender to be Prudence, and far too pretty.”

“Thanks very much,” said Pru.

“You, my dear are not pretty like the boy, you are beautiful and statuesque. It might have been six years since I last saw you, but you are far more the woman than your impish little brother ever could hope to be,” she said, giving them both a hug.

“Tell me how’s your father?”

“As always, insufferable,” said Rob as the door closed, and for a while, they were able to be themselves.
 
 
Chapter 5 - New Friends
 
 
“I’m not happy with this,” Pru admitted, as Rob helped her with the black bow tie.

“You’ll be fine.”

“I just feel he’ll find me out, and I can’t face the humiliation. He’ll be so angry and it isn’t fair to him.”

“You’ll be fine. Man-mountain is as blind as a bat, you’ll dance rings round him. There, a work of art, even if I say so myself.”

He stood by his sister and they both regarded her reflection in the full-length mirror.

The dinner jacket (tuxedo, for the North Americans) fitted perfectly, and with a crimson cummerbund, she looked very dashing.

“I’m shaking,” she admitted.

“You’ll be fine,” Rob repeated.

She made a face, desperately torn. On the one hand she knew she had to keep to the plan, yet on the other, she wanted to throw away Peter and be herself. She found Tony attractive and wanted earnestly to be the woman for him.

“Maybe he’s gay, and fancies your bum.”

“Rob. That’s disgusting!”

“Look, if he’s straight, then you’ve nothing to worry about. If he’s not, he’s in for a disappointment, isn’t he?”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, noting that Rob was still dressed as Katie, even if in jeans and a sweater.

“Letty and I are going up to the West End to see a film.”

“Oh Rob, be careful.”

“I shall. Look, I like the girl, and want to be with her. I promise I’ll behave and won’t disgrace myself by giving the game away.”

Rob brushed a spec of dust of his sister’s shoulders.

“You’re as ready as can be. Just go and enjoy yourself. Try to relax and go with the flow.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Oh, Pru, just relax. If things get sticky, make an excuse and leave. Say you’ve got jet-lag or something.”

There were sounds of movement downstairs, and Theresa’s voice shouted up.

“Peter, Tony’s here.”

“Oh shit!”

“He’s coming,” shouted Rob.

“I feel like a girl on her first date.”

“Pru, you are, but he doesn’t know it yet.”

“Oh, Rob, what do I do?”

Rob grabbed her by the arm and physically pulled her out of the room and to the stairs. By the time they reached the foot of the stairs, she was able to move without assistance.

“Hi, Peter, ready?” Tony asked.

“Yup.”

“Gosh, Katie, you’re looking lovely. Letty says you’re both off to the cinema. Have fun.”

“Thanks Tony, try not to get my brother too drunk.”

With a nervous smile, Pru followed Tony out of the house. Theresa turned to Rob.

“She’s very nervous, why?”

“I think she thinks she’s in love,” Rob said with a grin.

“With Tony? How delightful. So many girls have yet to snare that one. They would make a perfect match.”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“Oh, your Papa. He’ll be fine with it. Tony is of an impeccable family. And he’s filthy rich.”

Rob laughed, as Theresa pronounced it as ‘feelthy’.

Rob pulled on his leather jacket and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He then stood facing the hall mirror, shaking out his hair and repairing his lipstick.

“Is Tony gay?” he asked.

“Oh dear me, no. At least, I don’t think so, why?”

“If he is, then Pru is in more danger than we thought. If he isn’t, and twigs, the result could be similar.”

Theresa found this enormously humorous, and she gave Rob a hug as the lad left the house.
 

*          *          *
 
“Ever been to a club?” Tony asked, as they made their way towards the Hyde Park end of Piccadilly, and the Cavalry and Guards Club.

“I’ve not been in England since I was two.”

“I forgot, sorry. But surely they have similar abroad?”

“They had one in India, but I was only a child. I just remember the Indian army officers being almost more English than the Brits. It was very strange. I went to an American Officer’s club, and that was slightly different, I think.”

“Never fancy the forces as a career?”

Pru smiled and shook her head.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I think you’d like it.”

“Perhaps,” she said, noncommittally.

“Well, not to worry, you’ll meet some of the chaps I used to soldier with. There will be twelve of us. Six from the regiment and each with a guest.”

“Oh, no women then?”

“No, chaps only, so the jokes will be slightly juicy.”

“Ah!”

“No girl friend, young Peter?”

“No, not at the moment. How about you?”

“Lots have tried, but I have yet to find one that meets my exacting standards.”

“And just what are they?”

“I rather subscribe to Professor Henry Higgins’ view,” Tony said, with a chuckle.

“Oh, that a woman should be more like a man?”

“Capital. You know My Fair Lady?”

Pru grinned.

“It was my mother’s favourite show. Dad would play the video endlessly, just to remind himself of happier times.”

“I know it’s frightfully non-PC, but I can’t be doing with those women who get all fluffy about life. Take your sister, she’s lovely, but probably knows more about those clothes she wears than could possibly be good for her. Every time I’ve seen her, she looks wonderful, but can she unhitch a trailer from a Land Rover, or grab a sheep with its head stuck through a barbed wire fence?”

“Actually, yes, she can. Katie is hardly your normal girl. She is a better shot than most men I know, she rides a motorcycle and she swears like one of your troopers.”

“Really? Hmm, interesting,” said Tony with a strange expression in his eye.

Pru closed her eyes briefly, wondering why she couldn’t just keep her big mouth shut. Now the man she fancied was interested in her brother because she just sold him to the man. Sod!

“However,” she continued. “She has more clothes than we have wardrobes, she takes forever to get ready for anything, and just can’t hold her liquor.”

“I could live with that,” Tony said with a smile. Pru almost rose to the bait, but then realised he was teasing her.

“Here we are.”

It was an imposing building with remarkable views of Green Park, in the heart of Mayfair. They entered and Pru found herself in a spectacular hallway, with a black and white checked floor and an ornate staircase winding upwards past the chandeliers.

“We’re in the Double Bridal Room on the second floor. It’s at the back of the building, but it’s nice and quiet. We can get hopelessly pissed and no one will give a damn.”

That’s nice,” said Pru, not meaning it at all. Suddenly, she was feeling even more nervous. They went up the stairs, finding the room indeed tucked away at the back of the building. Four men had already arrived; standing with drinks in their hands. All were wearing dinner jackets, so Pru felt less conspicuous. One was wearing full mess dress, including medals and three pips of rank.

“Fanny! Good to see you man,” said a very jovial looking young man with a florid face and large paunch.

Pru was amused by Tony’s nickname, storing it away for future use.

“Podger, still too fat, I see,” said Tony, shaking the other’s hand.

“This is a young friend of mine, Peter Marriott. He’s very bravely agreed to come along and partake of a boozy evening with us tonight. The overweight oaf is Paul Stewart-Grant, the thin captain in mess kit, with the silly moustache is Archie McRae, and I’m afraid I don’t know their guests.”

The men introduced themselves to Pru. All were mid to late twenties, and so far these were all taller than she. Before any conversation could start, the other six arrived. Pru was introduced to them all, but instantly forgot their names.

Tony handed her a gin and tonic, which she gratefully sipped. Then she gasped. It was fifty percent gin. She knew full well that two of these, and she was going to be in great danger of losing whatever control she had. She walked over to the single large round table and looked at the menu, while seeking somewhere to dispose her drink unobserved.

Tiger Prawns & Sole Terrine with a Roast Yellow Pepper Coulis * * * Breast of Duck with a Honey & Ginger Sauce Chá¢teaux Potatoes Panache of Root Vegetables * * * Passion Fruit Tart with Crá¨me Fraiche * * * Coffee

The menu looked delicious, and as she glanced at the eleven men, it dawned on her that not one of them had the slightest notion that a female had penetrated their traditional defences and was even now lurking in their midst.

“Looks good enough to eat,”said Tony, as he joined her at the table. He rested on hand on her shoulder.

“It does; the prawns in Australia will take some beating, I have to say.”

Tony smiled. Pru suddenly felt a prickle of apprehension. Did the man know? Did he suspect? Why was he so friendly? Was Rob right, was he gay? She suddenly didn’t want to be here. Yet, the touch of his hand and his proximity to her excited her in ways she had never experienced before.

They all had another drink before dinner, and much to Pru’s consternation, she was forced to drink them both. She took the opportunity to escape to the lavatory, and seated in the cubicle, she attempted to make sense of her confusion.

Her father had strictly instructed her to keep a low profile and avoid any extensive socialising whereby she could be readily identified or exposed. She laughed, without any humour. It was day two, and she was already doing everything wrong. She shook her head sadly and concluded her business. However, just before leaving the cubicle, two men entered, and were obviously stood at the urinals.

“Who’s that young chap with Tony?” one asked the other.

“No idea, a Peter someone. Never seen him before.”

“Is he army?”

“Don’t think so. Tony mentioned something about being in law.”

“Looks too young to be a barrister. How did Tony meet him?”

“He and his sister helped out with his cousin, you remember her, the one who nearly ran off with that black rapper last year?”

“What Letty?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Nice girl, pity about the old man. He’s so over protective, it’s no wonder the poor girl wants to run away the whole time.”

The men progressed from the urinal to the washbasins.

“Still, Peter has a gorgeous sister, by all accounts.”

“Really?”

“Yah, Tony said she’s a real blonde bombshell, and quite a character. She and Letty have gone up town to the cinema tonight.”

“I’ll have to see if I can’t meet her. What’s her name?”

“Katie, I think.”

The men left, and Pru couldn’t help smiling. The coast clear, she came out of the cubicle, washed her hands, and returned to the small chamber.

The men were all sitting and she took her place next to Tony. She watched with dismay as a large glass of white wine was poured into an enormous glass.

“We’ve a beautiful burgundy for the next course,” said the captain.

Pru groaned inwardly. This was going to be tough, as she was already feeling slightly tipsy.
 

*          *          *
 
Meanwhile, across town in a cinema just off Leicester Square, Letty sat close to Rob watching an American chick flick. They were sharing a tub of popcorn, and Letty had held Rob’s arm since they left the house.

“I can’t remember the last time I went to the cinema,” Letty whispered.

“Me neither.” Rob said, feeling intoxicated by the scent in Letty’s hair. The sticking plaster holding him in place was seriously threatened, and he tried to concentrate on the movie. It was utter balls, but Letty was enjoying it, and so Rob sat there, simply enjoying being with her.

After the movie ended, they went to Garfunkles to grab something to eat. They lined up behind the ‘Wait Here To Be Seated’ sign, and Letty chatted inanely about the film. She tucked her arm through Rob’s, and they looked just like two girls out on the town.

Carlo Pascini had been working in London for three years. Now, as headwaiter, he had an eye for the pretty girls. Not only did his Latin charm usually ensure the girls were good tippers, he had an excellent record of persuading them to meet him later.

It was the blonde one that caught his eye. She was with a smaller darker girl, who was equally pretty, but less dynamic somehow. He busied himself, helping arrange tables, watching her as he did so. She was like a lioness, gentle and deliberate in movement, but with hidden power and strength.

She became aware of his gaze and their eyes met. Her blue eyes were wonderful, but also quite fearless. She met and held his stare so that it was he who broke away, slightly breathless and intrigued. He had found his quarry for the evening.

The two girls were behind a party of five young men. He found a table for two that became free, and rapidly cleared it, resetting it in record time. He approached the line. Holding up a hand with two fingers raised, he stared at the blonde girl and smiled.

“Two, I have a table for two!”

It was the darker girl who stuck up her hand, and he let them through to guide them to their table.

“Buonasera, belle signorine!” he said.

To his dismay, the object of his desire smiled sweetly and replied in fluent Italian.

“Taglio l'amoreggia, e ci dá  il menu!” (Cut the flirting and give us the menu)

“E italiano, Signorina?”

“No,” she said, sitting in the chair he held for her.

He nodded and smiled. She was even more of a challenge now!

“You would like a drink?” he asked.

“White wine for me,” said the darker girl.

“Beer, a pint of John Smiths, please.”

Carlo, smiling and nodding, thought this girl was wonderful.

The girls chatted like old friends. Actually, Rob said very little as Letty said enough for both of them. Rob discovered rather a lonely girl, who was seeking stability and freedom from her father. Despite all that had happened, she adored her father, who obviously thought the world of her.

“Why can’t I meet that special man, the one I dream about every night?” she asked Rob.

“Tell me about him,” Rob asked.

“Well, he’s not as big as Tony, we’d have to fit well together, so he’s not too tall. He’s strong and very quick. But most of all, he has a smile that melts my heart. He would find me an icicle from an Alpine waterfall to cool my drink, and he’d leave me a single white rose on my bedside for me to find in the morning.”

“White?”

“I adore white roses. He’d be so fair, to contrast with my dark hair, and he’d be like you.”

“Me?” said Rob, almost dropping into a dangerous octave through surprise.

“Yes, he’d be able to speak in lots of different languages, and just be able to protect me from harm for the rest of my life.”

“Tall order, I doubt one like that exists,” Rob said.

“He exists!” she said, quite certain.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen him.”

“When?” he asked, frowning.

“In my dreams. He comes to me every night.”

“What’s he look like?”

“I told you,” she said, grinning.

“His face, what’s his face look like?”

“I don’t know, as he wears a mask. You know, like Batman and Robin.”

“Letty you are an incurable romantic. No one wears masks these days.”

“He does.”

Rob laughed and Letty joined in. Carlo brought their drinks.

They ordered their food, and Rob, recognising the predatory nature of the Italian, flirted outrageously with the poor man.

The food was adequate and just the quantity they needed, and in a busy restaurant, they were able to chatter in privacy in the midst of so much noise.

“So, when do you start at your new job?” Letty asked.

“Monday.”

“Where is it?”

“Tremaine Tower is just down from Victoria station towards the Houses of Parliament. It’s not far from New Scotland Yard. St James tube station is the closest.”

“Not far then.”

“No.”

“I’m still trying to get a job, but the HND isn’t really enough for most papers.”

“Why not do a degree?”

“I don’t want to. I have to be honest, I don’t need a job. Certainly not for the money, but I want to get out and see the world. I wanted to do VSO, you know, to go and help out in some poor country or something, but Daddy refused to let me go until I was over twenty-one. I get all my inheritance then, you see.”

“When is your birthday?”

“Not until August, why?”

“I have a feeling you’ll meet the man of your dreams before then, and he’ll whisk you away to places you haven’t dreamed about yet.”

Letty smiled.

“You’re teasing me.”

“A little, but I actually think you will find him. How do you think you’ll meet?”

“Oh, it has to be in a castle, with a full moon, and he’ll wear his mask. I’ll know him by his smile, and he’ll speak to me in French, calling me ‘Ma chéri’.”

“I was right, you are incurable,” Rob said, smiling and wondering where the hell he could find a mask.

They paid for the meal, and left a love-torn Carlo wondering where he had gone wrong. They caught a cab, to drop Letty off first.

“I wonder how Peter is getting on,” Letty said.

“Hmm, I wonder.”
 

*          *          *
 
Pru was drunk. She knew she was drunk, and had just heard one of the most revolting stories she had ever heard. They had reached the cigar and brandy stage and she had managed not to be sick, but had yet to fall over.

She told a story about an English sailor who went to bed with a prostitute, only to find the girl was a boy. The punch line contained words she had never before spoken, and yet the men seemed to appreciate it.

She saw Tony smiling at her, and her heart ached. She wanted to grab him, confess all and ask him to take her to bed. However, she didn’t. She excused herself and went to the lavatory again.

She sat on the toilet, bowed over with her head on her arms. She found herself silently crying tears of frustration. Why can’t I be me? She asked herself.

Hearing no answer, she cried a little more.

“Peter, are you in here?” Tony’s voice asked.

“Yes, won’t be a minute.”

“Okay chap, I’ve had enough, so if you don’t mind, we’ll make a move. Archie’s just thrown up in the fireplace.”

Pru started to laugh, and managed to dress herself without too much trouble.

The others were as bad or worse than they, so after saying goodnight, they left.

“Look, old man, my place is closer than yours, why don’t you crash on the sofa, just for the night?” Tony said.

A sofa sounded heavenly to Pru so she heard herself agreeing. They arrived at a small mews and Tony’s flat was half way down on the right hand side. He fumbled with the key and managed to open the door.

It was a two bedroom flat, but one bedroom was full of computer equipment and loads of files. The living area was all open-plan.

“Sofa’s there, bathroom’s there, good night.”

Tony left her alone, and shut his bedroom door.

She sat on the sofa and took off her jacket and tie, loosening the cummerbund with some relief. Her right shirtsleeve was stained red with at least two glasses of wine that she’s ‘accidentally’ managed to flick down her sleeve to avoid drinking too much.

She went into the bathroom rinsed out the worst of the wine from the sleeve, and washed her face. She was conscious of that strange kind of numbness that alcohol has on the face.

She returned to the sofa, pulled up a tartan travel rug, and fell back, asleep almost immediately. She was still wearing her trousers and soggy shirt.

---

 
To Be Continued...