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by Tanya Allan This isn’t my autobiography. It is, however, a fictitious biography of someone very like me, or me if one or two things had happened differently. This is a WHAT IF scenario plus a lot of wishful thinking. |
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Author's Note:
This is a work of fiction, but some of the events, some of the people and most of the feelings and emotions are real. Some of the events were events that I experienced, while others were researched, and others are simply made up.
ALL names have been changed to protect the innocent. In 2005, I first posted an early version of this as a blog on my Yahoo 360 site, but removed it when Yahoo became silly about what they considered indecent. I used a photograph that they believed was for adults only and restricted viewing. I have since rewritten and revised it into its current form.
I know what is real and what isn’t.
I leave it to you to guess and wonder what is real and what isn’t.
Actually, it doesn’t matter, as it should stand alone as a good yarn. Please note, I have maintained my record for happy endings, even though the real ending has yet to be written.
It is tough to fly in the face of convention and social mores. It is tough to break away and to declare that you want to be you, in spite of what the world decrees you should be.
In 2008, the world read of Captain Ian Hamilton of the Parachute Regiment. He turned my fiction into reality by undergoing transition and surgery to become Jan.
I dedicate it to all those who have the courage to go with their convictions; and to those who stand by them, no matter how hard it might be. May God bless you all.
Tanya
Originally written in 2005, revised in 2008.
The Legal Stuff:To Fight for a Dream ©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. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited.
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 12. Bittersweet Remembrances
Anaesthetic does some serious shit to one’s brain. As I came round, I was convinced that I was back in the army and in the Falklands. Believing myself to have been shot in the head, I dimly recall muttering something about my mother and regretting never been brave enough to fight my father much earlier.
It can’t have much sense to the nurses, but then they probably heard all manner of strange ramblings in post-op. As I struggled through the fog mingled with nausea, pain and funny smells, I focussed on a face that swam uncertainly in front of my eyes. I was flat on my back staring straight up.
“Can you hear me?” said the face.
“Fuck off, my dream, not yours!”
The face smiled, for some reason I found it funny and started to laugh. I liked others finding me funny, so often my jokes fell flat, so I liked being appreciated.
“What’s your name?” the face asked.
“Name, rank and serial number, that’s all I’ll give you,” I said, giggling again.
“Stop being an arse, and tell me your name,” the face said, and even in my dopey state, I could tell he was getting pissed off with me.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to think. It was hard, as I was felling increasingly dizzy with my eyes closed, so I opened them again.
“Allan, Jam…, no, Jane Allan,” I replied, feeling foolish.
“What day is it?”
That one stumped me, so I frowned trying to concentrate. However, something unpleasant came up from down below, and my interrogation was suspended while I retched and produced a yellow bile into a small kidney dish that was held under my face.
With the vomit came some clarity.
“Friday 15th November 1985.”
“Well done. How do you feel?” asked Mr Simpson, my surgeon.
“That depends,” I replied.
“Oh, on what?”
“Whether you did it properly!”
He smiled again. “Oh, believe me; I did a good job on you. So, how do you feel?”
“Brilliant!” I replied, relaxing into a pain-relief sleep.
I woke up in the semi-darkness. For a moment, I was confused and disorientated, but as my memory returned, I relaxed and allowed myself to subside back onto my pillows. I recalled arriving at this private room, before my operation, only a few hours ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.
November 1985. It had just taken so bloody long to reach this point. I reached under the sheet to touch that part of me that was beginning to ache. All I discovered was a large bandage with a urinary catheter tube escaping to a delightful bag hanging by the bedside.
I was hardly comfortable, but relaxed, as all my efforts to date had been to reach this point. It was rather an anti-climax, as I expected trumpets and a feeling of wonderful euphoria. Instead, I felt queasy and pain.
Realising that one of the drips must be pain-relief, I allowed myself the luxury of drifting in and out of reality. In those moments, Martin came to visit, as did many people from my past, including, disturbingly, my father.
He was speechless with anger and hurt.
“How could you betray me like this?” he bellowed.
“Go away, you’re not really here!”
“No, and I’ll never be near you again, you perverse thing!”
He swirled away like an angry mist, out of which came Ray Carlyle riding a horse.
He was dressed in gleaming armour, with a helmet under one arm, its plume crimson and blue.
“Come away with me, Jane, and have my babies!”
“Go away, I can’t!” I shouted, at which point a nurse entered the room and asked me if I was awake.
I mean, how stupid is that question? If I was asleep, I wouldn’t hear her, and so I just had to say, “No, go away, I want to see Ray again.”
She wasn’t fooled for a minute.
“Oh, you are awake. How do you feel?”
“Asleep.”
She smiled grudgingly, so I shut my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. I couldn’t.
She fiddled about with me, making me more uncomfortable and feeling less content about life generally.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly six.”
I glared at her.
“In the evening,” she said. “Mr Simpson will be round in a while, just to see how you’re getting on.”
I was surprised, for my operation had been at eight in the morning. I lay back on the pillows and thought back on the weeks that led up to this moment.
The postman delivered the letter from the surgeon’s secretary on the day after I’d put Mark and Rod to bed. Could I be at the clinic on Thursday evening, the fourteenth of November?
November????
I rang her from the shop as soon as it was a reasonable hour.
No, the surgeon couldn’t manage to squeeze me in any earlier, as he was in Thailand, speaking at a transgender specialists’ conference until the tenth.
I was in the wrong job, this man seemed to travel all over the world, and I bet he never went economy!
After a while, I calmed down and reasoned that it wasn’t that long to wait, just over six weeks. I tried to call Suzannah, but couldn’t get through. She was probably in the middle of a shoot and wouldn’t be available until much later.
Life had to go on, so I settled back into the usual routine. Martin was busy and when I phoned, I could tell he was not in any mood to chat. Mark appeared at lunchtime, looking happier but hung-over. He sat down and accepted the black coffee that Julie made him.
“God, my head hurts!”
“Serves you right.”
“Tell me, how the hell did we get home?”
“I took you both in a cab. You owe me a tenner.”
Without a word, he took out his wallet, removed ten pounds and handed it to me.
“Thanks. I don’t remember much. Did you stop me getting into a fight?”
“Possibly.”
“Thanks.”
He drank his coffee in silence.
“How’s Rod?”
“Being sick.”
“How lovely.”
He almost smiled. “Thanks Jane, you’re a brick.”
“Wonderful, my ambition is achieved.”
The sarcasm wasn’t lost and he managed a full smile this time.
“Seriously, Jane, you were marvellous. But wasn’t there someone else, a man?”
“I had some help from another diner. He’d actually served with me in the army, but fortunately didn’t click.”
“No?” he asked, shocked and surprised.
“Yes, he remembered Jamie and quite fondly, I think. He also doesn’t like queers.”
Mark chuckled. “Neither do I, dear, horrible creatures for the most part.”
“You were both rather awful, you know?”
“I guessed that when I felt like shit this morning. How awful?”
“You will have to go and cross Carlo’s hand with quite a bit of silver. He put up with a lot. I was grateful you didn’t get us chucked out.”
He finished his coffee and stood up, looking at his watch.
“Right, I’ll go and sort Carlo out. How’s your German?”
“Working hard, we’ve rather put the pressure on.”
“Good, it means he’ll deliver on time. Punctual types, the Germans.”
Despite being impatient for my surgical appointment, life rolled on with inexorable tediousness in my view. I began to loathe the confines of my flat and the shop. I became increasingly testy with my friends and must have been awful company. Suzannah was conspicuous by her absence, while her black bags remain unopened in my spare room. We spoke occasionally, but her new man seemed to be taking most of her attention when not actually working.
Ray popped into the shop one afternoon, a couple of weeks after that first meeting. He looked very dapper in a pinstripe suit. He’d just been at a meeting at the Ministry of Defence and was now at a loose end for the rest of the day.
“How do you fancy going to the Savoy, they do tea and dancing?”
I stared at him, actually believing he was teasing me. He wasn’t.
“Tea and dancing?” I repeated.
“Yes, they have a small orchestra playing waltzes and such like, so you can enjoy tea and scones in between a nice dance.”
The shop was quiet and Julie was willing me to go with her eyes. She saw it as her quest in life to see me paired off to most men who came into the shop, despite me stating that I was involved with Martin.
“I can’t, I’ve to work,” I said.
“I’ll look after the shop, Jane, so why don’t you take the afternoon off?” Julie said.
I looked at Ray, his face not showing any sign that he knew my secret. I just knew this was a bad idea, as he was too close to my past.
“I don’t really dance,” I said.
“Then I’ll teach you.”
Running out of excuses and feeling somewhat nervous, I accepted.
“Can I stay like this, or do I need to change?” I asked.
He gazed at me, running his eyes up and down me. I was wearing a navy skirt, white blouse with a blue and gold embroidered waistcoat.
“You look wonderful to me, so stay are you are.”
I grabbed my coat and bag and almost was physically pushed out the front door by Julie, who winked at me conspiratorially.
He hailed a cab, so within a few minutes we were at the Savoy.
The atmosphere in the finer London hotels is slightly daunting for those who rarely venture into such hallowed portals. The simple elegance and opulence that welcomes one, from the uniformed doorman to all the staff and their plastic smiles, seems designed to weed out all but the very brave or the very rich. I attempted to look rich and sophisticated as we made our way to the ballroom where tea and dancing took place most days of the week.
It was a large room, with an elevated rostrum at one end, on which the small orchestra sat, playing a delightful selection of archaic music. The dance floor was encircled by small tables, where guests were enjoying tea from silver pots and in the finest bone china cups and saucers. Racks of cakes and scones were supplied, so it looked and sounded like something from the 1920s. One could imagine that the Empire was still in existence and that the sun never set on British interests.
We were shown to a table, where I placed my coat over the back of my chair. A waiter appeared and asked if I’d like it removed to the cloakroom. I declined.
Ray ordered tea and scones. Then he looked at me.
“Shall we?”
“Huh?”
He smiled. “Would you care to dance?”
“Not really, but if I have to.”
I wasn’t the only novice. I was also surprised at the variety of ages and types using the dance floor. There were several teenagers in jeans, so I felt a little better as I allowed Ray to lead me onto the floor for a waltz.
I had lied a little, as I had danced before, but always as a male, so was used to leading. I waited for him to adopt his position before I adjusted my stance accordingly. I felt awkward and embarrassed, convinced everyone was looking at me and laughing.
The first few moments were terrible. I got my feet all mixed up, started leading and generally made a complete cock-up. However, Ray was un-phased by my ineptitude and just kept going, causing me simply to follow the rhythm as he had a firm hold of me. After a couple of minutes, I started to relax and began enjoying myself.
We stopped when the tea arrived; sitting down for a few minutes while we drank it and ate a scone. I watched the other dancers, observing that I was by no means the worst.
“You dance very nicely, once you relaxed,” Ray said.
I grinned. “Thanks.”
“Tell me, why did you tell me you never dance? Doesn’t your gentleman friend ever take you dancing?”
“We’ve not had the opportunity. We only met recently and are sort of forced to be apart.”
“Oh?”
“He lives and works in Germany and I’m over here.”
“Is he a soldier?”
“No, he’s a German and makes furniture.”
“Oh.”
His face was a picture. I wondered what he’d have looked like if I’d said, ‘he’s a Martian.’ Not much different, I thought.
“How serious is it?”
I shrugged, unable to really answer him. I’d thought about it and was still so confused over life in general to make sense over Martin and his feelings, let alone my feelings for him.
“We’re very fond of each other. It’s only the start of a relationship, and there are complications.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not prepared to talk about them at the moment.”
“I understand. We make such a muck-up of relationships, as a rule, don’t we?”
I smiled, drinking my tea and not able to reply. I had never really formed any of those types of relationships in my life. I’d had to make it look as if I had girlfriends, but they hadn’t lasted as I never displayed to right level of commitment of affection.
“So, do you see your children often?” I asked.
“Yes, I suppose so. There’s very little acrimony now, so I get them for long stretches in the holidays when she wants to bugger off with her new man. I take them skiing in the Easter Hols and then try to go somewhere hot and sandy in summer. They get some excellent trips from the two of us.”
“Lucky children,” I said sarcastically.
He smiled, shaking his head.
“When not abroad, I usually take them to my parents’ home in Gloucestershire and stay there with them. I just have a flat in London and whatever digs the army give me wherever I happen to be. The old folks have a farm and loads of woodlands for them to lose themselves.”
“They’re teenagers, so I expect they hate it!”
“They do, but the alternative is too awful to imagine.”
“You mean having them in your flat in London, getting in the way of your social life, and spending your money in the shops and shows?”
He chuckled.
“You got it in one. Come on, I feel another dance is called for,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out for me.
It was a very pleasant way of spending the afternoon. My initial fears and reservations dissipated and I felt quite relaxed in his company. In fact, I quite forgot the time, and suddenly looked at my watch in horror. It was after six!
“I have to go, as the shop will need locking up!”
“Can’t the other woman do it?”
Of course she could, and often did, but that wasn’t the point.
“I ought to check.”
“Why? Has she no keys?”
“She has, but…”
“Then relax. I’m sure she’ll manage just fine. Besides, I’ve booked a table for dinner here at the grill.”
“What?”
“Well, it makes sense. We’re already here and I felt it was convenient. Have you somewhere else you must be?”
“No, but…”
“But?”
“You could have asked, as I may have had something arranged.”
“Do you?”
“That’s not the point!”
“Jane, will you have dinner with me?”
I thought about the rather dull quiche that was sitting limply in my fridge. As competition, it didn’t rate that high.
“Okay.”
“Phew, you don’t half make a man work his arse off!”
“Am I okay in these clothes?”
“I’d prefer it if you and I were naked, but under the circumstances I think that a trifle unwise. You look lovely.”
“You’re being too bloody diplomatic. I’ve been at work since eight o’clock, and you’ve had me dancing all afternoon, so I’m sweaty and hot. I need a shower and a change of clothes.”
“Do I detect a slight feeling of negativity towards my suit?”
“Your suit?” I asked. But then it dawned on me what he meant. I reddened.
“No, it’s not negativity towards you. It’s,.. it’s just I’m getting over, no, getting through a bad phase in my life so my first instinct is to be cautious.”
He looked at me. He looked so damn caring, it made me feel awful having to deceive him.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“No, well actually, in a funny sort of way, you are - just by getting me to do normal things.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No!” I said, as little too enthusiastically. “I mean, not yet, anyway. Thanks all the same.”
He reached across the table and took my hand. I was struck how much larger his hand was compared to mine. Maybe I should have been born female.
“Jane. Let me be clear about one thing. I have no ulterior motives. I just enjoy your company. I find you an intelligent and attractive woman, with whom, I sense, I have a good deal in common. Yes, I admit I am attracted to you, I’d have to be queer or mad not to be, but I’m not in the market for a wife at this moment. The last one took me to the cleaners, so I’m simply after a friend. You don’t need a shower, neither do you need to change. I’m proud to be seen with you, as dirty and smelly as you might think you are.”
Dinner was wonderful. We kept the conversation on lighter matters, but I found myself sharing some of my childhood and background with him, edited and censored as it was. He finally took me home at about eleven.
“Do you want to come up?” I asked.
“Do you want me to?”
I smiled. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. But I’m not about to sleep with you.”
“I want thinking about sleep, but I’ll come up for a coffee, if I may?”
I opened the door and he followed me up the stairs. I made some coffee and we sat on my small sofa drinking it. He rested one arm across the back, behind my neck. I was very aware of the pressure of his hand on my shoulder. I found I quite liked it, but all my fears and insecurities returned.
“Good coffee,” he said.
“No, it isn’t, it’s just instant.”
“You’re being defensive again.”
“Sorry.”
“What is an intelligent and attractive girl like you doing in a dump like this?”
“That’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it? Besides, this isn’t really a dump.”
“No, but somehow I see you in a much nicer environment. What went wrong?”
I laughed with little humour. “Everything. Look, Ray, I don’t want to dig up the past just now. Please, just let me scrabble through life my way and if you’re still talking to me in a year of two, maybe I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
“Don’t be. If you knew everything, you probably wouldn’t be seen for dust!”
“No, I doubt that.”
He touched my cheek with a finger, gently pulling my face round towards him. There were tears in my eyes; such was the depth of my frustration.
“Now, why do you cry?”
I shook my head, but then he kissed me.
He was very gentle and soft, but my first reaction was to leap up and run away. I was a coward, so instead I sat and let him kiss me. The fact that someone from James’ past thought me enough of a woman to kiss me made my heart sing. Also, I enjoyed his kiss.
I broke off.
“Jane, I…”
I put my finger to his lips.
“Thanks for a lovely day,” I said.
“Ah, I detect my cue to depart stage left.”
I smiled. “I had a wonderful time, and I’m so sorry that I’m so screwed up.”
“Compared to many of the women I’ve been out with, you are by far the most normal and sensible of the bunch.”
“That says very little about your taste in women.”
He laughed, but then kissed me again when I was off guard. This time he was far less restrained and I felt the passion building on both sides. I experienced feelings, both mental and physical that were alien and yet strangely familiar. I was almost becoming aroused for the first time since I’d started hormones, and yet not in the way I had done as James.
I broke off again, slightly breathless.
“It really is bedtime,” I said.
“Is that an invitation or my marching orders?”
I simply looked at him and he chuckled, standing up.
“Okay, I get the message. Goodnight, fair Jane, I hope we can do this again, soon?”
I simply nodded, as my emotions were all over the place. He kissed my cheek.
“I’ll see myself out. I’ll call you. Can I have your number?”
I gave it to him and he left without further comment. I felt instantly sorry he had gone, but knew that there was nothing else I could have done without risking everything.
He called me the next morning, and most mornings after that. We met occasionally at the Savoy for tea and a dance, and once a week we had dinner. It was so odd, for he treated me with the utmost respect, as if we were old friends, rather than new acquaintances. He always kissed me goodnight, yet never again with the same passion that I felt the first evening in my flat.
He must have been good for me, for everyone at work said I was no longer as grumpy as I had been, and Julie kept asking whether he’d popped the question yet.
By mid October, I was gearing myself up to tell him the truth, but he wrong footed me, yet again.
I was at work when he came into the shop. It was a horrible day, the winds and driving rain kept all but the most desperate shoppers away. We’d had nobody in the shop all morning.
“Hi, Ray, what brings you out on a day like this?”
“I’ve come to say goodbye.”
I was numb.
“Goodbye?”
He smiled, but it lacked any humour.
“I’m being sent to Northern Ireland for a special tour.”
“But you’re a Lieutenant Colonel, can they do that, I mean, just like that?”
“I’m being promoted to Brigadier and I’ve been given a command over there in the border country.”
“Wow, I mean, congratulations, or something.”
“Thanks.”
“When do you go?”
“Tomorrow.”
“That soon? Shit, talk about short notice.”
“They said it’s due to the security situation. Nothing will be announced until I get there.”
“So I’m the first to know?” I asked, joking.
“Yes, you are.”
“Gosh, what an honour.”
He came up to me and took both my hands.
“Jane, over the last few months, you’ve restored my faith in human kind, and for that you have my undying gratitude. You’ve also made me feel more content than I’ve been for a very long time, so I need to ask you something important.”
Oh shit! I thought, here it comes.
“Yes?” I said.
“I have to admit to have become more than a little fond of you, so I was initially going to ask you to marry me, but saw that that was ridiculous at present, so I’d like to ask whether there is any chance for us, I mean, when I get back?”
“Ridiculous?” I asked, picking up on that one word.
“I would never expect a girl to marry me just before I go to Ireland on active service.”
“Oh.” I was speechless.
“I need to know how you feel about me.”
“Feel about you?” I repeated, sounding faintly foolish.
“Yes, Jane. I’ve fallen for you, and need to know it’s not one-sided.”
“Oh.”
“Well?”
“Shit, Ray, this sort of puts me on a spot, doesn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, but I need to know.”
“Well, um, it’s not as easy as it seems. I’m fond of you too, and in other circumstances, I’m sure a relationship is more than possible, but there are things about me you don’t know, and I could never go any deeper unless everything is clear. I’m not saying I don’t like you, I do, I may even be a little in love with you, but the problem is with me. I can’t tell you now, but just let’s just say that I need some work done before I can ever think about a lasting relationship.”
“Work?”
“Work in the plumbing department, need I say more?”
“Oh, work. Oh, right, okay, um, I see, I think.”
“No, Ray, you don’t see. Look, I will always be your friend, but for the moment, can you be happy with that? In a year, things might be a little different, but until then, that’s all I can promise. The last thing I want is to cause you hurt, and believe me, a relationship with me might not be very wise. So, you go off to Ireland, and I’ll be here, as a friend for you to return to. If things change, then you’ll be the first to know, so please be content with that.”
“I don’t understand, I thought you might feel the same about me as I do you.”
“I never said I didn’t, Ray. I just said that I can’t act upon feelings right now.”
“Why not?”
Call me stupid, call me reckless, call me whatever you like, but so help me I told him the truth. I told him the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
I finished with, “Now do you see why I can’t screw up your life as much as I’ve managed to screw up mine? Don’t worry, I do understand that you’ll never want to see me again, I’d just ask that you keep this to yourself, no matter how vile a person you think I am.”
With that, I couldn’t wait for his reaction, so I fled in tears up to my flat before he could respond.
I heard the shop bell jingle as he left. That was it.
Chapter 13. A Reflection of Who I am Now
Mr Simpson, the surgeon, came to see me as predicted by the nurse. He was in his suit again, displaying no sign that he’d been operating all day.
“Hallo, Jane, how d’ya feel?”
“Sore and sick, how am I supposed to feel?”
“Sore and sick. Let’s have a peek and see how you’re doing.”
He poked around my nether regions, sucking air through his teeth.
“Okay, there’s no sign of infection at this early stage, it all looks fine. A little raw but soon not even your gynaecologist will know I’ve been there. The stitches will dissolve over the next week nor so, and then it’s just a matter of using your dilators and healing up nicely. I’ll pop back tomorrow and take out the packing. Hopefully, we can take out the plumbing and let you pee by yourself. Then you can see what miracles we’ve achieved.”
“Were there any problems?”
“None at all, it all went very well. You should be able to accommodate your boyfriend with no difficulty and hopefully, in time, you should attain a full range of sensation. It is not unknown for orgasms to be experienced, but don’t expect it over night.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” I said, a little crossly.
“I know that, but I’m just making the point that you are now as normal a woman as we can possibly make you. By the way, your boobs look super now, a bit bigger than you expected?”
“Marginally, but I’m not complaining.”
“Excellent. Well, try to sleep, I know it’s not that easy the first night, but once we remove the packing, you should feel the difference immediately.”
He breezed out as swiftly as he had entered, leaving me with a host of unasked questions that my doped brain was only beginning to formulate. The nurse came in.
“Is there anything you’d like?”
“A cold beer?” I asked hopefully.
Smiling, she brought me a plastic cup of tepid water.
“Has anyone called?” I asked.
“Three calls, a Mark, a Suzannah and one from another man, whose name I can’t recall. I told them you were through the operation and weren’t fit to take calls tonight.”
She made me as comfortable as she could, which, under the circumstances wasn’t that pleasant. However, with the cocktail of painkillers and the anaesthetic that was still in my system, I was able to doze. During those moments that I was awake, I thought of the last few weeks before my operation.
Ray went to Northern Ireland, and I heard nothing from him. I hoped and prayed he’d respect my wishes and tell no one about me. He was an honourable man, so he might well despise me, but I trusted him not to reveal my secrets to anyone else. I told myself he’d do it because the truth could hurt him as much as me, but I still hurt badly over what happened.
One morning in late October, at around six a.m., I was awoken by the sounds of air-brakes and loud voices. On opening my window and staring down into the street, I saw an enormous German truck blocking most of the road. It was our latest delivery of furniture.
I dressed quickly in a pair of jeans, tee shirt and a jumper, then pulled on some boots and brushed my hair into some semblance of order. Minutes later, I opened the shop door and found myself facing a grinning Martin.
“Hi Jane, it’s me!” he said, rather unnecessarily in my opinion.
Before I could kick-start my sleep addled brain into action, he was hugging and kissing me.
“I miss you!” he said.
“That’s missed, - you missed me, you daft German,” I said, automatically correcting him.
Forty minutes later, I had three sweaty and unshaven Germans in my small kitchen drinking coffee, while I cooked them some breakfast.
The cabinets were now stacked in the back area of the shop, which would severely hamper anyone’s attempt to work in there for a while.
“Is so good to see you again,” said Martin, much to his colleagues’ amusement. I just hoped I didn’t look too awful.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?” I asked.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you managed that. How long are you here for?”
“The truck goes home now, but I want to stay with you for a few days. Is that all right?”
What could I say?
“Of course, if you don’t mind the sofa, or sleeping withy loads of black bags.”
His face displayed his incomprehension, so I explained about Suzannah.
His two friends finished their breakfast and departed in the now empty truck to a warehouse in Bromley. They were due to collect another load destined for Germany, and then to catch the ferry home. I showered and got ready for work as Martin lay on the sofa and went to sleep.
It was strange having him staying with me. He came down to the shop at noon, giving Julie the giggles. The fact I had two men in my life was the cause of great mirth for her.
Martin was fortunate to see two of his cabinets sold while he was with me, and he seemed pleased to be able to see the result of his labour being successfully sold so far from home. The first evening, Steven and Sarah asked us to dinner. But after that I cooked for him in my little flat. He didn’t seem eager to go out in any case.
He seemed smaller and younger than I recalled. I guessed that being involved with Ray for those few weeks had given me a difference perception.
“I have my operation date,” I told him.
He didn’t seem as pleased as I thought he would have been, but he still said he was. He wanted to sleep with me, but I wasn’t willing to let that happen, even with him, yet. I tried to explain it, but he went in a bit of a mood with me.
As I lay in bed, alone, on the third night, I wondered what had made him change so much in the few weeks since we’d last seen each other.
I then realised that I’d changed, not him.
He was still trying to recapture that girl/boy he’d met all those years ago, while I was doing my best to bury what I had been then. He was living with a dream of the past, while my eyes were fixed on the future.
Our conversations were limited to the trivial and mundane, never going deep into anything. It was then that it dawned on me that our relationship wasn’t destined to be anything more than friends. However, the operation might change all that. For I still felt very fond of him, and I enjoyed being with him. Why did I keep thinking of Ray?
Martin returned to Germany three days after arriving. He told me he still loved me, but we both realised that something had changed. I wasn’t willing to admit it was me, just in case it was a passing phase.
November seemed to arrive at a crawl, just because I had the fourteenth ringed in big, thick, red felt-tip pen. Julie still didn’t know, so when Steven let slip I was going in for an operation it required quick thinking to avert an embarrassing moment. Sarah alluded to the possibility of me having a hysterectomy, or similar, without actually being specific. That was enough for Julie to regurgitate, at great length and in gruesome detail, the series of gynaecological explorations she’d undergone.
On the 13,sup>th, Mark and Rod were great, taking me out for a lovely meal at Carlo’s (who was back on speaking terms with the drunken idiots). I got back to my flat late and rather pickled.
I slept late on the morning of the 14th, as I didn’t know how well I’d sleep after the operation. I packed my little case, spoke to my mother on the phone and wrote a few letters. I spent some time in the shop, enjoying the company of my friends for a few hours, and then I called for a taxi.
While I was waiting for the cab, my flat phone rang.
“Hello Jane, it’s Ray.”
“Hi,” I said, slightly reserved. There was a pause on the other end.
“Sorry about…, you know, just sorry,” he said. The awkwardness of the conversation was tangible.
“That’s okay. It was my fault, I suppose.”
“Forget it. You, you surprised me; that’s all. It’s so hard to imagine you as Jamie.”
“Yeah, I surprised me as well. I hadn’t planned to reveal all so soon.”
I heard him laugh, and tears came to my eyes.
“Look, it gave me a lot to think about, just when everything went haywire. Did you see the news?” he asked.
I had, but then we’d been bombarded by news of IRA terrorism for so long we just switched of to it all. There’d been several incidents in the borders where several terrorists were killed and some soldiers wounded. It had happened within days of Ray being posted into the area.
“Yes.”
“I’ve been rather busy.”
“I guessed that. I have been thinking of you, actually.”
“Oh yes?”
“Every night as I go to bed, as it happens.”
He coughed, stressing the tension.
“Look, I’m not sure quite how to put this, but would you be offended if we stayed friends?”
“Friends? No, why should I? I’d understand better if you never wanted to see me again.”
“That occurred to me, initially, but I’m afraid you sort of got to me.”
“Got to you?”
“This isn’t easy for me, as the whole situation is so surreal, but you’re a very special person. To do what you’re doing, and the way you’ve gone about it says a lot.”
“Yeah, I’m completely daft, right?”
He laughed again. “I’ve been thinking over everything that you said, and I am so sorry that I just walked out. I can’t have helped.”
“That’s okay, I sort of expected it.”
“You shouldn’t have, it’s a poor reflection on the way society looks at life and problems like yours. I was selfish, thinking only of me. Now I’ve had time to reflect, I realise how much harder it must be for you. I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t respond, as by this time the tears were coursing down my cheeks.
“Jane? Are you okay?”
“No,” I managed, quite truthfully.
There was silence for a moment, as I heard him talking to someone else. I took the time to try to control myself. It almost worked.
“Jane?”
“I’m okay now. Sorry.”
“No, you have nothing to be sorry about. Look, I have to go, but I’m aware that you’ve an important day tomorrow, so I called to tell you that I’m thinking about you and am wishing you well. I’ll pray for you and when I get back, I’ll take you out for dinner, if you’ll come with me?”
The tears started again, but I managed to stammer an affirmative reply.
“Good, then we’ll make a day of it, how do you fancy a dance at the Savoy first?”
“I’d love to, but only if you really want to. Not if you’re just feeling sorry for me and feel you have to.”
“Oh Jane, you daft brush, of course I feel guilty and sorry about all kinds of things, but I only have the deepest admiration for your determination and courage to go through what you are doing. I can’t begin to imagine how hard things are for you, particularly with your father being as awful as he appears to be. Look, I really have to go. All the best for tomorrow, and I’ll be in touch again, I promise.”
We said goodbye and then my taxi arrived. With my spirits slightly elevated, I left my flat and wondered how different I would see things on my return.
A different nurse of oriental origins woke me at some ungodly hour the morning after my operation. It was still dark outside, and as I woke up, the aches hit me. It wasn’t sharp pain, more a feeling of being kicked in the crotch by a mule.
“Morning Jane, how are we today?”
“I don’t know about you, but I feel like shit!”
She chuckled, unmoved by my obvious suffering.
“Doctor coming in at nine, so we have to get you ready.”
“Great, what’s for breakfast?” I said, as sarcastically as possible.
“What do you want?” she asked, calling my bluff.
“Just some fruit juice, I don’t feel up to solids just yet.”
The morning passed in a series of busy moments interspersed with lengthy periods of lying about being uncomfortable. My dressings were changed, the doctor hummed and hawed and had the packing removed, instructing me on the use of the dilators. I still felt abused by some equine sadist, so hardly felt like undertaking great feats of exercise or even little ones.
I was permitted to view the surgeon’s handiwork. I’m not sure what I expected, but the absence of what had given me so much heartache was glorious to behold.
I looked odd, not male, but still odd.
My crotch was battered and bruised, red raw in places, puffy and swollen in others, and all of it covered in a yellow stuff that I was later told was in an attempt to prevent infection. In short, I looked a mess.
“The stitches will dissolve, but I told you that, didn’t I?” the surgeon said.
“Yes, you did. Will hair come back?”
“Yes, and the swelling will subside in a few days. Once the hair grows, all the scars will be hidden. As you get older and grow into your new equipment, the scarring will blend into the natural creases of flesh. Apart from the lack of a cervix, there will be little to show anyone that you haven’t always been female.”
It was at that precise moment that I felt all the waiting, all the pain and all the misery was worthwhile. I lay back on the pillows and grinned at the world.
In the afternoon, Mark and Rod appeared with an enormous bunch of flowers. Their visit cheered me up enormously, making me feel almost human. I took a stilted phone call from Martin in Germany, who wished me well and said he would be over to see me when he first got a chance. I wasn’t so bothered any more, but daren’t express it. I was still uncertain about us, but felt guilty about my uncertainty.
On the third day, Ray called, so I spent half an hour talking to him. We talked about so many things. He spoke of mutual friends and colleagues from the army, about whom he now felt it was okay to speak to me. I was amazed that I didn’t feel awkward about it, indeed, was pleased to be able to have something else in common with him. I only stopped because Suzannah popped her head round my door and came whirling into my room like a demented tornado. I felt pleased to see her, but sorry that my call to Ray had to end.
After six days, the surgeon was pleased with my progress, (please don’t remind me about those damn dilators) so I was discharged to return to my little flat. I still saw the world in the same way, it was just I felt I was finally as I was meant to be.
Chapter 14. Coming To Terms With My Past
That almost brings me up to my visit home, with which I started this tome. The three months between having the operation to the point where I felt strong enough to face my father, were the least exciting in my life, but I felt as if the hardest part was over. I wasn’t wrong, but then I wasn’t altogether right either.
Initially, I felt an enormous feeling of euphoria, which turned into a feeling of anti-climax. They said my hormones would give me a roller-coaster ride, and they were right. I lost the energy I had before, partially due to not having anything to aim for. I had no specific goal to which I could struggle, so I lost a degree of oomph. As a result, I slacked going to the gym, ate too much, so put on weight and was probably a bit of a lazy cow.
Some positive things happened, as my new passport, bank papers and drivers licence arrived, saying I was now Miss Jane Allan and female. Legally, however, I was still male and not entitled to change my birth certificate. English law still forbade me to marry a male, but perversely, I could marry a female to male transsexual. Things were different in some other countries, but Britain wasn’t due to change for a number of years.
It was the 21st of February that turned me around. I was in the shop, as usual, on a cold and miserable Tuesday, and no customers were venturing forth. It was trying to rain and snow at the same time, so I was grateful that I lived over the shop.
I was talking with Julie about some curtains she was making for a client when the front doorbell jingled.
I went out to see who was stupid enough to be out on a day like this.
I stopped and stared. It was Ray. Julie coughed and suddenly found an excuse to go see her husband out the back.
“Hello Jane, still as attractive as ever, I see.”
“Ray.”
“Yes. That’s my name.”
“You came.”
He looked around the shop and then back at me.
“Looks like I must have done. How are you?”
“Fat.”
“A little plump, perhaps, but once you get back to the gym and come dancing, you’ll soon lose it and be trim again.”
We’d spoken on the phone every couple of weeks, so I’d confessed to having become a bit of a slob.
“Does it all work properly?” he asked, his gaze travelling towards my lower regions.
I grinned, feeling embarrassed and going red at the same time.
“I don’t know. It pees all right, but I haven’t had the opportunity to test anything else. The doctor told me that I couldn’t use it for at least twelve weeks, in any case. But then there’s the problem of not actually having anyone to use it with.”
It was his turn to become embarrassed, which he covered by taking his coat off, showing that he was in number two uniform underneath. The red tabs on his collar, his gleaming Sam Browne and knife-edge creases made him look very dashing.
“Gosh, do I have to salute?”
“We have a date, remember?”
“A date?”
“Dancing and then dinner. I’m a bit early so I thought we’d have lunch as well.”
“How long are you back for?”
“I’m not sure. I’m back for a meeting at the MOD.”
“Why?”
“There’s been a reshuffle and my post has been reorganised. A Lieutenant Colonel is taking over my role. I’m not sure what they’ll offer me. Possibly the Falklands, as Maggie is initiating loads of cuts.”
“Bummer,” I said with a grin.
“I’m seriously considering jacking it in.”
“Why?” I asked, surprised, as he was only forty-six, so had many years ahead of him.
“It looks like I may be offered the posting to the Falklands for two years, but I’m not that keen to go. My father has asked me if I want to take over the farm. He’s seventy-two this year, so he thinks he’s not able to do it anymore. He wants to retire. If I don’t he’ll have to sell up, and that’ll be a tragedy.”
“Farm?” I asked, my nose wrinkling. “I can’t see you in green wellies mucking out the pigs at six in the morning.”
“I’ll leave that to my wife,” he joked.
I didn’t find it funny, and for the first time realised just what I actually felt about him.
“Wife?”
He laughed and walked over to me. He gently kissed my cheek.
“You really don’t look like a young man I used to work with at all. Don’t worry, I haven’t asked her yet.”
“Her, what her?” I asked, knowing that I sounded like a jealous mistress.
“There is no her, I was speaking hypothetically.”
I held him then, resting my cheek against his shoulder. His uniform smelled of mothballs.
“Have you never been to the Falklands?” I asked.
“Oh yes. I was there, but not with the Paras.”
“I thought you might have been; the SAS?”
“Can’t tell you, my dear, still classified.”
“Bollocks!”
“Yes, with the SAS, although I was at a cosy little base in Chile while the chaps went and did their stuff.”
“I was there.”
“I know, I did a bit of research, you did well.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to be reminded of that part of my life, if that’s okay with you.”
“I understand. So, back to me; I’m in two minds, as I’m no farmer, but with all the cuts feel it’s the right time to jump before the damn government pushes me. I’m not destined for senior command and I’m not sure I want it, to be honest.”
“You’re young for your rank, surely you could go higher?”
“One gets a feel for these things. There are those around who have caught the eye of those responsible for making high appointments. Even in the army, one has to be a politician, and I may be many things, but I’m not one of them.”
“I’m sure you’d make a success of whatever you do.”
“Thanks, so, enough about that, where do you fancy for lunch?”
So, Ray and I started out from scratch, as if nothing happened. He then accepted a short posting to SHAPE in Belgium. In the meantime, Martin’s calls became less frequent, but he still claimed to love me to bits. He had a funny way of showing it. During which time I started working out again, and headed north to face down my father.
“I’m going to hate this!” I told my mother, in the car to the lunch.
“You’ll be fine, dear.”
“They’ll see me as a freak!”
“No they won’t, I promise.”
“Dad does, so why shouldn’t they?”
“Your father is a bigoted idiot, and these are my friends.”
“He’s your husband,” I said, regretting it as soon as I’d said it.
“That was cruel and unnecessary, Jane.”
“I’m sorry, but he didn’t even come home to face me.”
“He’s afraid.”
“Of me, whatever for?”
“Everything. You’re so much stronger than he.”
“How?”
“He never fought for anything in his life. He saw the end of the war and then went into the family firm. The money was already there, the house was his way of putting his ego onto the map, and yet you’ve done things by yourself. In a perverse way he’s jealous of you.”
“Jealous? Of me? Come off it, no one would ever envy what I’ve had to endure. Do you think I wanted this, or even asked for it?”
“Well, you’ve managed very well, in the face of awful adversity. And have a foreign boyfriend,” she said with a little smile.
“He’s not really a boyfriend.”
“You said he was.”
“He’s a man I met and we like each other. Actually, I’ve met someone after him.”
“Oh?”
“You’d approve, but I can’t see it coming to anything, as he’s too respectable to hitch up with someone like me.”
We stopped and picked up Aunt Mary. Our conversation took a downward turn as she wanted to know whether I was fully functioning, and if not, why not.
Lord and Lady Roberts of Drumfettle lived in a huge old Scottish manor house, complete with towers and turrets. The drive up to the house was a good mile long, and the shrill calls of the peacocks could be heard long before one could see the house.
There were several cars already on the gravel outside the front of the house, and I couldn’t recall being so terrified, ever. Even in the Falklands, I had not experienced fear such as this!
I wore a simple navy skirt with matching jacket over a pale blue blouse, tights and court shoes with heels. My mother had told me that I looked delightful, but I feared I’d make every mistake in the book.
I walked in behind my mother and aunt, hoping to be as invisible as possible. Other cars were arriving as we entered, and I saw that fifteen or so women were already in the drawing room having drinks. My attempt of being invisible didn’t work for long, for our hostess saw us and came over.
“Ah, Catherine, lovely of you to come, and Mary, and this must be Jane, how super to see you again,” she said.
I shook her hand, observing her critical eye as she looked me up and down.
“Gracious, who would ever have thought it? You look simply wonderful, my dear. Charlotte is simply dying to see you, she’s outside with the dogs, do go and see her, there’s a love,” she said.
I smiled, managing to escape to the kitchen and from there out to the back area outside. The cool March air was so refreshing, so I stopped and took some deep breaths for a while. On hearing the dogs barking, I made my way across the yard to the side of the stable block and kennels. It was so odd being here as Jane, for the last time I’d been here was as an eighteen year-old young man. I caught my reflection in the windows. I certainly didn’t look anything like that man now.
Charlotte was an attractive girl with auburn hair and a full figure. We’d dated a couple of times, more out of duty to parents than anything else. In fact, we’d got on very well as friends and never thought of becoming further involved.
She was dressed in a yellow tee shirt, a blue denim pinafore dress and wellies. The sight made me smile, as she always flew in the face of fashion trends. A large and very muddy Flat-coat wanted to play while Charlotte was trying to put her in a kennel. The dogs normally had the run of the house, but when guests came, it was far easier to put them in the kennel for the duration, as six retrievers running amok in amongst all those people was not to be encouraged.
I took a deep breath.
“Hello Charlie,” I said.
“Hi, won’t be a sec, just let me finish with Silky.”
She didn’t turn round, but grabbed the dog and physically hauled her into the kennel, closing the door.
Only then did she turn round, wiping her brow with her forearm.
“Shit, that dog is so bloody awkward. Hello,” she said, frowning. “Have we met?”
“Oh yes, but you won’t remember me like this.”
She gazed at me for a moment, then her expression changed and her mouth opened.
“Bloody hell, Jamie, no, Jane, isn’t it? Shit, you look fantastic. Mum told me all about you, but I’d never have guessed. How lovely to see you,” she literally ran over to me and hugged me. I felt the tears of relief well up in my eyes.
Returning with her to the house, I felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. She was so curious as to what had happened to me since we last saw each other, but she also hardly shut up for a moment so I just waited for her to run out of steam.
Also, I had to wait for her to change out of her wellies and then we went in together to the daunting den of women. She grabbed a gin and tonic from the large table of drinks as we passed.
“Here, take this, you’ll need it,” she said, handing it to me and taking another for herself.
My mother had been right, but in a way, so had I. No one in the room missed my entrance, as they all ‘casually’ glanced my way, and critically appraised my appearance. I felt under the microscope like at no other time in my life. However, the level of conversation didn’t alter, and no one screamed and pointed at me, so I felt slightly better.
One by one, I circulated round the room with Charlotte by my side. These were all women I knew well, being the mothers and grandmothers of my friends, for the most part. They had all known me as James, so all were equally curious to meet me as Jane.
My mother and aunt didn’t interfere, they simply watched, but I could sense my mother was as nervous as was I. I was open and honest about my experiences and feelings, and at one point found a circle of eight women all listening with rapt attention to my descriptions of various periods of my life, including my operations and initial steps out as Jane.
I could sense that one or two of them didn’t really approve, but their curiosity got the better of them. I found myself repeating the same statement over and over again, “I never chose what I felt; I just wasn’t meant to be a boy. The pull to be female destroys everything else, so I had only two real alternatives — to change or die. Had I been given a choice to be male without the desire to be female, or to be female, I’d have taken the first choice, but I wasn’t that lucky.”
Lunch was a buffet style, so, after collecting my main course, I found myself sitting with Charlotte and one of the few women I didn’t know.
“Jane, this is Ginny Houseman, from London. Ginny is an old school-chum of mums, so they go way back.”
Ginny was of my mother’s age, but there the similarity ended. She looked to be in her forties, until one got close enough to see the age marks on her skin around her neck. Even so, she was wonderfully preserved, as Mark would say. Dressed completely in black, she looked faintly gothic, as if she had a part in a horror movie, but it matched her long black hair and wonderful jade jewellery.
“Ginny is a writer,” Charlotte told me.
“Ah, what type?” I asked.
“I write novels and short stories. I also edit a woman’s magazine. How about you?”
“Jane was a soldier who fought in the Falklands, but she now runs a shop in the West End,” said Charlotte, as I was working out how to explain.
“Ah, Margaret did mention something about a sex change, now it is all clear. Catherine Allan’s your mother, isn’t she?”
“Yes, why?”
“You only had the operation recently, yes?”
“Last November, so?”
“What a fascinating story, have you considered writing your autobiography?”
“Not really, I don’t think I’m old enough to write that yet.”
“It would make a super serial for a magazine, would you consider it?”
“I’d not thought about it. Do I understand you’re based in London?”
“My offices are just off Sloane Street, do you know that part of the world?”
I was suddenly able to talk about my new life, my life in London, such as it was. The prospect of serialising my story was suddenly quite attractive. But the end wasn’t written yet.
The lunch was nowhere near as gruesome as I had expected, particularly as Charlotte was so friendly and sympathetic. In fact, I found it profoundly emotional, as these women, with all their prejudices and failings, accepted me for who I was now, rather than what I had been.
As we drove home, it was about four in the afternoon. I knew that the next event was my showdown with my father. I was under no illusions, fully expecting no change and to be finally rejected by him.
I adored my mother, who had been as supportive as possible, under the circumstances. Short of leaving him, there was no real way of her being allowed to get closer to me, both geographically and practically. The psychologist told me that if he decided that I wasn’t his offspring, and he was unwilling to acknowledge my existence, that that was his loss. I would have done everything and could feel no regret over my actions.
That was balderdash, as I felt enormously guilty and regretted so many decisions. The over-riding decision to become Jane was one I did not regret, but it didn’t stop me feeling guilty.
His car was in the drive when we returned. It was a brand new Jaguar, in keeping with his perception of his importance in life.
“Your father’s home,” My mother said.
“I can see.”
“Would you like me to ease the way?” asked Mary from the back.
“No, this has to be a frontal assault, and I need to show no fear.”
She gripped my shoulder, signifying her support. “We’ll be right beside you, all the way.”
My mother parked the car and we got out. I reflected on the amount of terrifying situations into which I placed myself recently.
He was in his study. A room lined with dark wooden bookcases and a red leather chair behind a mahogany desk. The door was open and he stared at me as I filled the doorway. I felt amazingly calm, as I’d been preparing for this meeting for a very long time.
“Hello, dad,” I said.
He stared at me for a while, saying nothing, but I could see the muscles in his neck twitching.
“What do you want here?” he finally asked. The first words he’d actually spoken to me in two years.
“I’ve come home to settle things between us, once and for all.”
“You look like a clown,” he said.
“Possibly, but then that’s only your opinion. Others have been more accepting and supportive.”
“Humph, they know nothing.”
“Again, that’s your opinion.”
“Is that going to be your answer to everything?” he asked, his voice faintly mocking, yet also uncertain.
“That depends on what you have to say. I’ve been through a tough couple of years, without you even acknowledging my existence, so I thought it fair to allow you the opportunity to tell me to fuck off to my face.”
“That language is wholly inappropriate.”
“Possibly, but that’s what I’m expecting.”
“How little you know me.”
“Really? Based on my experience, I’d say I’ve more than enough grounds to expect you to be un-accepting and opposed to me and who I now am. Most fathers, even if they disapprove of the life choices of their children, will at least accept that those children have the right to make those choices and mistakes without interference and in love. You’ve so far done neither, so what makes you think I can expect you to change?”
He turned his back on me, and I felt that was the end. I was about to turn round and walk away, when he replied.
“You hurt me dreadfully, you know?”
“Oh, and you didn’t hurt me?”
“That’s not relevant.”
I laughed, making him turn round. Anger was distorting his face now, as he became red in the face and his voice gained in volume.
“How dare you come to my house, dressed as a tart, wiggling your false titties and lack of manhood, and say I’m at fault!”
Keeping my voice even and low, I answered.
“Firstly, there’s no need to shout. Secondly, I disagree that I’m dressed inappropriately, and thirdly, I haven’t wiggled anything. Neither did I say you were at fault, as I accept the responsibilities of my decisions, do you?”
He struggled to maintain control, but wasn’t winning the battle.
“You had everything going for you, a good career, a gallant history and real potential. Why did you throw it all away to become, to become, to become, this - a travesty of a human, neither one thing nor another?”
“I am only twenty-nine, so my life is ahead of me. My history is still my history should I decide to use it, and my options are as many as varied as they’ve always been. The only difference is that I am now happy to be the person I should have been at birth. I’m a woman, dad, I always was, deep down inside. Only now, I can be that woman in everything but actually conceiving and carrying a child. It’s what I want, why aren’t you pleased for me?”
“How can you be happy, as this? You could have had so much more!”
“I don’t know, dad, I just am. It’s like a dream come true, which would be so much better if my own father could see beyond his ego for a second and rejoice in his daughter’s happiness.”
I didn’t mean to be so cruel, but the barbs went home. He crumpled into his chair, turning away to face the wall. The audience was over.
Chapter 15. For A Lady's Honour
I walked straight into the kitchen and burst into tears on my mother’s shoulder. It occurred to me that I cried an awful lot these days.
“That went well, then,” said Aunt Mary, with a deep chuckle. “Shall I go and see him? I could talk sense into the silly old sod.”
“No, leave him,” said my mother. “He’ll probably have to think about things for a while. It isn’t often he hears the truth.”
“You heard?” I asked, composing myself.
Mary handed me a cup of tea.
“Every blessed word; and you did marvellously, dear.”
It became a waiting game, with the three of us in the kitchen, listening to the clock ticking on the wall, and my father in his study, wrestling with who know what.
My dearest wish was for him to accept me as his child. It didn’t matter how grudgingly or disapprovingly. If he couldn’t do that, then my business here was over.
“I can’t take this any longer!” said Aunt Mary. “I’m going to see what the silly bugger thinks he’s playing at.”
I opened my mouth to ask her not to, but felt as stressed as was she, so let her go. After a moment, we could hear her speak to my father, but not loud enough to pick up what was being said.
“I shouldn’t have come,” I said to my mother, who simply hugged me.
“You did the right thing. This had to be dealt with one way or another!”
“Yes, I know but, if I hadn’t come, then…”
“No dear, there’s more here than just you and who you have now become. He has to see that life is bigger than just him and what he wants out of it. Our marriage has been pretty awful at times, but I’ve never wanted for much. You made my life complete, as before you came along, I thought the marriage was over. Your arrival brought a new lease of life to us both, and you gave me a reason to keep going. That reason is still there, but whether I stay with him, well, that depends on him.”
I felt real anguish and guilt, so started to cry. She simply enveloped me in her arms.
“I always wanted a girl, but you were still my wonderful baby, regardless of gender. I love you as much now as I did when you were born, so never ever blame yourself for things you had no control over. I don’t blame anyone, as we all make decisions and have to live with the consequences. Actually, I think you are so brave to have done what you have done, so just remain my child and let me love you until I die.”
What can one say to that?
I cried, sobbing into her shoulder.
Aunt Mary came back into the kitchen, looking angry.
“Well?” my mother asked.
“He’s a pig-headed arse at times.”
“So, no change there,” I said, at a weak attempt at humour.
“He can’t see further than the end of his bloody nose, it’s so infuriating.”
“I can understand. He had such hopes for me, it must be so hard when your dreams are shattered,” I said.
“Oh, Jane, you’re too gracious,” she said.
“Not really, you see, he’d put me on this pedestal, so now I’ve jumped off, by my own choice, he’s left with nothing. His life has nowhere left to go, so he was going to live his dreams out in my life. So, now I’ve buggered his dream it’s little wonder he’s in a sulk.”
“Perhaps, but if he could be made to see that we aren’t all on Earth for his benefit, then progress could be made.”
“You can’t change an old dog,” said my mother with a sad smile.
“I think I’ll head south again tomorrow. My presence here will bring nothing but pain.”
“Oh, Jane, not so soon, surely?”
“I think so, you see, I needed to know whether he’d accept me. Now I know that I’m not welcome in his house, I don’t feel I can stay.”
Mum just nodded, tears rolling gently down her face. I felt that guilt and shame again. Regret over my selfishness was tugging away at my conscience. If I’d just stayed as I was, then this pain wouldn’t exist.
“Don’t ever think like that. The pain you carried was too great, so you did the only thing you could, so never ever think that!” Aunt Mary appeared to read my thoughts. I gaped at her in some surprise.
“How…?”
“It was logical, you actually care about others more than yourself, unlike your father, so I knew exactly what was going through your mind.”
The phone rang, effectively curtailing our discussion. Mother answered it, but then looked at me strangely.
“Jane, it’s for you.”
Frowning, I took the phone from her. I’d told Mark where I was going, but no one else.
“Who is it?” I mouthed at my mother.
She shrugged.
“Hello?”
“Jane, it’s Ray.”
Now I remembered the only other person I’d told where I was going. But he didn’t count, as he was in Brussels.
“Ray, is anything the matter?” I asked, worried, because something serious must have happened for him to call from Europe.
“I just wanted you to know that I was thinking about you. How’s it going?”
I’d been so strong so far, but simply hearing his voice made me cry. I felt such a fool, but Mother and Aunt Mary left me alone.
“Oh God, it’s been awful. He just refuses to acknowledge me at all.”
“So it was a complete waste of time?”
“Not entirely, as Mum’s been brilliant, as has my aunt. I went out to lunch with a load of her old friends. It was rather daunting, as they all knew me before, you know what. I was amazed as how accepting most of them seemed to be of me, and what I’ve done. I even bumped into an old girlfriend.”
“Really, how did she take to the new you?”
“Charlotte was superb, better than I could have ever hoped, we’ve sort of become friends.”
“So why was the trip so awful?”
“My father, he’s being a pig-headed bastard. I so wanted to be able to explain everything so he’d understand and then come simply to acknowledge who I am now. I didn’t expect him to suddenly welcome me with open arms, but he just shut me out. He blames me for ruining his life. His life! I ask you, Ray, why the fuck can’t I just live my life for me rather than him?”
“What he needs is someone to talk some sense into him,” Ray suggested with a chuckle.
“It’s not funny, he hates me!”
“Does he? Do you really think he actually cares that much?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I don’t know him, but I know you. I don’t actually believe that he’s the kind of man who actually cares for anything or anyone other than himself. If you were my daughter, under the same circumstances, then I might not exactly be thrilled with your life decisions, but they’re your decisions, and I would respect them. My love for you as a parent would still be as strong, so I’d do my best to put aside any social shame or personal disquiet to give you whatever support you needed. The worth of a man is in his capacity to love, not in what he owns or how important he thinks he is. Is he unable to take what he perceives as the social fallout?”
“Probably,” I stammered, as it dawned on me that he used the ‘L’ word twice.
“Would you like me to talk to him? You never know, he might accept the truth from a senior army officer.”
I smiled, in spite of the tears. He always managed to say something that made me smile. That’s why I was so fond of him. I paused a moment. I was fond of him, or was it something more. His voice on the telephone had an affect on me; it made me relax, and it made me believe that the worst was over and there was light at the end of the tunnel. Ray always made me feel good about myself when I really needed to.
“Jane?”
“I’m here; I was just smiling, as you say the silliest things sometimes. But thanks, I needed to smile.”
“I was serious.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’ll just commandeer a helicopter and flit over to Scotland and then be back before breakfast?”
“I’m in Perth.”
I was silent.
“Jane?”
“What did you say?”
“I said that I was in Perth.”
“What the hell are you doing in Perth?”
“I flew into Edinburgh this morning. I’ve been at a meeting all afternoon, and now I’m staying with an old army buddy just outside Perth. He’s a farmer up near Dunkeld.”
“When did you know about this?”
He laughed down the phone at me. “You sound like a jealous wife.”
I immediately felt guilty, so apologised.
“Don’t be silly. I only found out this morning at seven-thirty. There’s a bit of a flap on as the provos targeted some British bases in Europe, so I had a high-level meeting with some chaps in Edinburgh. One of the Regiments attacked was the RSDGs.” (Royal Scots Dragoon Guards)
I suddenly realised that of all the people in the world, he was the only one I really needed to see right now, but I hesitated to say so. I was only too aware of my own past, and how absurd it was to consider he could ever be anything more than a friend.
“Jane, are you okay, my love?”
I thought I’d misheard. “What did you call me?”
“Look this is neither the time, nor the way to speak of such things. I need to see you, and I suspect you need me. Am I right?”
“What things?” I said, ignoring his question. For some reason, my heart was beating faster.
“Things like what I feel for you, and what you might feel for me. May I come and see you?”
“Ray, don’t be an arse, you can’t expect…”
“Jane, shut up!”
I shut up.
“Now, I’m coming over. Either he will speak to me or he won’t. If he won’t, then you’re leaving with me, got it?”
He was suddenly my commanding officer, but I was only too happy to acquiesce to him.
“Yes, dear,” I said, semi-mockingly.
“It will probably take me about forty minutes, okay?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Who’s being an arse now?” he asked, chuckling. I loved that sound; it was rich and melodious, like dark, warm chocolate. I wanted to wrap myself in his laugh.
“I am, dear.”
“I know a lovely restaurant in Perth, do you fancy dinner?”
“What about your friend?”
“We can bring him and his wife too, if you fancy a foursome?”
“I don’t think I’d be brilliant company right now.”
“I’ll see what the situation is when I get there, all right?”
“Yes sir!” I said, smiling.
“You’re an arse, Jane. I think that’s why I love you. Bye for now, I’ll see you in a bit.”
He was gone before my stunned brain was able to recover. I was still standing holding the dead receiver when my mum and aunt returned.
“Jane, are you all right? You look shocked. Has something happened?” my mother asked.
I stared at her, still unable to comprehend everything he’d just said, as the last sentence sort of wiped my hard drive.
“Jane, well, who was it?”
“A,… a friend. He’s worried about me. He’s coming over to talk to dad.”
“Who is he?”
“Someone I’ve known for years, but sort of met again recently,” I sensed I was making a right muck-up of this.
“Jane, that tells me nothing.”
“Ray is someone I first knew when I was in the army. We’d not seen each other for years, but we met up a little while ago, and we’ve become good friends.”
“You mean he recognised you as Jamie?”
“No, he just thought I was a real woman. He was due to ship out to Ireland, so I sort of told him the truth before things got serious.”
“And he’s still here?” Aunt Mary asked. “I think things have got a tad more than serious, don’t you, my girl?”
I must have blushed, for both laughed at me.
“You still haven’t answered my question, dear.”
“His name is Ray Carlyle.”
“Ray Carlyle, I know that name, now why have I heard of him? I think there was an article in the Telegraph recently, something about cuts to the army, or something. Oh, my God, he’s not Brigadier Raymond Carlyle, is he?”
I simply grinned sheepishly.
“Oh, dear Lord, he is! Good for you, girl,” said Mary, as she burst out laughing.
“You said he was coming here to speak to your father, why?”
“I think Ray believes that dad might listen to someone outside the family.”
“I also think he’s worried about you and wants to protect you,” said my aunt with a knowing smile.
“Does he want to stay for dinner?” asked my mother, always with a thought for the catering arrangements.
“I don’t know. I think it wise just to wait and see what happens. He did ask if I wanted to go out for dinner, but I told him I would wait and see what happened.”
“Then let’s just leave it at that. How long will he take to get here?”
“I’m not sure, he’s coming from Dunkeld.”
“This time of evening, about an hour,” said my aunt.
“Oh, let’s hope your father is still here when he gets here.”
Chapter 16. Something Lost, Something Gained
As it happened, my father was still in his study when a battered and very muddy Land Rover pulled up in front of the house. I’d been pacing nervously up and down the hall, so was on the drive before Ray even opened his door.
The first thing I saw was his smile, and under its warmth, I simply melted.
“Hello you,” he said, coming over to me. He was dressed in a pair of brown cords, a check shirt and had brown brogues on his feet. He looked younger out of uniform, but also more human.
“Hi. Thanks for coming, but you didn’t have to, you know?”
He said nothing, but held out his hand, which I took. He pulled me gently towards him, wrapping his other arm around my waist.
We stood there, with me looking up into his eyes.
“What?” I said, unable to gauge his expression.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too, but why are you looking at me like that?”
He smiled and then kissed me, releasing me as soon as it was over. Still holding my hand, we walked towards the front door.
“Is he still here?”
“Yes.”
“Good, I thought for a moment he might retreat. Does he know I’m coming?”
“No.”
“Even better.”
We went into the hall to find my mother and aunt eagerly waiting to be introduced. After I had done so, Mary’s eyebrows nearly took off. Ray simply excused himself and went to my father’s study.
“He’s gorgeous, Jane, don’t you dare let this one go!”
“I don’t think it’s up to me, but I’ll try not to.”
We did try to get as close to the door as possible, so we could overhear the conversation. Unfortunately, although we could hear the deep bass of their voices, no words were discernable. Aunt Mary pushed me back into the kitchen.
“Put the kettle on, there’s nothing good to be overheard by eves dropping,” mother said.
“Bugger that, I need a proper drink!” said my aunt with a chuckle.
I put the kettle on while Aunt Mary helped herself to a stiff gin and tonic. We then sat in the kitchen in virtual silence, waiting for the expected eruption.
Half an hour passed, and all was still quiet. I couldn’t take it any more, so stood up.
“I’m going to take the dogs for a walk, I can’t stand this.”
I put on my wellies and a coat, called the dogs and went up the lane for about half an hour, then I went round the wood and returned across the field to the house. My mind was in a whirl, unable to focus on anything much. When I got back to the house, I half expected to see that Ray had left, but the Land Rover was still where he’d left it. I had tried to imagine all possible permutations that could be happening, so was quite worked up by the time I went into the kitchen.
Ray was sitting at the kitchen table, laughing and joking with my mother and aunt. I noticed he had a whisky in his hand.
“Oh there you are, Ray’s staying for dinner, by the way,” my mother said as I entered.
He put his glass down and stood up as I walked into the room.
“Well, how did it go?” I asked, slightly timidly, as if I didn’t want to know the answer.
“He’s thinking things over,” he said.
“Like?”
“Like lots of things. I think I’ve allowed him to see that there is more than one way to look at this situation. I just hope I’ve convinced him of certain truths.”
“Truths, what truths?”
“Things like unconditional parental love and responsibility, what it means to be a man, and what it means to have real courage. I also told him that I expected a hell of a lot more from the father of the woman I love.”
I had to hold onto the chair back to prevent myself from falling. I sat down.
“What?”
He sat next to me, taking my hand.
“Jane, I sort of said as much on the phone, but the truth is you’ve managed to get right under my skin. There I was in Belgium, working hard but unable to concentrate because I kept thinking of you. You remember the musical, My Fair Lady?”
I nodded.
“Well, Rex Harrison wasn’t much of a singer, but his song, Why Can’t a Woman be more like a Man is so apt. You are the first woman I have ever met who understands me and with whom I can be truly myself. I find that, despite your past, it’s the girl I met at that restaurant and have got to know over the last months or so that I want to be with.”
I stared at him, then at my mother and aunt.
“But, you know I can’t…”
“Jane, I’m not sure what can’t you were going to say. Let me quite clear, I’ve had all the children I want, so I’m not rushing to race up an aisle and I couldn’t really give a damn what other people think. It may not the situation I’d envisaged, but I suppose in a way, it’s more appropriate, for at least you’ll know I’m serious. You see, I now realise I love you, and have for some time, so I’m asking you to join me on life’s path, for as long as you care to stay with me.”
It was the nearest thing to a marriage proposal for which someone like me could ever hope. I suppose that despite all my day dreams involving Martin, all my visions of a perfect future where I would be swept off by a man who’d accept me for who I was, I’d never really believed that it was either likely, realistic or probable. All my counselling, all the therapy groups and all the experts had told me to expect a very quiet social life. Romance was a secondary issue, and was something to consider once one was well established in one’s new life, unless, of course, one was fortunate enough to have a partner who stuck by throughout.
So to be suddenly faced with someone who met my dream-criterion was, quite simply, a shock.
I then thought of Martin.
I’d rarely thought about him at all recently; whereas Ray had hardly been out of my mind. I felt a little guilt over that sweet German, but it was a small drop of emotion in a veritable ocean. We’d gradually drifted apart, as I desperately wanted to put my past behind me, as he was clinging to something that had happened so long ago that it was unhealthy.
“Well?”
“What?”
“Yes or no, damn it?”
“Shit, you’ve really surprised me, Ray, I had no idea.”
“I guessed that, but if you don’t feel about me the way I feel about you, then I can give you more time.”
“It’s not that, it’s just that I’m not….”
He silenced me by kissing me. It lasted a long time, but I was only too well aware of my mother and aunt watching. He broke off.
“Well?”
“I suppose I’d be an idiot to turn you down?”
“Yes, you bloody well would!” said my aunt.
“That’ll be a yes then, but you have to accept that I….”
I wasn’t allowed to finish, for he pulled me to my feet and kissed me again.
This time I was oblivious to anyone but Ray. When we broke off, all my protestations and reservations seemed to have vanished. I found myself being hugged by both my mother and aunt, with the latter disappearing to find some champagne to open.
“Ray, have you really thought this through?” I asked, once we were alone, as my mother went in to see if my father was still alive.
“Of course. You know, it’s been a bit of a challenge, but in the end, I think we’ll do alright.”
“Have you any idea what it will be like attached to a transsexual?”
“Jane, for a start, you aren’t a transsexual any more. You’re a woman, and a damn attractive one, with bags of character, guts and a wonderful sense of humour. Secondly, I’m not seeking public office, so there’s no reason for anyone to get kicks out of spilling the beans to the damn papers. And, what’s more, if anyone wants to make an issue over it, they can answer to me. I happen to love you, you silly woman, so I am prepared to take on all the baggage that goes with you.”
“There’s quite some baggage, you know?”
“I believe I do. Look, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and to be honest, would have said something ages ago, but was too much of a coward. I wanted to see whether I’d feel the same after a little time and distance was put in the equation, and I did, so here I am.”
“You must be daft, but I do love you,” I said. “It’s strange, but I never thought I’d ever find anyone, not like this. I’m not sure I ever expected anyone to take on that baggage.”
He frowned, looking around the kitchen.
“Where’s my jacket?” he asked.
“You weren’t wearing one when you arrived, why?”
“Bugger, must have left it in the car. Won’t be a jiffy,” he said, going out to the drive.
“Where’s he gone?” asked Mum, as she returned to the kitchen.
“Gone for his jacket, why?”
“I thought you’d frightened him off.”
“How’s dad?”
“Confused and upset. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure. I think he’s feeling sorry for himself because he feels guilty and ashamed. I also think he’s cross at being shown up as a bit of an arse, to be honest.”
“Would it help if I went and spoke to him?”
“You could try, I really don’t know, he’s just muttering, ‘I’m sorry,’ over and over again.”
I went back to the study and found the door open. I walked in. Dad was still sitting in his chair, but he was leaning on the desk with his head in both hands, with his elbows on the desk.
“Dad, for what it worth, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
He didn’t reply or make any motion to signify that he’d heard me. I shook my head and was turning away when he finally spoke.
“You could have been someone!” he said.
“I am someone. I’m the person I want to be.”
He turned and looked at me. He sat there for several moments, just looking at me.
“Yes, but you could have been better!”
“Dad, I don’t want to be better. This is what I wanted, and now I can start to live my life without feeling that I’m living a lie,” I said, as if talking to a child.
He said something that I couldn’t hear.
“I’m sorry, what?” I said, moving closer.
“I’m sorry for all the horrible things that I said. I was being selfish. I didn’t realise just how selfish until,… your,…. your friend told me.”
“Ray’s a good man, dad, he only wanted to help me.”
My father nodded. “He told me how much you hurt. I wanted you to hurt, and I’m so sorry.”
“Why did you want me to hurt?” I asked.
“Because, I…, I honestly don’t know. I just know I did.”
I stared at this man. If he wasn’t my father, I’d just walk out, but something invisible made me stay.”
“Your friend was right, as I had an unreal expectation of you, but I never really considered you’d want to go your own way. Now I see it, but ….you hurt me quite a lot.”
“You hurt me too, dad, but I forgive you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t deserve it, for you didn’t mean to hurt me, but I did. I wanted you to be so hurt that you’d come back to me.”
“I never went away, dad, I’m still your child. I’m just not the son you thought I was.”
“This is so hard.”
“Yes, it is, and has been for me for the last twenty years.”
“That long?” he asked, surprised.
“That long. I’m now happy to be who I am, all I want is for you to be happy for me.”
“I don’t like it, Jame…., hell, I don’t even know if I can say your name.”
“Try, dad, please try.”
“You have to understand, I don’t like what you’ve done, but I’m sorry for being a selfish old sod. I’m not sure if I can ever really accept this, but I will try. I still think you’ve made a dreadful mistake, but I accept that you believe that what you’ve done is right for you.”
“I’m happy for the first time in my life, so doesn’t that mean something?”
He looked away, and I thought I saw the glistening of tears in his eyes.
“All I wanted for you was to be happy.”
“Then be pleased for me, because I am. It may not be the way you expected, and it’s certainly not the way I expected.”
He almost smiled. I sat on the floor at his feet and took his hand. He tried to pull it away, but I held on tight.
“Dad, look, I know you wanted the best for me, but your best and my best are different. My life must be my own, to make mistakes or to be a success, but they are my mistakes or successes, not yours. You were great when I was young, both as a father and as a mentor, but as soon I was old enough to have my own ideas, opinions and beliefs, then you didn’t like it, because I started to pull away and to be free. Well, I am free now, but I would still have you in my life, on my terms, as my father, not as someone who would dictate how I should conduct my life. A father and daughter shouldn’t be enemies.”
His eyes widened at the use of the word — daughter, but he said nothing.
I never heard Ray come in, but when he put his hand on my shoulder, I knew he was there.
“I’m sorry, ………Jane, I will try,” dad whispered my name, as if unable to speak it properly. It was more than I had expected.
“Thank you, that’s all I ask of you.”
Dad looked up at Ray.
“Forgive me, but do I understand that you really intend to,…. to well,…. to form a relationship with, with,…her?”
I had to smile, as it was the first time he’d acknowledge me as being worthy of the word her.
“Sir, I understand your reluctance to use the words daughter and marry, but in essence, I love Jane, and would have her for my wife, once the legalities of the situation are settled. There is no doubt that Jane is a woman, and as your daughter, you should be proud of her tenacity and courage to undergo what she had recently experienced. I’m not asking for your blessing, for we would not be thoughtless, but I believe that any man should be told when her daughter has found someone with whom she wishes to spend the rest of her life.”
“Ray, that was ever so pompous!” I said, but he was watching my father.
Dad shook his head. “I still don’t like what has happened, but in the light of what you say, I must accept it. I do admit to having behaved irresponsibly and selfishly, but I maintain that I hoped that good sense would prevail. I apologise to you, J…, J.., Jane, for how I treated you. I may not understand why, but must accept that it has happened, regardless of my wishes. Perhaps, in time I will be more accepting, so you will forgive me if it takes me a while. I am happy for you, if you really believe you are more content now. This is all very strange, but for what it’s worth, you have my blessing, even though you didn’t ask for it.”
“Thank God for that!” said my aunt, as she handed out the champagne glasses. “A toast, to Jane and the rest of her life!”
Comments
Effectively Emotional
Didn't really expect Jane's father to turn around for anything less than a life-or-death situation, even though you did promise a positive finish.
(Probably not part of your experience, but I was reminded of the final scene of an episode of the 1960's television show The Wild Wild West (Major James West is an American James Bond type circa 1880) where West's master-of-disguise partner finally reconciles the villain to his fate by dressing as Robert E Lee and releasing him from his imagined obligation to the Old Confederacy.)
Looking forward to the wrap-up.
Eric
Dream
Of all of the stories of yours that I have read, I think this one speaks the strongest from your heart. The story doesn't need to end here, but it is very satisfying as it is. Portia
Portia
To Be Continued?
I must admit having lived with the 'troubles' as British citizen somewhat younger than Jane. I was fully expecting the Ray was about to be the victim of an atrocity while Jane and her father were discussing things. Gladly I see that didn't happen. :)
I noticed that once again you finish the story with 'To Be Continued...' Yet I don't really understand the need for continuation, the story seems to have resolved itself.
However as this is one of your really good stories I won't complain if it does carry on at some point.
JC
The Legendary Lost Ninja
A bit too much army history for me
but I do like the way you describe your characters. I also empathise with the feelings and emotions of your heroine, particularly needing to 'do the right thing' in order to be loved, and trying to immerse herself in a life, not of her choosing, so as to try and make the feelings go away.
The insensitive and hurtful words of my late father will forever ring in my ears; "It's a good job that your mother isn't here to see this" - Mum had died a few years previously.
Another great work from a great author; I'm glad to see that the final romance is played out against a shared history.
Why do I get the feeling that there may be more to come and that the road may become more rocky?
Susie
Fight for a dream
there are a few more chapters to come....
There's no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes!
Another Wonderful Story
Thank you. I was routing for Martin, but you won me over to Ray. I'm looking forward to the rest of this story.
Dreams!
Tanya; I have read several of your stories and I think this has to be one of your best, and looking foreward to more of it! Richard
Richard