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Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!
Originally written in 2004, revised in 2009.
Unfortunately, no politicians were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.
The Legal Stuff:Twisted Dreams ©2004, 2009 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.
Prologue
Sitting in the very bleak waiting area, I felt very nervous and about as insecure as I had ever been, not least because of the task I knew I had to undertake. I was a stranger in a strange land. The rain lashed against the window, so I was grateful for the lift to the hospital in the police car. I had sat in silence for the twenty-minute trip, the young uniformed NYPD officer was obviously aware of the purpose of my journey, so did not really know what to say to me.
I stood up and walked across the grey lino floor, to stare out of the window for the twentieth time. I was conscious of the sound of my high heels on the hard floor, as I looked out into the darkness, with the rain running down the outside of the panes, I could see my reflection in the window. A tall, pretty girl, in her late teens or early twenties stared back at me, with her long, fair hair cascading across her shoulders, and her dark skirt ending just above her knees, with her long, attractive legs clad in sheer stockings.
In truth, I was actually nineteen, but looked older. I wore a dark turtle-neck sweater and a broad cream belt on the outside of the sweater, emphasising my hourglass figure. I had a coat, but it was lying on a chair to my left. My black leather shoulder bag was slung across my shoulder, and I felt no doubt that this was the person I should always have been. I opened my bag and, using my compact mirror, repaired my makeup. After all, it had been a long day, and was not over yet.
“Miss Lake?” a male voice asked. I turned to see a white-coated woman and a man in a suit. The man looked like a policeman. I’d seen a fair few of them in the last few months.
“Yes.”
He smiled, one of those half-apologetic and half-embarrassed smiles of officials everywhere, who have to give you bad news.
“Thanks for coming, Miss Lake, I’m Lieutenant Collinson, NYPD Homicide. I understand that you’ve been through a hell of a time. I’m sorry about what’s happened, and I hope this will not be too distressing for you.”
“What happened to him?” I asked.
“We’re not certain yet, as there’s an ongoing active investigation into his death, but we do actually have reason to believe that it was a homicide,” he said, and I watched his eyes narrow as he tried to gauge my reaction.
“Reason?”
“We aren’t certain. We do know that he was assisting Federal officers, and was, ah, actually in touch with a Federal Agent even a few days ago. It’s rather confused by the fact that we have a record that he died over two years ago in Miami. But when we ran his prints through New Scotland Yard, it came back as your father.”
“How did he die, this time?” I asked.
“This time?”
“Last time they said he was shot by a policeman, so what’s the story this time?”
I felt sorry for the poor man, as he only had some of the pieces of the jigsaw, and he didn’t know whether I had the rest or not.
“That can only be determined officially by autopsy.”
“Come on, was he shot, stabbed or what?”
He looked slightly troubled, then scratched his head and gave a short laugh. “He has a single bullet wound to his heart. But that is unofficial at this time.”
I stared at him, aware that I was giving nothing away. I nodded, and almost smiled.
“I suppose expected it,” I said, and he frowned.
“Oh?”
“Lieutenant Collinson, I know that he was hardly an angel. I had to identify him last time, only to find him alive and on a witness protection programme. His actual activities were never revealed to me, but over the last few years I’ve been made aware that he was mixed up in all kinds of things. Last year he told me he had information that the FBI found useful, but I still have no idea what that information was. I do know that a substantial amount of cocaine was seized along with an awful lot of money.
“As you probably know, I was the subject of a kidnap attempt, and had been under police protection for some time, because of information that I passed to them from him. My father and I were not dreadfully close, but we did love each other in a funny sort of way.” I was aware that I sounded awfully English.
“Well, shall we get the formal identification over with, and then we could discuss things?” he said.
“Will I need a solicitor?” I asked, and he smiled at my very Englishness, shaking his head.
“No, you don’t need a lawyer, as you are not implicated in any crime in the United States. But you could help me clear up quite a lot that I don’t understand.”
I followed the pair through the doors marked Morgue and we entered a long room with large cooler doors down one side. The woman checked her clipboard and then opened one of the fridge doors. There were three tiers of body trays, and she pulled out the middle one. A figure was covered by a plain pale blue sheet. She looked at me, and then at the cop. He nodded, so she pulled back the sheet.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t what I saw.
My father looked more peaceful than I could ever remember. So much so, that I surprised myself by finding tears in my eyes. I was crying for the bastard. He was lying on his back, the sheet revealed he was not wearing anything on his upper torso, but I assumed he was naked. His eyes were closed and he looked asleep. But he wasn’t asleep. It was his pale colouring and totally relaxed muscle tone that gave it away. Even his hair looked neat and tidy; that hair that he had spent so much time on, keeping it the right colour and always so neat. The last time I saw him he had been trying to grow it back after having shaved it all off. I was glad he managed it.
I nodded, and said, “That’s my father, Jonathon Edward Lake.” Even to my ears, my voice sounded flat and emotionless.
“May I touch him?” I asked.
“Of course, if you want.”
I reached out and stroked his cheek. It was as cold as ice. He was definitely dead, this time.
The woman replaced the sheet, sliding the drawer back and closing the door.
“Are you sure that’s your father?” The detective asked.
“Oh yes, that’s Dad. He looks pretty good, considering,” I said, with a little smile.
“I need to get some paperwork completed first, and then I’ll get you a cup of coffee or something. There are some personal effects, you can have them now,” he said.
I signed a form stating that I positively identified the body as my father, and another form that, as his only next-of-kin, I was taking custody of all the personal effects that were on him when he was brought in.
I was handed a large clear plastic bag with a red plastic seal around it.
I signed another form for the hospital that I released the body to the Coroner for post mortem examination by autopsy. This was a mere formality, as there would be a PM regardless of my wishes. They explained that once the autopsy had established cause of death, the body would be released to me for burial, or cremation.
“I actually buried him the first time nearly two years ago. Can I have the ashes sent to me, and I will dispose of them appropriately,” I asked. “Is it possible that the publicity on this can be kept to a minimum? Only the last case was highly publicised as part of an FBI operation, and he went into the witness protection programme.”
“That has already been arranged. The FBI are dealing with that side of things, but we still have a homicide to investigate.”
“But he is already dead, legally.”
“Not as Charles Armitage, and that is who he is, legally.”
Oh, the joys of being an only child of an unsuccessful criminal.
The Lieutenant took me out of the Morgue and to his car. He drove a short distance from the hospital, pulling up outside a bar/diner.
“Look, Miss Lake, Jim Randall from Scotland Yard called me, so I know some of what has happened to you, but not everything. If it will help, I’d like to hear your side, after all, it is a very unusual story, plus, it’s not every day I get to take a top fashion model out for a drink.”
I stared out of the car window, the wipers were still going, and the rain was making the lights refract into weird patterns. New York seemed a lot seedier like this.
I looked down at my hands, which were clasped together in my lap, the long manicured nails glistening darkly as the light reflected off the red varnish. The single engagement ring gleamed on my left ring finger, and I twiddled it absently, smiling as I thought of him, my rock. Who was several thousand miles away when I really needed him.
I realised that with my father’s death, my long ordeal was over and, with a little luck, I could now pick up my life and start afresh. But I’d been here before, and here I was again. The enormity of everything I had experienced, and the relief that it was all over hit me like a double whammy, so I almost broke down into tears.
I sat there as the tears threatened to well up, finally I could not contain them and they streamed down my face, and then the sobs started. Great heaving sobs, but as always when I cried, almost totally soundless.
The policeman was clearly at a bit of a loss, and he looked so uncomfortable that it made me start to laugh. It was enough to make me stop.
He handed me a tissue, so I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. I took out my make up, so cleaned up and repaired my mascara.
“I’m okay now. I’m sorry, but I suppose it has just dawned on me that it is finally, actually over,” I said, and he smiled.
“Come on, Miss Lake, I’ll buy you a coffee, or something stronger.”
“Can you call me Sandi, as Miss Lake sounds awfully official?”
“Sure, Sandi, if that makes you feel happier.”
I smiled a little, so we got out of the car.
I followed him into the bar, and we sat in a secluded booth. A waitress came over so he ordered a glass of wine for me and a beer for himself.
He sat opposite me, as I sipped my wine.
“Where would you like me to start?” I asked.
“How about the beginning, it is usually the best place?” he said, with a smile.
I smiled, took a deep breath, casting my mind back two years.
Chapter 1
“Alex.”
“What?”
“I’m going out, are you okay to get your own supper?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be back late tomorrow, so don’t wait up.”
“Okay Dad, I won’t.” I said, hardly breaking concentration from the computer I was engrossed in. I heard the front door slam, and the sound of Dad’s Jaguar drive across the gravel and onto the road. I was out onto the landing, watching the car disappear over the brow of the hill.
Dad was a businessman, and his business was not all above board. I knew enough to realise that most of Dad’s deals were the wrong side of right. So to speak.
We had a nice house, super holidays in lovely parts of the world, and I had every material thing I needed or even wanted. But I did not have the love and attention from caring parents. My mother had left my father, and me, several years ago for another man. The pair of them had died in a sailing ‘accident’ a few months later.
I felt so betrayed by my mother that I didn’t think about her death at all. However, it was only recently that it occurred to me that it might not have been an accident after all, and my Dad had not exactly been that cut up or surprised about it all.
However, that was in the past, for now, my father was doing deals, so I was left at home to my own devices, as usual. I am not saying that my Dad didn’t care, he did. He cared a lot in his own way, and would argue that everything he did was for me. We both knew that was complete bollocks.
He could have retired on the money he had already made and invested. The truth was simple; he loved the wheeling dealing and turning a quick quid. He was a crook, pure and simple, and he got his thrills from making as much money as he could. He did everything for himself, and I was simply an appendage.
I went back to the computer, and said goodbye to the guy I was chatting with, making some excuse or other.
“Bye Candi, keep moist for me, Hun.” he wrote.
“I will, Babe. Bye.” I wrote, and severed the connection.
I paused, as I really enjoyed living a dream in the chat rooms. I was Candi, an eighteen-year old girl from London. I really enjoyed pretending to loads of guys, particularly in the States, as I felt safe with the Atlantic separating us.
I went into my bedroom and opened my wardrobe. I removed the false floor, hauling out my suitcase.
I stripped off, shaking slightly in excitement and anticipation. I put the suitcase on the bed and opened the combination locks. I stood naked and opened the case. I looked down and smiled, for I was going to become the person I longed to be once more.
I went into my bathroom and checked my face in the mirror. I was so pleased that at sixteen I still did not have any facial hair. I checked my armpits and then my torso - still no hair. Mind you, I shaved my armpits regularly in the shower, and waxed my legs at every opportunity or as soon as any hair should be found.
Taking the elastic band off my ponytail, I shook my hair free. It was quite long now, and I had washed it only a few hours before, so it was light and had a natural wave to it.
I applied the adhesive to the rear of my silicone breast forms, and attached them to my chest in the right place. I had been cross-dressing for at least three years now, and was getting very good at this. I had purchased the breast forms off the Internet, as I had bought quite a few specialist items.
I had been about six or seven when I realised that I should have been a girl, and by the time I was twelve, it became an all-encompassing fact of my life. My mother had left when I was about ten, so my father had simply bagged everything she had left behind and placed them in the trailer for his next trip to the dump. I had gone through the bags and removed anything that took my fancy, and now I had a wardrobe that most sixteen-year old girls would have envied and killed for.
It took me a few minutes to dress and put my makeup on. I wore a blue denim mini skirt with tights and plain white panties. My small male genitalia were tucked in and up between my legs, they spent so much time there they felt as if they belonged. I had a white bra and a pink tee-shirt, with a fluffy pullover should it get cold. I grabbed my denim shoulder bag and the overnight case that I had packed earlier. I dashed round the house, locking everything, and put on my anorak. I grabbed my crash helmet and locked the front door as I left. It would take me five minutes to get to Jenny’s on my moped.
I was about 5’7”, slim and fine featured. I was terrified of puberty, as I had no desire to grow to manhood. I wanted with all my heart to be a girl, and would do anything to realise my dream. I had found a huge stash of my mother’s contraceptive pills, of which I had taken one a day for the last two years, so I was positive that this was why I was not developing as a male as I should have been.
In fact, my own breasts were actually slightly swollen and sensitive, my male genitalia were underdeveloped, and I had not experienced an erection for several months. I had read of potential dangers on the Internet, and had gone to see my doctor and explained my predicament.
Dr Shepherd had been horrified, and because of my age had told me that she would have to speak to my father. I had created a real scene, claiming that he was potentially violent, and that he would kill me if she did. I would wait until I was seventeen, and then I was legally an adult. She had relented, but had done various tests. She also had me see a psychiatrist who specialised in gender disorders, and I had had several sessions with him.
Meanwhile, I attended school and life carried on as normal. I always dressed in a very androgynous style, taking great pleasure in deliberately confusing people as to my gender. I even wore a little make up from time to time, so even kids at my school were unsure whether I was a boy or a girl. I called myself ‘Sandi’, and that was no help to anyone.
I had a few friends, and those I had were mostly girls, but for the most part, I was a real loner. My father was completely oblivious to me and my traumas, concentrating as he was on his own dealings.
Dr Shepherd saw me each week, and every other week I saw Dr Manning, the psychiatrist. On my last visit, Dr Shepherd told me of the results of the tests.
“Well, Alex..
“Sandi - please call me Sandi, as my Dad calls me Alex, and that’s a boy’s name.”
“Sandi then. We’ve stopped the pills just in time, too late for some things, but in time to save your life.”
“That bad?”
“You have completely chemically castrated yourself, so you’ll never be able to function as a male.”
“Good, what else?”
She stared at me, smiling and shaking her head.
“You’ve done some tissue damage to your testicles, so I’m afraid we will have to remove them.”
“Fine, when?” I asked.
“There’s the problem, because of your age, we can’t operate without your father’s consent. And you need the operation within the next few weeks.”
“I’ll be seventeen in a month. Can it wait that long?”
“I think so. But not much longer, you could develop a cancer.”
“When can I go for SRS?” I asked, and she smiled.
“You know your stuff.”
“I should do, I’ve planned this for four years.”
“Well, Dr Manning has started a profile on you, and I’m sure he’ll discuss what needs to happen before full SRS can be a real option.”
“How about privately?”
She stared at me.
“Privately?” she repeated, confused.
“Yes, private treatment. I have enough.”
“Enough? Have you any idea how much full SRS costs?”
“I have over £50,000. And I know three surgeons who would take my hand off at the wrist for that.”
She stared at me.
“As I told you, my father is hardly an honest man, and it isn’t the money he takes pleasure from, it’s the acquisition of it. I’ve managed to save a considerable sum over the last few years.”
“You would be that determined?”
“What do you think?” I asked.
She smiled, shaking her head again.
“Sandi, I somehow believe that you’ll get your way, one way or another. So let’s deal with things, one at a time.”
We discussed my surgical options, firstly the essentials, and then the important, but not life saving. Dates were set, and options explained. She had put me on testosterone blockers, and a very low dose of oestrogen, so low that no further damage would be done. Clearly, she was uncomfortable dealing with a juvenile without my father present, so my birthday could not come quickly enough. She wrote a letter to my school explaining the sensitive situation with my gender dysphoria and my father. I was therefore excused all sports and any kind of activity involving gender isolation and identification.
Life went on.
I became more and more feminine as my shape altered, and my voice was still high and well modulated enough for a girl. It came to a point where my Dad started noticing, so I knew that I couldn’t hide it for much longer.
I got up, made my own breakfast, and went to school. My one real pleasure was the way I dressed. The school I went to had a uniform of sorts, but girls could wear trousers or skirts. I always wore trousers, but they were girl’s trousers, as they fitted my changing shape better. I wore girl’s shoes, and with my long hair, I made everyone play a guessing game.
We lived on the South coast, having moved here from London a couple of years after my mother left. I had one year at a secondary school in Acton, and then we moved. My new school was in Brighton, and although big, the kids were in a different league to those in London. My confusing gender even got most of the teachers. I was teased a little, but most kids found me uncomfortable to be with and my clothing was quite a clear individual statement. Some of the guys called me a queer, but then others thought I was a girl in any case. Occasionally, I was asked what I was, and I just smiled and said nothing.
One Thursday afternoon before Easter, I had been sitting on the wall outside school when a girl from my class came up to me. Her name was Jenny Armstrong, and she was a pretty girl whose parents ran a small hotel on the coast, just outside the town not far from our house. She was the closest person I had to being a friend.
“Hi Sandi.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I dunno. Nothing, as usual, I suppose.”
She sat on the wall next to me, and I felt jealous that she could wear a short skirt and I couldn’t. She reached out and touched my hair.
“I love your hair like that. It’s really pretty,” she said, letting my hair run through her fingers.
I smiled, as this was a type of conversation I dreamed about.
“You know you told Harry Adams you were a girl, and his sister thinks you said you were a boy?”
“So?”
She smiled. “I think you are so cool. No one knows for sure what you are.”
“What do you think?”
She looked at me closely.
“You sound like a girl, you look like a girl and you act like a girl. But something tells me that you’re a boy. But you don’t want to be a boy.”
I smiled.
“What makes you so sure?” I asked.
“Some of your mannerisms are too aggressive. Most of the time you are very feminine, but sometimes, when you’re not concentrating or are worried, you slip up.”
I smiled, a little sadly I suppose.
She touched my arm.
“I don’t mean to upset you. I’d never tell. You really are too pretty to be a boy.”
I smiled again.
“Have you some friends coming round this weekend?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“I don’t mix much,” I admitted.
“Yeah, I had noticed,” she said, and smiled a little knowing smile.
The bus arrived and we got on.
“Good day at school, girls?” the driver asked us.
I grinned and nodded, and Jenny saw my smile. We went down the back and sat down.
“You like fooling people, don’t you?” she asked.
I thought about it.
“I used to think that was it, but actually I just like being accepted as a girl. That’s all there is to it,” I admitted.
“Well, you do a good job, and without even wearing the clothes,” she said.
“I wear them at home, when my old man is away.”
“What about your mother?”
“She’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not, not really. She pissed off with her lover when I was ten. They both died in a sailing accident not long after.”
“Gosh, how horrid.”
“It was probably my Dad. He’s a bit of a nasty bastard at times. That’s why I have to be so careful. If he caught me as a girl, he’d kill me.”
She stared at me, unsure whether to believe me or not.
I then told her about my treatments and plans, and she was captivated. The bus stopped near my house. I knew that Dad was away for a couple of days, so I was alone.
“Look, Dad’s away, do you want to come in for a bit?” I asked.
She looked at her watch, and nodded. We both got off and I opened up the house. She rang her parents, who were busy and pleased she was with a friend. There was a note from my Dad telling me that he had to fly to New York for four or five days. But he would make it up to me when he got back.
“What does your dad do?”
“I don’t ask, and he doesn’t need to lie. But I reckon whatever it is, it is probably illegal.”
She was not listening, her eyes were popping out at the luxurious fixtures and fittings. I thought them rather gaudy and vulgar, but Dad liked them. It was a big, detached house, six bedrooms and an acre and a half of garden. It was set on a headland, a long way from any neighbours. A high wall surrounded the house, and it was a little on the bleak side. Mature trees in the garden gave it some shade and character, while some woodland to the left protected it from the winter winds.
Dad had been brought up in Bow, East London, or ‘dragged up’ as he put it. He remembered the small terraced house and six brothers and sisters fighting for the middle of the bed, as it was warmer there. Therefore, his taste in furnishings was not very refined. If it was expensive, he liked it, regardless of how crappy it looked. Mother had been of more genteel stock, and had, while they were together, taken most of the decisions relating to interior decorating and design.
However, since her leaving and subsequent death, Dad had no checks and balances in place. I was not old enough to have a say, except for in my own room.
“Wow, this is some place,” she said, looking at a chandelier that would have looked fine in some casino in Las Vegas.
“It’s okay,” I said, leading her up to my room.
She sat on my double bed as I went into my bathroom and through the change, I had never dressed for anyone else before, and I was excited to know what she felt. I had a favourite denim skirt and several tops I liked to wear with it.
I finished my makeup and returned to the bedroom.
“Shit, Sandi, you look amazing. You have a super figure,” she said.
I smiled, as what she said gave me a warm tingly feeling all over.
“My God, there is no way anyone would ever think you weren’t a girl looking like that.”
“You reckon?”
“So your dad is away, right?”
“Yeah, so, he does this all the time?”
“How about I stay over?”
“What overnight?” I asked, incredulous. No one had ever stayed with me before.
“Yeah. We could go to school tomorrow from here.”
“Yeah, great. What about your parents?”
She took out her mobile, punching her parent’s number.
“Hi Mum, I’m with Sandi at her place, look,” she said, turning her phone round, using the camera to send my photo to her mother.
“And she wants me to stay over so we can do our homework together.”
Seconds later, she closed up the phone.
“Easy peasy. As soon as she saw that you were a girl, she relaxed.”
“I’ve never had anyone stay over before,” I admitted, and sat next to her on the bed.
She put her arm around my shoulders.
“Hey, you’re a sad case, aren’t you?”
I tried to be tough, but it didn’t work. Some tears came, and all my stress came out. She hugged me for a few minutes, then I pulled myself together.
“I’m sorry Jenny, but you’re the first person I’ve ever told.”
“Hey, don’t worry. Look, is your Dad away all weekend?”
“I suppose, yeah.”
“Why don’t we go into town and see a movie or something.”
“What like this?”
“Why not? Have you anything that I could wear?” she asked.
I showed her all the clothes I had amassed over the last few years, and she was amazed. Some of my mother’s evening dresses were expensive top designer-names.
She dressed in a skirt and top, not too dissimilar to me, and I thought she looked stunning. I told her, and she smiled.
I smiled, as I was so happy. It had been a dream of mine for ages, but I lacked the courage to do it alone.
We caught the bus into Brighton and went for a pizza. We sat and talked girly talk, so I was able to ask her advice on so many things from clothes and makeup to my mannerisms.
“So, what about boys?” she asked.
“What about them?” I asked, going very red.
She laughed. “What do you think about boys?”
I thought for a moment.
“At school, they tend to either tease me, or ignore me, so I ignore them. But when I’m alone, dressed like this, I fantasise that I have a lover.”
“Do you fancy boys or girls?”
I smiled. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, but I see girls as friends, and I think I look at boys as a normal girl would. How about you, have you a boyfriend?”
It was her turn to blush.
“Yeah, he’s called Mike, and he is in the upper sixth,” she said. We were both in the lower sixth, having taken our GCSEs last summer.
“Cool. How long have you been going out?”
“A few weeks. We met at a party just after Christmas.”
I was quiet, as I tried to imagine myself with a boy. It gave me a warm feeling, and then I remembered what I had between my legs.
“I can fancy them all I want, but I’m not a real girl, so there’s no point,” I said, rather dejectedly.
“You could fool everyone.”
“That’s not the point. What happens when I like a guy enough to, you know, gets a bit heavy, and he finds you know what?”
“There are guys who like that.”
“I don’t care, I don’t want to be what they call me, a little queer, a queen, a faggot. I want to be a real girl, with the right equipment. So I want straight guys to fancy me, I’m not a gay.”
Jenny looked a little sad for me, so I smiled. I told her about the chat rooms and all the guys who would hit on me on line.
“There are TG rooms, but I stay in the straight rooms, and all the guys who chat me up think I’m a real girl. I post my pics to them, and hey, even you say I pass.”
She smiled again.
“Sandi, you’re more a girl than many of my friends.”
“Thanks, I need to hear that.”
“So what are you going to do about your dad?”
I shrugged.
“I can’t hide what I am for much longer. I’m seventeen in a couple of weeks, so legally I can have the operations done without his consent, but I’ll have to tell him eventually. He will go ballistic.”
I stirred my coffee, watching the brown liquid circle in the cup.
“Jenny!” shouted a female voice. We looked up, and saw Caroline Warren from school.
“Shit,” I said, under my breath.
“Don’t panic,” whispered Jenny.
“Hi Caroline. What you doing?” Jenny asked.
Caroline and another girl I didn’t know came over.
“This is my cousin, Andrea, from Devon. She and her parents have come over for a family funeral tomorrow, so we both get out of school for a day,” Caroline said, looking at me. She frowned as she tried to place me.
“Hi Caroline,” I said.
“Shit, Sandi? It is. Bloody hell, I always thought you were a boy.”
I smiled and shrugged, saying nothing.
The two girls sat down at our table, as Caroline turned to her cousin.
“This is Sandi, she and Jenny are in my class at school. But Sandi always dresses to hide the fact she’s a girl. I wasn’t sure whether she was a girl or a boy, but now I know. Why don’t you dress like this at school?”
“I like keeping people guessing, it gives me a kick,” I said, still not confirming her assumption.
Caroline laughed, while Jenny was watching me like a hawk.
We chatted about trivialities for a bit, and eventually they left. We finished our coffees and paid the bill.
“Well, the whole school will know soon,” I said.
“So?”
I shrugged again, things were getting out of my control, and I didn’t like it.
We walked round the shops for a while, and I bought some new clothes. Then went to see a movie, and I just felt so at home as a girl. The movie had Nicole Kidman and George Clooney in it, and I fantasised about being in his arms, and I went all the way.
We caught the bus back home, and sat watching the late movie together on the large sofa eating microwave popcorn. I then showed Jenny my many chat-room profiles with pictures, and logged on. Within seconds, Stallion2000 PM’ed me, and with little or no chat we were being very graphic, and after I told him what I was wearing, he undressed me, and we had cyber sex.
Jenny sat next to me, with her mouth open. Not so much at the concept, but at my graphic terminology and powers of description.
After ten minutes, the guy, obviously satisfied, disconnected, so I followed suit, despite a list of six or seven guys all waiting for their turn with me.
“I can’t believe what you just did?”
“What?”
“You just brought a total stranger to orgasm on the other side of the Atlantic, just by talking dirty.”
“Cool, isn’t it?” I said.
“No wonder you don’t have time for friends,” she said with a grin. “It even turned me on a little.”
We changed for bed. I loaned her one of my many nightdresses, and she declined to stay in the spare room.
“Do you mind if I share your bed?” she asked.
I shrugged.
“I don’t mind, but remember, I’m hardly a boy anymore.”
She looked at me, taking in my figure. We sat on the bed and she asked to see my genitalia.
I showed her.
“It’s tiny,” she said.
“It’s still too big for me.”
“Mike’s is huge compared to yours.”
“Mike hasn’t been taking female hormones for two years.”
“Does it work any more?”
I shook my head.
“Only to pee.”
We snuggled into bed, and I was asleep long after her. I smiled, I was in bed with a girl for the first time in my life, and she was as safe as houses.
Chapter 2
I awoke before her, and dressed. I was making breakfast when she appeared. She put a little make up on me, just to highlight my eyes, and a little neutral lip-gloss. It was against the rules to wear make up, but they allowed a little. As we were sixth formers, there was even more leeway. The upper sixth got to wear their own clothes, so the school-uniform was abandoned.
She helped me shape my nails and put on a clear varnish. I loved their look, and I felt more feminine than usual today.
We caught the bus to school, and the daily grind started once more. At lunchtime, Jenny and I were in the cafeteria, keeping ourselves to ourselves when her boyfriend Mike came over.
Mike Hardy was the captain of the first XV, and was a big bloke with short dark hair. He was eighteen and looked older. There were two other boys with him, they were in his year, and I knew them by sight only.
“Hi Jen. Are you okay?” he said, sitting next to her.
“Hi Mike, I’m fine.”
“I tried ringing you last night. Your Mum said you were staying with a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, you know Sandi?” she said, looking at me.
I flicked my hair back, and smiled.
He looked at me for the first time, taking in the makeup.
“Oh, hi Sandi. You’re the one who dresses as a boy. Half the school don’t know you are a girl.”
I just smiled, once again saying nothing.
“She likes making people guess,” Jenny said.
“Forget it, Sandi. You’re too attractive to fool people anymore,” said one of the boys standing next to us. I looked up, and he stared me right in the eyes in a bold and unashamed way. I returned the stare, so he broke away first. I looked at him closely.
He was slightly shorter than Mike, around the six-foot mark, but he was as broad. He had fair hair and a lovely smile. I found myself admiring him in a very feminine manner. He caught my look and smiled at me, I flushed and had to smile and look away.
He sat next to me.
“I’m David Carter,” he said, and offered me his hand.
I gave him mine, so he shook it gently, giving me a little squeeze.
“Hi David. Sandi Lake. Nice to met you,” I said, slightly breathless. What the heck was happening to me?
We chatted for a while, and eventually we had to leave and go to our next class.
“Hey, Sandi, have you got a mobile?” David asked.
I heard myself give him my number, and Jenny grinned and led me away.
“Well. There is no doubt what you think about boys,” she said.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” I said, horrified at my reactions.
“You almost drooled at him,” she said, giggling unmercifully at my obvious discomfort.
I was distracted for most of the afternoon, as I could not stop thinking about his smile.
I was called into see the head at the end of the day. I knew that this was coming, and I was dreading it.
“Sit down, Sandi,” he said.
I sat, and he closed the door.
He went behind his desk, taking out the latest letter from my doctor.
He re-read it, and then looked at me.
I felt very uncomfortable.
“Sandi, I’m sorry, but this can’t go on,” he said, not unkindly.
I nodded.
“You have to clarify the situation and bring your father into the loop. There is so much speculation about you, that it is very unhealthy. It also could damage the school’s standing in the community, and if the press were to be involved, I shudder to think what would happen.”
I nodded again. “Are you excluding me?” I asked.
He smiled.
“No, what for? You’re a good student, your grades at GCSE were exceptional, and I cannot complain about your behaviour or your attitude. You dress in a very ambiguous way, and do not make a spectacle of yourself. No, Sandi, I am not going to exclude you, but I will ask you to dress more as a girl.”
I frowned.
“You see, you look more like a girl than a boy now, and there was even a sweepstake in the staff room last week as to your real gender. I had to step in and put an end to it, but as the only person who knows the truth, more people, staff and pupils, believe you are a girl than a boy, now.”
“I can’t. My dad will kill me,” I said.
He stared at me.
“Then we need to hold a meeting with your father, the doctors and myself. It is truth time, my girl,” he said.
I looked up sharply as he said the last two words, and smiled in spite of my depression.
“I suppose so, but he’s in the States at the moment.”
“How long is he away?”
“A few more days, I think,” I said.
“Then we’ll meet as soon as he gets back. I will arrange it with the doctors, and we will have it here. So, shall we say Tuesday week, in the evening in my office?”
I nodded.
“I know this is a difficult time for you, but I believe things will be better in the open.”
“May I know what the doctor said?”
He picked up the letter.
“She tells me that the last psychiatric assessment was conducted last week, and that Dr Manning believes that you are overdue to transition and begin living wholly as a female. She explains that psychologically you are female, and your physiological state is about as feminine as possible without actual surgery. She also tells me that your case has been discussed, and that several surgical procedures have been approved, pending continued psychological evaluations.
“In other words, your transition to being a girl has been approved.”
I smiled sadly once more.
“My Dad will still kill me,” I said.
“Let’s see about that,” he said.
I left his office, slightly depressed on the one hand, yet elated on the other. I had known that the doctor was going to discuss my case with the powers that be, but was not aware that the green light had been given.
Jenny was waiting for me at the bus stop. She had let two buses go, I was pleased.
“Hi, are you okay?” she asked, looking concerned. This was a new experience for me, as no one had really cared about me before.
I told her about my meeting with the head, and she took my arm. We sat in the shelter, as it started to rain.
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked.
“I have to help out at the hotel. There is a large function booked, and I’m helping with the waitressing. It gets me some extra pocket money.”
“Cool,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Hey, do you want to help too?”
“What, you mean as a girl?”
“Duh. You wouldn’t make a very convincing waiter.”
I smiled.
“Okay, if you are sure your parents won’t mind.”
“Mind? They will be ecstatic. They can never get enough waitresses,” she told me.
A car pulled up, a small blue Vauxhall Nova.
“Hey girls, how do you fancy a lift?” It was David, with Mike in the passenger seat.
Jenny looked at me, and I shrugged. I seemed to shrug an awful lot these days.
“Come on,” she said, accepting his offer.
We clambered in the back seats, as he took off down the road, very fast.
“David, if you’re going to drive like a tosser, then let me out now!” I heard myself say.
He slowed down, and half turned towards me.
“Sorry,” he said, grinning sheepishly.
“Just remember, I’m not impressed by boy-racers,” I said, as Jenny started to giggle, and even Mike laughed.
“Under the thumb already, and you only met her at lunchtime,” he told David. I blushed furiously.
“So what are you two doing tonight?” Mike asked.
“Sandi and I are working at the hotel, waitressing.”
“Cool, we’ll have to come and have a pint then,” said David, and I saw him look at me in the mirror. I blushed again.
We chatted about a school and exams for a bit. The guys had their A levels after Easter, so were nearly finished with school. Mike wanted to be a doctor, but David was hoping to join the Royal Air Force and be a pilot.
“You’re too tall for a fighter pilot,” I said.
“I fancy helicopters,” he said.
“The Navy and Army have more than the RAF,” I said. He looked at me in his mirror again, as if to say, ‘how do you know?’
“I read it somewhere,” I explained.
We came to my house, where they dropped me off, so I told Jenny I would be up by six on my moped.
I dashed in and checked the answer-phone — no messages, not that I expected any, but sometimes Dad would leave a message if he was on his way home, or had been delayed or something.
I changed into my proper clothes, so when I had finished, the girl looked back, and I felt right again. My breast forms were so realistic that the nipples showed through my bra and tee shirt. I wore jeans as I was going to ride my moped. I put my high heels into the box, with a white blouse and short dark skirt. I wore tights under my jeans.
I put on my makeup, but found my hands trembling with excitement. I didn’t know whether it was the fact I was going to be on view to everyone as a girl, or that David might see me.
It took me five minutes to reach the hotel. It was set on a separate headland, with a small private beach below.
I parked the bike and went to the back door.
The kitchen was in turmoil. A large lady dressed all in white looked at me.
“Hello, can I help?”
“I’m Jenny’s friend, Sandi. I’ve come to help as a waitress.”
“Hi Sandi. I’m Liz, the chef. I also happen to be Jenny’s mother. Have you got the right clothes?”
I held up my skirt and blouse.
“Super, look, see that phone on the wall? Be a sweetie, dial one-oh-two and that’s our apartment. Jenny will come and collect you. You can change in the flat.” With that, she turned back to whatever she was doing.
I called up, so within moments Jenny had collected me, and I found myself led to their small flat on the first floor at the back of the hotel.
She was already changed, but as I changed, she watched me, shaking her head.
“I still can’t believe you are a boy,” she said.
“I don’t think I am any more.”
I redid my makeup, so she passed me a bottle of red nail varnish.
Twenty minutes later, we presented ourselves to her father in the dining room.
Her father, John Armstrong, was a big man, which was just as well when I recalled her mother.
“Hi, you must be Sandi?” he said, shaking my hand.
“Hello Mr Armstrong,” I said.
“You both look great, just make sure you avoid the gropers,” he said.
I frowned. “Gropers?”
“It’s a rugby club dinner, so the guys get a bit fresh after a few beers,” Jenny explained.
“Okay, Jenny, just run through the drill with her, and she can work with you on the top table, okay?” he said.
Jenny showed me what to do, explaining how they managed to serve everyone as quickly as possible. She showed me how to serve vegetables, and from which side to approach. She showed me how to clear and carry dirty dishes, and where to take them.
No sooner than she’d finished, the first of the diners started to arrive. There were about one hundred of them; fortunately, their wives and partners accompanied most of the men.
The top table had twenty places. There were four other long tables, each with about twenty place settings. Each table had two waiters or waitresses, so it was not long before we brought out the starters.
It was a hectic time, and many of the men tried to chat me up as I worked. I smiled and flirted gently, explaining that this was my first time. This got the usual response, ‘well I’ll treat you gently then,’ so I smiled as if it was all new to me — which it was.
The drinks flowed, and several of the men were well-oiled by the coffee stage. One man tried to slip his hand up my short skirt, so I threatened to pour scalding coffee over him. He laughed but rapidly removed his hand from my leg.
My legs and feet ached. I noticed that the other girls wore sensible shoes, so I now knew why. My feet looked very good in high heels, but they ached abominably.
We cleared the tables, so then they had some speeches, as the rugby season was now over. The handed out various awards, and afterwards we helped remove some tables, before the disco started. A couple of the guys asked me to join them for the disco, and Jenny shook her head at me from across the room.
“I’m sorry, but I still have work to do, and my boyfriend is due to come and pick me up,” I lied.
By ten o’clock, I collapsed onto a chair in the rest room, and took my shoes off. I massaged my aching feet. Jenny’s Dad came in.
“Well done. You managed very well,” he said, giving me an envelope. “By the way, several of the men wanted you to have a special tip, but all tips go into a pool, so everyone gets fair shares. The organiser wanted you and Jenny to have this for being so charming to all the top table.
He gave me a £50 note. I was staggered.
“Thanks,” I stammered. I had made over £100 in four hours.
Jenny came in.
“Hi, guess who’s in the bar?” she said.
My heart gave a lurch.
“Dave?”
“And Mike.”
I put my shoes back on.
I checked my make up and followed her out, pulling my skirt down a little, as it rode up whenever I sat down.
They were sitting at the bar, each with a pint in front of them. Mike saw Jenny and nudged Dave. He turned and looked our way. He saw me, and his expression will be imprinted on my mind for a very long time. His eyes widened and his mouth opened, and I saw his gaze travel down my body, down my legs to my shoes and back up, resting for some time on my breasts. Then he smiled, and my heart fluttered.
“Hi,” I said, and he gaped at me.
“Why the fuck do you dress like you do at school?”
“Because I don’t want to keep fighting off randy boys who want to pester me,” I said.
He smiled, nodding slowly.
“I can see that, now. Shit. Sandi, you are stunning.”
At that moment, he could have asked me to do anything for him, and I would have done it willingly. He had just made my year. No, he just made my life!
“Drink?”
“How about a long OJ?” I asked.
“Nothing alcoholic?”
“Jenny’s Dad doesn’t need to lose his licence by serving underage girls in his hotel,” I pointed out.
“There is no way anyone will know you are under eighteen.”
“I’m sixteen, and her Dad knows it,” I said. He shrugged and ordered me a drink.
I perched on the stool next to him, and his gaze slid down to take in my long legs.
“Seen enough?” I teased, and he had the grace to go red.
“Sorry, but you have an amazing body.”
You had better believe it. I thought.
I smiled coyly.
“Did you have a busy evening?” he asked.
“Yeah, but we coped,” I said, seeing that Jenny and Mike were engrossed in their own conversation.
“How come I have never noticed you before?”
“Probably because I try hard not to be noticed.”
“Why?”
I shrugged.
“Dave, it is a long and rather sad story, and at the moment I am not prepared to talk about. One day I will, but things are a bit weird for me at the moment.”
He looked at me, and then at my legs again.
“Hey, why don’t we sit at the table over there?” he said, nodding to the table in the window.
“Okay.”
We moved, and sat close together on a soft bench. I felt less precarious, and less on display.
“Sandi, can I ask you a personal question?”
“What?”
“Have you got a boyfriend?”
I shook my head.
He nodded.
“Why not?” he asked, up front. I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Speak your mind, why don’t you?”
“I’m sorry, but you are too attractive not to have a bloke.”
“Dave, I told you, it’s complicated. I can’t tell you more at the moment, but believe me, I’m not really like other girls.”
“You are far more beautiful than most.”
I almost started to cry, so he could see I was upset. He took my hand, and held it firmly.
“What did I say?”
“Dave, just believe me, you don’t want to get involved with me.”
He stared at me for a while.
“You aren’t gay are you?”
I laughed out loud.
“Oh, if it were that simple,” I said, and he frowned.
“You’ve lost me,” he admitted.
“Dave, let’s go for a walk, and I’ll try to explain,” I said, still not sure whether I should.
We went outside, and the sea breeze was cold. I folded my arms and shivered. He took me to his car and opened the passenger door for me. I got in, so he got in behind the wheel.
“I need to be honest, but you have to realise how hard this is for me. What I tell you now could destroy me, and it will certainly affect how you see me, and I fully expect to have my heart broken too,” I said.
He frowned.
I tried to make some order to my chaotic thought process.
“Sandi. I think I know,” he said, and I looked at him. His face was hardly visible in the dark.
“Go on,” I said, hardly daring to breathe.
“Okay, here’s how. One, you dress like a boy, and you use a deliberately ambiguous name, which could be either. You don’t mix, and as far as I can find out, have few friends. Those who do know you don’t know whether you are a girl or not. I have asked nearly everyone I can think of, and although some think you’re a girl, most aren’t sure.
“I even asked the PE coach, and she was evasive, and I find you are excused all physical activities. Very rare, so this evening, I did a little detective work, and still I have been unable to find anyone who knows you well enough. I started to think that you could be a bloke who was effeminate, but then you walked into the bar, and, shit, you completely shot that theory away.
“But, now I reckon, I know.”
“Yes?”
“You are an hermaphrodite.”
I started to laugh, and then had to stop, as he looked rather hurt.
“Oh Dave, lovely thought, but no. You were on the right track earlier. It doesn’t matter how I tell you, I know that I will fuck us both up for ever.”
He looked at me, still frowning.
“Dave, I was christened Alexander. From the age of six, I knew I should have been a girl. For some years, I’ve been taking female hormones, so am more a girl than a boy now. In a few weeks I will have the first of many surgical procedures that will mean I will be a girl for the rest of my life, but the reality is that legally I am a boy,” I said, sitting back to wait for the fireworks.
To my amazement, they never came.
“How many others know?”
“Just the Head, Jenny, and perhaps a couple of teachers. Why?”
“Look, this is heavy, right?”
“Just a bit.”
“So your parents don’t even know, right?”
“My Mum’s dead, there is just my Dad and he will probably kill me if he finds out.”
“If! Surely he must be blind and stupid if he can’t see the truth?”
“I suppose he’s a bit of both, but then I sort of hide things when he’s around.”
“So, you are a bit short of friends, right now?”
I laughed. “Apart from Jenny, I don’t have any.”
“Would you object if I was a friend?”
I looked at him.
“Dave, you don’t..”
“Shh, don’t tell me what I need and don’t need. You need a friend, and I want to be there for you. I’ll be honest, I fancy you rotten, and I find I don’t really care what you are legally. To me you are a stunningly beautiful girl, who is as lonely as fuck, and on whom life has severely pissed on. So, short of being shagging friends, can we at least be friends?”
I started to cry. Of all the reactions I expected, this was the most unexpected and disconcerting. I felt his arm slide over my shoulders, and I leaned towards him, and he held me close, his cheek against my temple.
“It’s okay. Really, its okay,” he repeated, over and over again.
I don’t know how long we were there for, but eventually he slowly disentangled himself. He looked at me, and I saw his eyes glint in the headlights of a passing car.
“Sandi, are you okay?”
I nodded. Unsure whether I could trust myself to speak.
He gently kissed my forehead, and I looked up in surprise. His next kiss was on my lips. I responded, and we kissed for several seconds.
“You even kiss like a girl,” he said. I sensed him smiling.
“How many blokes have you kissed?” I teased.
“None, and I don’t intend to, ever,” he said, and it almost made me cry again.
“I thought you said, just friends?” I said.
“Do you mind?”
“Don’t be silly.” I said, and I saw his teeth gleam as he smiled.
“That is my first kiss, ever.” I admitted.
I felt his hand on my chin, and he lifted my face and kissed me again.
This time I responded with as much passion as I could, and I was left completely breathless with desire.
He broke off.
“Do you like it?”
“Don’t be silly.” I said.
He laughed, and opened the door. The interior light came on, and he looked at me.
“Your mascara has run, so you may want to fix it.”
Using the vanity mirror behind the sun flap, I licked a tissue and cleaned myself up.
I got out of the car, so then we walked slowly back to the bar. He placed an arm around my shoulders.
I stopped and looked at him.
“Dave, I don’t want you to get hurt by anything I do.”
He smiled.
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, so do you mind if I just stay for the ride, and see where it takes us?” he said.
I stared at him, speechless.
“What?” I asked, eventually, and incredulously.
“You heard.”
“But you don’t know me.”
“I know more than I did. And I feel the same about you, girl, so just accept that I am now part of your life for as long as it takes.”
I wrapped my arm around his waist, and gave him a hug.
“But I’m not a proper g…”
He put one finger to my lips.
“Don’t ever mention that again. Ever.” he said, rather harshly.
He then kissed me again, and I felt all warm and fuzzy.
We returned to the bar, and Jenny was making strange faces at me. I had to laugh.
The guys left, and Dave openly kissed me in front of everyone.
Jenny was agog to find out what had happened between us.
“I turned round and you two had gone. What happened?”
“We went to his car, and I told him the truth.” I said.
“No? How did he take it?”
“He made me cry. He told me he loved me, and that he would stand by me through everything I have to go through. He told me that as far as he was concerned, I was a girl, and that was all there was to it.”
She stared at me and, to my surprise, she had tears in her eyes.
She gave me a big hug.
“Oh, thank God. You’ve now got two friends to help you.”
I hugged her back.
“That’s two more than last week,” I said, and we both laughed.
I went home and slept well, dreaming of more than kissing my first boyfriend.
Life groaned on, the weekend passed, and Dave was involved with his family. Jenny was busy, and I met her on the bus to school on Monday morning. I was a little more effeminate this time, and she grinned at me conspiratorially.
The day passed, and each time I saw Dave, he smiled at me, and I went all gooey. We had lunch together, and I saw Caroline talking with some other girls and looking my way.
It was a relief to get on the bus to go home at the end of the day. Thus passed the week, each day, I would be a little more effeminate, yet never actually crossing the line I had made.
Dad returned on Wednesday, and almost immediately was off again, only for one day, but it allowed me another evening as a waitress at the hotel.
I was more relaxed now, and the evening sped past. I wore more sensible shoes this time, so was spared such sore feet.
I returned home, and started to worry about the forthcoming meeting with the doctors and the head. My Dad was not going to be an easy nut to crack.
He returned on Sunday, and was very jovial. He took me out for Sunday lunch at a pub, and I caught him looking at me.
“I got a letter from your headmaster,” he said.
“Oh?” I said.
“I have to attend a meeting with him on Tuesday. Do you know why?”
“Yes,” I said, my heart in my mouth.
He stared at me for some time.
“Alex, look, I know that I have not really been around for you. But, I am not blind.”
I stared at him, my conversation with Dave coming back to haunt me.
“Neither am I stupid.”
I still stared.
“Do you know how much you look like your mother?”
I shook my head.
“Over the last few months, as most boys get bigger and hairier, you have become more and more effeminate. What with your long hair, earrings and everything, your whole body screams, girl, at me. Hell, several times I have had to pinch myself, it is as if your mother has come back to haunt me.”
I looked down at my hands. I saw the shaped nails, and even some of the varnish was still in the cuticles.
“Alex, are you gay?” he asked, bluntly.
I shook my head.
He frowned.
“Dad, ever since I was six, I wanted to be a girl.”
He stared at me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I? You used to ridicule and swear at anyone you considered a poof.”
He nodded and looked hurt. I looked away.
“So, why the meeting?”
“Dad, I’m seventeen soon, and I want to change sex,” I said, with my heart in my mouth.
He stared at me, again. I saw the muscles in his face working, and was afraid.
“That bad, huh?”
I was surprised at his gentle tone, so I nodded.
“Is there any chance you are wrong?” he asked, still gently.
I shook my head.
“I’ve been on hormones too long. I could never be a proper man now, in any case,” I admitted.
He looked out of the window.
“Dad, ..”
He held up a hand, but I saw tears in his eyes.
“It is my fault. I was not the father I should have been,” he said, still unable to look at me.
“No Dad. I felt this way long before Mum left,” I said.
He looked at me then.
“Really?”
I nodded.
We talked then, for the first time ever, really talked as father and child. I told him everything. It just poured out, and my words got jumbled in my haste to tell him everything. Or nearly everything, I kept quiet about David. It took quite a long time, and by the end, he was almost in tears too. He then shared with me. He told me how much he had loved my mother, and how it was his line of work that caused her to leave. She had given him a choice, and he was too tied into something to change at that moment. So she left.
I was very quiet. I wanted to ask whether he had anything to do with her death, but didn’t have the courage. It just wasn’t the right time.
Without a word, he got up, paid the bill, and went out to the Jaguar. I followed, and he drove home in silence. He parked the car and opened the front door. He walked straight in and poured himself a large whisky. He turned and faced me.
“So, what do you want me to call you?”
“My friends call me Sandi.”
“Right, go and show me what you should look like.”
I was surprised, to say the least.
“What?”
“You heard. If I’m to have a daughter, then at least let’s see her dressed properly.”
Shaking, I turned and went to my room. I continued to shake for a long time, but managed to change. I wore a smart skirt and blouse, with a cardigan, stockings and smart high heel shoes. It took me a while to control my hands to apply my make up, and then I brushed my hair out. I put in some simple hooped earrings and varnished my fingernails.
I went downstairs in some trepidation. I heard my heels on the marble floor in the hall, and went into the sitting room. My father was staring out the window at the sea.
I stood by the door.
He turned and stared at me.
I lifted my chin and stared back, as bravely as I could manage.
He paled, and then seemed to crumple slightly. He put his glass down, holding the back of the armchair.
“My God,” he said.
I almost lost it, so was about to flee to my room.
“Alex, no, Sandi. Stay,” he whispered.
I turned and faced him.
“Come here, please love,” he asked, his voice ever so gentle now.
I walked towards him, conscious that my movements were purely feminine.
He reached out a trembling hand and lifted my chin, very gently.
He looked me up and down.
“How could I have been so blind?”
I frowned.
“Forgive me?” he asked.
That was it. I burst into tears and hugged him round his middle. He held me gently round my shoulders, and we wept together.
Chapter 3
Jenny gaped at me as I got onto the bus on Monday morning. I was a new Sandi today. I was wearing a skirt for the first time. I also did not need breast forms anymore, as my own breasts were evident with no help at all. Indeed, I filled a B cup bra with no padding.
I was wearing make up and even earrings. My father had given me a huge selection of jewellery and I had to suspect that some of it was still hot.
I sat down next to her, and she still gaped.
“What?” I asked.
“You are….”
“Yes?”
“But your dad?”
“I told him yesterday, and he didn’t kill me.”
“So?”
“He’s cool.” I said, and grinned.
I told her all about it, and when we arrived at school, my appearance caused quite a stir. I smiled and managed to ignore it all. Dave saw me, and came over to me at lunch. He stared and smiled.
“Hi babe. You look hot,” he said. A silence seemed to spread to everyone around us, as others strained to overhear what was said.
“Hi,” I said, and slowly and deliberately, he bent over and kissed me. There was a moment’s stunned silence in the cafeteria. I smiled at him.
“Thanks,” I said, very quietly.
“No problem,” he said, and walked off.
I never looked back.
The meeting was held, and my father was at his most charming to everyone, and gave his consent, even though at seventeen I would not need it. The Head decided that I was to wear female attire from this day on, and records at the school would be altered to show me as female.
I went into hospital on a Friday evening, so on the Saturday morning I had my useless testicles removed, and the doctor told me that it was just in time. A growth was on one of them, and although benign, she suspected that it could have turned malignant quickly. I had my meeting with the psychiatrist, and I was dressed as a girl. He agreed that SRS was the only valid option, and I met the consultant Mr Rogersen.
He was charm personified, and he explained everything he would do, and why. It was actually far more involved as I had naively believed, and would put me in hospital for nearly a week, and with several weeks’ recovery thereafter. He told me that I had youth on my side, and I should heal quickly. He had done the same procedure on people in their sixties, and then it was a major operation.
A date was set for the end of July - only four months away.
Dad asked me to pop into Woolworths and get some passport style photos done of me as a girl. I knew enough not to ask any questions, so simply did as I was asked.
The Easter Holidays arrived, so I spent a lot of the time working at the hotel. So much so, that I would often get up in my waitress outfit. Dad accepted me now, and we talked more now than at any other time. I enjoyed keeping house for him, and even my culinary expertise moved up to the ‘edible’ stage. He used to tease me and call me his ‘kept woman’ or his ‘hand-maiden’. I actually liked it, as he had come to terms with me far better than I had ever hoped.
One day, Dad had gone out, and I was at home changing the beds, one of my many chores about the house.
I was wearing my waitress skirt and top, as I was due at the hotel in an hour, and I head voices in the hall. I went out on the landing, and saw three strange men standing there.
One saw me, and he pointed and the other two came running up the stairs.
I retreated into my Dad’s room and tried shutting the door, but it was forced open, and I was grabbed.
I was dragged, kicking and screaming down stairs and held in front of the first man.
“Shut up, you silly tart. Where is he?” he asked. He had an East End accent.
“Who?”
“Johnny Lake.”
“I don’t know. He left earlier today, I think.”
The other men were going through all the rooms.
“Where is the boy?”
“What boy?”
“His son, Alexander?”
I shrugged.
“Who are you?” he asked.
It dawned on me that they didn’t know who I was. I thought quickly.
“Sandi. I work at the hotel up the road as a waitress and a maid. I get paid extra to come here and I make the beds and stuff.”
“Fuck.”
“No one here, Bruce,” said one of the men.
“You related?”
“To whom?” I asked, and he laughed.
“Not to fucking Johnny, speaking like that. When are they due back?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, listen close, darling, we’re going to wait here for them, so you keep nice and quiet and you won’t get hurt. Okay?”
“I’m due to be back at work at the hotel. If I don’t go, they’ll come looking and may even call the police.” I said.
“Bollocks.” said one of the men.
The man called Bruce looked at his watch.
“All right, you go. But if you call the police, or tell anyone about us, I will find you and I will cut your fucking throat. Get me?” Bruce said.
My hand went to my neck, involuntarily.
“I get you.”
“Finish up, and get the fuck out, this is private business, so just stay quiet and no one will ever know.”
I ran up stairs, grabbed my case, and as many clothes as I could. I heaved my case out of my window, and heard it land in the flowerbed outside. I stuffed all my makeup and stuff into a small bag and grabbed my shoebox with all my money in it. I then ran from the house, leaped onto my moped, and disappeared round the bend. Once out of sight, I stopped and parked up. I walked back, crept round the side of the house and collected my case. All the stuff left in my room was Alexander’s, so my complete female side was now in my hands.
I managed to lug the case to my moped, and rode precariously up the road to the hotel.
I ran in and found Jenny. I told her what had happened, so she was really worried.
I tried calling my father on his mobile, and left a message.
I contemplated telling the police, but knew that if it went wrong, then the men would come to the hotel. I didn’t want to cause them any trouble.
Jenny ensconced me in her room, as she had two beds in there.
We worked the dinner as usual, and towards the end of the meal, I saw the man called Bruce look in the dining room. He saw me, and waved me over.
“Just checking.” he said, very quietly and menacingly.
“What do you want?” I asked, afraid now.
“You were a good girl. Now, keep sensible, and you’ll do fine. You could have called the cops, and you didn’t, that shows you’re not stupid. Now, I want you to pass a message to Johnny.”
“What message?”
“Tell him that we have his son, and if he wants to see the little fucker again, then he pays us what he owes. Got that?”
“You have Alex?” I asked, surprised to say the least.
“Not yet, but we will. Just pass the message, okay?”
“What name?”
“He’ll know, and no cops, or this nice hotel might burn down.”
He was gone.
“Shit,” I said, and Jenny came over.
“Who was that?”
“One of the men.”
“What did he want?”
I told her, and she laughed.
“They never guessed.”
“So, they’re still very nasty people.” I said.
I went and tried Dad again. To my relief he answered his phone. I told him everything, and he went very quiet.
“Dad?”
“You did fine, just stay put, and don’t say anything to anyone. I’m sorry that this happened, I never meant for you to get caught up in any of this.” he said, and put the phone down.
I was at my wits end, as I hadn’t a clue what was going on. Jenny told her parents that I was having some trouble at home, and I needed somewhere to stay for a while, and gratefully I accepted their hospitality.
The next day, I had an appointment with Dr Shepherd, so I rode off on my moped.
She was surprised to see me as nervous as I was. I tried to explain that it was a family problem, and not related to my condition. She told me she was upping my doses of oestrogen, and as there was little testosterone in my system, I could expect certain side effects.
“Like what?”
“Mood swings, lethargy, tiredness, aching joints, possible nausea and heightened sensitivity to the breasts.”
“Great,” I said, and she laughed.
She had me strip off and examined me.
“How are you down there?” she asked, indicating my groin.
“Fine, or it will be when the rest has gone,” I said, and she smiled.
She gently probed my breasts.
“These are quite firm. How tender are they?”
“A little sore when prodded, but not too bad.”
“You’re quite big already, you can expect a little more growth, so I don’t know if you will need implants.”
“Oh, how come?”
“I think your self-administered hormones helped, you never had a chance to start developing as a man.”
“Oh.”
“Your figure is almost perfect. You are so lucky to be young enough to start.”
“Tell me about it.”
She smiled. “How is your father about it all?”
I shrugged.
“Not exactly thrilled, but he accepts me, at least.”
“So many don’t, you’re quite fortunate.”
“Hmm,” I said. I would swap my dad for an honest one any day.
She looked at my head, chin and throat.
“What are you looking for?”
“Sometimes the male characteristics lie in the jaw, nose and throat. But, once again, you’ve managed to prevent secondary male characteristics, as you have no Adam’s apple, or a firm male jaw line. In fact you are remarkably feminine and a very pretty girl.”
I smiled, and she told me to get dressed.
She gave me an implant in my thigh. It would slowly release female hormones over a six-month period, and then I could replace it. I was resigned to the fact that I would be taking hormones for the rest of my life.
I was leaving the surgery when Dad’s Jaguar pulled into the car park.
He opened the passenger door from the inside.
“Get in.”
I got in.
He drove fast out and down the road. Pulling into a car park in an industrial estate.
He looked at me.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded. “What’s happening, Dad?”
“You don’t need to know. I’m in the shit, so I’m going to have a fucking job to get out of this one. So listen.
“The house is in your name. That is as Alexandra Lake. The solicitor has all the details. Here’s a passport and birth certificate as Sandi Hemmings, the birth certificate is a bloody good forgery. It is a complete replica of a real one, even down to the serial numbers. Only the gender and names are different, so forget Alexander Dean Lake ever existed. But the passport is the real thing, it was applied for quite legitimately. Use them for everything, until you know that you are safe. There is a card with all the details of the solicitor. Okay?
“Change the name on the registration document of your moped, to Sandi Hemmings, that way no one will trace it to the Lake family. Don’t forget the insurance as well. You will need to apply for a drivers licence in both names, so you don’t drop yourself in the shit with the Old Bill.
“I’ve put a lump sum in a safe deposit box in a bank in New York. The account is in your name, as Sandi Lake that is, and here’s the key, and the account details. Don’t for fuck sakes lose it. In my bedroom floor is a safe. Everything in it is yours, if you don’t see me again. The combination is your birthday. Don’t go back to the house for a while, and I mean it. It’s not safe, they will be watching for anyone to go there.”
He stared at me for a few seconds, and then reached out and took my hand. My mind was in a complete whirl, how the hell could I remember all this?
“Look, it’s too fucking late now, but I am really sorry the way things have worked out. You’re a beautiful girl, and I would have loved to have seen how things pan out from here. You never know I may, but I think this might well be goodbye.”
“Dad?”
“I’m so sorry. I’m a shit. I should have quit, but I didn’t, but I want you to know that I do love you, and I’ve done everything I can to ensure you at least have a better chance than most.”
“Stuff your money, I’d rather have you.” I said.
He looked at me, as tears came to his eyes.
He held me for a moment.
“Sandi, you’re just like your mum. You’re far too nice for me, just like she was. Just keep being nice, find a good man, and live your life to the full. I’m so proud of you. Look, I have written everything down - it’s all here in this envelope. Just remember that I love you.”
I just sat and wept.
He drove me back to the surgery and kissed me goodbye. I watched him drive away, believing that I would probably never see him alive again.
I managed to get back to the hotel in a daze, where I told Jenny what had happened. I was pretty useless for the rest of the day. She told her father, so he came and sat with me for a while. I was so frightened of getting his hotel damaged I was almost beside myself.
John was brilliant, and we kept things very quiet. The holidays ended, and we went back to school. I changed ownership of the moped to myself as Sandi Hemmings, and applied for a drivers licence in the same name, giving the hotel as my address. I even applied for insurance and so I was illegally legal. I would wait until I was legally allowed to be Alexandra Lake before I applied for anything in that name.
It was horrible waiting for a reply, as I convinced myself that they would find me out, and arrest me. But both documents were returned, and I felt a lot better.
Life was almost getting back to normal, when a big black Ford pulled up at the bus stop as I waited for a bus with Jenny.
It was Bruce.
“Get in.”
“Fuck off,” I said.
He sensed that it was not the best place to try to snatch a girl, so he got out and stood next to me.
“Go for a walk, darling,” he said to Jenny.
She looked at me, so I nodded.
“That wasn’t helpful,” he said, when Jenny was out of earshot.
“Leave me alone.”
“What’s your name?”
“I told you, Sandi.”
“Sandi what?”
“Hemmings.”
He nodded, but I could tell he was unsure of me.
“Got any ID?”
I took out my drivers licence and showed him. He read it, and looked closely at it.
“So Sandi, where do you live?”
“At the hotel, with my cousin Jenny. It’s as on my licence.”
He nodded again.
“Where are your parents?”
“They died in the States in a car crash a few years ago. I stayed with my grandparents for a while, then they became too ill, so I moved in with my aunt and uncle at the hotel.”
“Have you seen Alexander?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly.
“He hasn’t been back this term,” I said.
“Interesting that.”
“You said you had him.”
“We might at that.”
“So why ask me?”
“Have you told his old man?”
“I haven’t seen him.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Hey Sandi, are you okay, love?” came a familiar voice. It was Dave, he was standing by his car.
“Tell him you’re fine,” Bruce snarled.
“I’m fine.”
“Can I come round tonight?”
“Sure.”
“See you.”
“Bye.”
He drove off.
“Who’s that?”
“My boyfriend.”
“Hmm. Nice looking boy, I’m sure you’re a lovely couple. All right, Sandi, I want you to do something for me.”
“What?” I asked, somewhat belligerently.
He laughed. “You are a sparky girl. I need you to go to Johnnie’s house. You’ve a key, I assume?”
I nodded. “They keep it at the hotel,” I lied.
“Good, I need you to go in and bring me some pictures of the boy.”
“Who, Alex?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you had him?”
“Let’s say the little fucker is more elusive than we had anticipated.”
“Oh. Why can’t you get it yourself?”
“Well, you can never tell how Johnny boy will react, he has been known to take such things seriously.”
“If I do this, will you leave me alone?”
“Maybe,” he said, and then sighed. “Look, this isn’t your business, and you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, do this, and we’ll leave you alone. Okay?”
I nodded. I didn’t believe him, and I certainly didn’t trust him, but I went with him to his car, and Jenny looked very worried.
“I’ll see you at the hotel in a while,” I shouted.
“Sure?”
I nodded.
“Good girl, you’re bright enough, aren’t you?”
“She gets worried, she would call the police.”
I was in the back, next to Bruce, and the other two men were in the car as well. Not a word was spoken all the way there.
They parked a little way up the road.
I walked down and opened the front door. There were some letters on the floor. None for me, so I put them on the hall table. The alarm was set, so I turned it off, and walked to dad’s bedroom. I knew there was a picture of me taken a couple of years ago, when I had very short hair. I looked at it, and realised immediately that they might see it was me. My heart sank.
I heard a noise outside, so I went to the window. One of the men was walking round the back of the house. I could see Bruce standing up the road, with the car behind him. The driver remained in the car, smoking a cigarette.
Suddenly, there was the most almighty explosion, and the car erupted in a fireball, blown to small pieces. The man was sitting there one moment, and the next was disintegrated.
The blast knocked Bruce over, so he sprawled on the road, while the other man ran towards the scene as fast as he could. I watched, amazed, as the man started to help Bruce to his feet, as a big truck came round the bend in the road, taking them both out against the centre of the front grille. Bruce was thrown to the right but the other man disappeared under the front of the truck. They looked like discarded rag dolls, the front wheel grinding Bruce into the tarmac.
I stared in horror for a second, as I recognised my father’s face, pale behind the steering wheel of the truck. The brakes came on, and one of the figures stirred on the road. I saw the white reversing lamps come on, and slowly the truck returned, reversing over the injured man.
I felt sick, so dashed to the loo and puked up into the toilet. When I came back, the truck was gone and the piles of meat and clothing, that had been men, were motionless on the road. I hurriedly reset the alarm, locked the house up, and literally ran all the way to the hotel.
I arrived, breathless; to find Jenny very worried about me.
We ran to her room, where I told her what had happened.
“Shit, want do we do now?” she asked.
I shrugged, this could be habit forming.
“Let’s take one step at a time. Did anyone know I went home?”
“No.”
“Did you tell anyone I went with those men in their car?”
“No.”
“Then you must say that I came back shortly after you.”
“What if the police come looking for you?”
“Then that’s my problem, you know nothing.”
Dave appeared later, asking me about the strange man he had seen talking to me. I told him that the man was someone who knew my Dad, and he wanted some papers. He dropped it, but I could tell he wasn’t sure. I don’t think I was very good company so he left quite early.
It was a day later when a tired looking police officer attended the hotel. He had been making enquiries as to who lived at the house, and eventually someone said that they might know something about it at the hotel.
It was inevitable, but I had to speak to him.
“Hello, Miss. Do you know who lives at the house called Seaview?”
“I do.”
“You do?” his voice registering surprise.
“I live there with my father. But he is away on business at the moment, so I am staying here with my friend.”
“When were you last at your house?”
“To stay, about a week ago. But I had to pick up some clothes, mail and stuff occasionally every now and again.”
“What’s your name?”
“Sandi Lake.”
“And your father is?”
“Jonathon Lake. Why, has something happened?”
“Were you at the house today?”
“I dropped in after school, to check the mail.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know, after four sometime, it would be on the alarm record, as I had to switch it off and on again. I was only there a few minutes.”
“Did you notice anything happen on the road?”
“As I was walking back here, a lorry was driving rather fast past me. I heard some big noise from behind me. Was there an accident?”
“Did you not think of going to have a look?”
“I was halfway up the hill, and it was a long walk to get that far, so I figured that by the time I took fifteen minutes to run back, I would probably get in the way.” I looked down. “Besides, I’m not that good with blood.”
“What did the truck look like?”
“It was a white one, an artic.”
“You didn’t see the driver, by any chance?”
“No, it was past me too quick.”
“So it wasn’t your father driving?”
“My father? Why should it have been, he doesn’t drive trucks?”
“Was there any mail?”
“Not for me.”
“When did you last see your father?”
“A fortnight ago.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know for sure, he moves about quite a bit, on business. Are you saying you think he is involved in this?”
“Look, Miss Lake, I don’t know, but it is a possibility. Is he in the UK?”
I shrugged.
“Have you a contact number for him, a mobile or anything like that?” he asked, losing patience.
“I’ve his mobile number,” I said, and dug out my phone. I tried calling, and a female voice said it was switched off.
“It’s switched off.”
He took the number, and wrote it down.
“Could you come back with me to your house?”
“If I must. Why?”
“It will help if I can pin down the time of the incident.”
“What happened?”
“We’re not entirely sure, a car exploded and two men were found dead on the road. A full investigation is underway, and it appears to be more than a simple accident.”
“So, two men died?”
“Two on the road, one was in the car.”
“Shit, how awful. Who were they?”
“No details have been released as yet.”
“And you think my dad did it?”
“I don’t know who did it. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
I got into the police car with him, and Jenny looked out of the window, looking even more worried than before.
“Can my friend come too?”
“If you want.”
I waved for her, so she ran and jumped into the back of the car.
“What’s up?” she said.
“Some men were killed on the road near my house, and as I was home to check my mail this afternoon, I may have seen something,” I said.
“Oh.” she said, still worried.
We arrived, so I opened the door and turned off the alarm. I showed him the alarm record, and that I had turned it off at 16:38, and back on at 16:45.
“I was probably a good ten minutes up the road, at least, so the accident or whatever must have been nearly five o’clock. Were there no witnesses?”
“A van driver found it at five past five. The car was still burning.”
“I heard a sort or ‘whump’, could that have been the car?”
“Possibly,” said the policeman, noting the times on the alarm box.
“Can I just go and get some stuff from up stairs?”
“It’s your home love, do what you like?”
I went to dad’s bedroom and lifted the carpet in one corner. I never knew there was a safe in the floor.
I punched my date of birth into the pad, and the door opened upwards automatically. There was a lot of stuff inside.
I simply emptied everything into a small suitcase, shutting the safe again. I replaced the carpet and made sure it was smooth. I then returned to the ground floor.
“Just some more clothes,” I said, and he smiled.
He gave us a lift back to the hotel, and left us alone.
Jenny and I returned to our room, so I opened the case.
There was over £500,000 in £50 notes, and $1,000,000 in $100 bills. There were bonds and securities, and deeds to various properties all over the world. There was an apartment in New York, a house in Florida, a flat in Paris and a villa in Portugal. All in my name, Alexandra Lake.
“Shit, Sandi.”
“Shit yourself, Jen.”
“You’re bloody loaded.”
“Not a lot I can do with it at the moment, though, is there?”
“I suppose. What can you do, bank it?”
“Oh yeah, excuse me, can I deposit half a million quid in your bank, oh and by the way, I’m a school boy-girl undergoing gender reorientation surgery.”
Jenny laughed.
“S’not funny Jen. I’m stuffed.”
We sat and looked at the pile on the bed.
I examined the bonds.
“What are these worth?” I asked.
She shrugged, which made me smile, at least I didn’t have the monopoly on shrugging.
“Do they have safe deposit boxes in banks?” I asked.
“I suppose so.”
“Then I’ll put it all in a bank.”
“Don’t you have to be seventeen to do that?”
“I’m seventeen tomorrow,” I reminded her.
“What, you’ll take all that to school with you?”
“Why not? First two periods are study periods, I’ll just pop to the bank.”
“How do you know which one has boxes?”
“Oh.”
“I’ll ask Dad, he’ll know,” she said, and ran out of the room.
Next morning, at nine thirty, with my suitcase, I attended the Nat West Bank, and asked if I could rent a safe deposit box. I had to show my passport and my drivers licence, and I also showed them my insurance details. They were all in the name of A. Hemmings.
I placed everything, minus £1000, into the box, and left the bank a lot happier. I returned to school, so was able to concentrate on my lessons for the rest of the day.
It had been a rough few days, so I was tired when we caught the bus back to the hotel. I was a little upset, as I had hoped to see Dave, but he seemed to be avoiding me. I hoped he wasn’t fed up with me already, and I sensed a mood swing beginning to bite. I was a little tearful, so Jenny tried to cheer me up. But I was feeling quite low.
We arrived at the hotel, but I just wanted to go and lie down for a while. I went to the room and lay on my bed. I couldn’t wait for my operation, as I was fed up with being neither one thing nor the other.
I must have dozed off, for Jenny was shaking me.
“Hey, sleepyhead. Dave is here.”
“Tell him to go away, I feel miserable,” I said.
“Tell him yourself, you crabby cow,” she said, leaving me alone.
I felt immediately sorry and guilty, so I got up and ran after her.
“Jen, I’m sorry, the doctor said the hormones would give me mood swings.”
“That is no excuse to be a stroppy tart,” she said, still cross with me.
“I know. I’m sorry. You’re such a good mate, I don’t deserve you.”
She relented and we had a hug.
“Come on, Dave wants to see you.”
“I look a mess,” I said.
She smiled.
“You are no way a boy,.” she said, so I laughed and re-did my make up.
I went downstairs, but no one was there. Frowning, I went into the bar. It was deserted, so I went into the dining room.
It seemed empty, but as I walked out again, the door was closed, and a huge shout rang out.
“SURPRISE. Happy Birthday Sandi.”
I spun round to see about twenty of my class-mates and friends. I just sat down and burst into tears.
Dave came over and helped me up.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I nodded and clung onto him. I then pulled myself together, and set about enjoying the first birthday party I had had since my mother died.
Jenny’s dad came over to me. He handed me an envelope. I recognised my father’s handwriting.
“It came for you this morning, but you had already left for school. Incidentally, you father gave me £1000 to go towards your keep. I don’t need it.”
“Keep it, he would be insulted if you refused it.” I said, and opened my envelope.
There was a soppy card, to MY DAUGHTER, and he had scribbled ‘Dad’ in it. But there was a letter inside.
|
Sandi I’m not a great writer, but here goes. I told you I was sorry about everything, well, I really am. The men who came to the house work for a man in London Called Frankie Holland. Frankie was after a deal, that I managed to get, and thereby he lost a lot of dosh. I mean a lot, over £5,000,000. Frankie is not a man to cross, and those that do have a habit of snuffing it in lots of nasty ways. The bloke Bruce was his main man, so he will take it very personal now. They will try to get to me through you, so you may have to fuck off quick. Just be ready to go at a moment’s notice, have a bag ready, and just run, don’t look back. These people do not hesitate, and they can’t be bargained with. I know, as I’ve tried and failed. Sounds like the Terminator, don’t it? Anyway, I’m trying to fix things with Frankie, just so they will leave you alone. I’m not that hopeful, though. They still think you’re a boy, so don’t change back now, whatever you do. (my poor attempt at a joke.) Hopefully, you will be a bit shrewd and get the stuff out of the house and into a safe deposit box. My guess is they will take the house out next. Good luck with the operation(s). If I get a chance, I’ll come and see you, but it may not be possible. If Frankie can be bought off, I might be lucky, but the chances are slim. Cross Frankie, and he crosses you out permanently. There is one bloke I trust, and ironically he’s a copper in London. His name is James Randall, and last I heard he was a Detective Inspector in Stoke Newington, but he may be somewhere else by now. I did a bit of work for him, information and the like, so he came to trust me. I’ve left a folder at Heathrow Airport left luggage in Terminal One. The key is on the page, go there, and take the folder to Jim Randall. Tell him it is from me. He will know what to do. There is enough dirt to bury Frankie Holland for a very long time. If you’ve cleared out my safe you will know that you’re a very wealthy girl, so be wise and live long. I love you, too little and too late, but know that I do. Your Dad PS. All the stuff you inherit is clean. I promise. |
I put the key into my purse, and folded the letter up. I wiped a tear away from my eye, and Dave came over to me.
“Hey what’s up?”
“My Dad, he’s deep in the shit,” I said.
“What kind of shit?”
“Smelly shit. He is a bit of a villain, and it seems that he’s crossed the wrong man. You remember the man in the car, the other day?”
“Yes, what about him?”
“He works for a guy my old man crossed, he was looking for Dad, and they didn’t realise that he is my Dad. They thought I was just a girl who works at the hotel, and goes in to make the beds and stuff.”
“Oh.”
I smiled, as he really was stuck for words.
“It’s okay, I haven’t inherited his dishonest streak.”
He smiled. “You look great.”
“I feel like shit,” I admitted.
“Why?”
“I’m pumped full of female hormones, so I imagine I’m feeling the same as some women feel every month. I feel depressed, tired and just grotty. My Dad is running for his life, and I may attract some of the shit meant for him. I’m not a healthy person to be around at the moment.”
“Oh,” he said, and I laughed again.
He handed me a small box, wrapped in gaudy paper.
“Happy birthday.”
I opened it, and there was a small ring, with a single white diamond winking at me.
I hugged him and gave him a kiss.
“Thanks Dave, it’s lovely.”
I slipped it on my right ring finger, and it sparkled at me.
“I’d like to get you one for your left ring finger, but that’ll have to wait,” he said, smiling. I felt the emotion well up, so the tears came again.
“See. Look what you made me do,” I said, so he hugged me until I stopped crying.
I really enjoyed the party, and was almost overwhelmed with people’s love and generosity. If it wasn’t for a small piece of useless flesh in my knickers, I would have been really content.
I sank into my bed a little after midnight, a much changed person. The fact that people cared, even my father, had a profound effect on me. The fear and trepidation I felt against this Frankie Holland, changed to a degree of anger and outrage. How dare he try to ruin my life like this? Who the hell was he to dictate who lived and died?
I had enough crap in my life without him and all he had to offer. I decided that I was not going to run any more. I was going on the offensive.
Chapter 4
School became a different place for me now. I was no longer the anonymous androgynous lump in the background. I had friends, and I was clearly female, outwardly at any rate. I had a boyfriend who was one of the hunkiest guys in the school, and I knew that I looked good.
My schoolwork improved, and my whole outlook changed. I was no longer a taker, but gave of myself to others, and found a whole new chapter of my life began to open up.
The summer was warm, and sunny, and as June was nearly over, my skirts became shorter and my tops were skimpier. I grew slightly, as I was about 5’8” in my bare feet now. My bust was still growing, so I had to change to a C cup. I asked the Head if I could play tennis, as I had not been playing any sports for a while.
Jenny and I played quite a bit of tennis, both at school and on the court at the hotel, as long as the guests didn’t want to. We worked in the hotel whenever we could, and I actually enjoyed the life I was now leading. I was fitter and healthier, and a hell of a lot happier. Every now and then, I took some money out of my safe deposit box and put it in a high interest account in the building society. I couldn’t bear the thought of money sitting about not doing anything.
The most startling change was that I had friends now. Not strange men in sleazy chat rooms on-line, but real, living breathing friends, who seemed to find my company fun and, with whom I enjoyed doing normal things. In fact, I had not been on-line for weeks. There was Jenny, my best friend, who was as close to me as a sister. Caroline, who seemed to want to follow me about. She was a hoot, and I actually enjoyed her company. The other girls in my form, Jane, Alicia and Rachel, all came to my party, and gradually moved into my sort of inner circle.
Then there were the boys. For some strange reason boys wanted to be my friends now, so I flirted outrageously with most of them. Dear Dave, who knew my inner secrets, was always there, never pushy, but always there, helping and supporting. I realised that I was more than just a little fond of him, yet he never made any demands of me. It was that very reason that I was very reluctant to form a close liaison with anyone else, and one day I told him.
He just smiled.
“You never know, one day I may just claim my just reward,” he said, and left it at that.
We kissed frequently, and he never took anything further. He knew that while I was where I was, that I did not wish to go any further. I wanted to be a girl for him, but I was not yet at the place I wanted to be.
But it was enough, as far as the world was concerned, we were an item, and he told me that I would have to meet his family soon. This terrified me.
But events overtook us, A Levels came and went, and before we could blink, he was a leaver.
It then dawned on me that he was not going to be there next year, and it terrified me. He was my rock, but he was leaving.
I was working hard, doing Art, French and Design for A level, and I found the design the most rewarding. I seemed to have a knack for designing clothes, and chose to specialise in this field for my special assignments. There was a charity clothes show held in the school towards the end of term, and I managed to design several outfits for the show. I now had to find someone to model them.
I asked Jenny.
“Get away. Don’t be silly. My bum is way too big,” she said.
It wasn’t, but no amount of talking persuaded her otherwise. I went around all my friends, and there was a conspiracy against me. They all told me to do it myself.
“Sandi, you’re daft. You’re the one with the model’s figure, so just bite the bullet, girl, do it yourself,” said Caroline.
In the end, I knew that I would have to do just that.
I took my AS levels, and found them relatively easy. Then I knuckled down and created my works of designer art. I made a stunning long evening dress in black satin, that was really risqué, but at the same time formal enough for a really fancy do. I had a mini dress that doubled as a sort of smock to be worn with a pair of my trousers; and finally, a swimming costume that just hid the essentials. The criss-cross design would make interesting sunburn marks on the tummy.
My piéce de resistance was a semi formal strapless cocktail dress that hugged the figure and was guaranteed to drive men wild. It was in black silk, and left only just enough to the imagination.
Aside from this, life seemed to grind on.
My father was conspicuous by his absence. I had not heard from him since my birthday in May. I almost forgot about the looming threat of Frankie Holland, except every time I saw the key in my purse I remembered.
So, one Saturday morning, I left an ambiguous note for Jenny and slipped out of the Hotel early. I rode to the station in Brighton, and caught the train to London. I spent a lot of time on the trains or tubes, to Heathrow to collect the folder, and then to Stoke Newington, to be told that Detective Inspector Randall was a Detective Chief Inspector now, and was at Enfield Police Station. They rang his office for me, to be told he was off on a rest day.
Feeling frustrated and not a little pissed off, I asked the officer to call him at home and to ask him if he wanted to talk to Johnny Lake’s daughter.
To his surprise and mine, the man decided to come all the way in to meet me. I was still sitting in the front office when a tall man in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt came in.
“I’m Jim Randall. You say you are Johnny Lake’s daughter?”
I stood up, looking up at him.
“Do you have a warrant card or something?” I asked.
He patted his trouser pockets, eventually producing a black leather wallet. He opened it and showed me it. There was a silver crest and a card with his photograph. James Randall, Detective Chief Inspector, it said.
“Can we go somewhere quiet?” I asked.
He smiled and nodded, leading me out of the station to a Ford Mondeo parked across the road.
He unlocked it and opened the passenger door. I got in.
He got behind the wheel.
He started the car and started to drive away from Stoke Newington.
“Stoke really is a bit of a shitty area, how far have you come?”
“South coast, near Brighton.”
“So, how’s Johnny?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen Dad for ages, he could be dead for all I know,” I said, staring straight ahead.
“Why?”
“He crossed Frankie Holland, who ever he is.”
He frowned. He pulled into a pub car park, and looked at his watch.
“Have you had lunch?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ve been hunting for you.”
“Come on, I’ll buy you a pub lunch.”
We went into the pub, and he bought me a drink and a ploughman’s.
I showed him the letter I had been sent.
He read it and laughed.
“He hasn’t lost his sense of humour. So, what have you got for me?” he asked, returning my letter.
I passed him over the folder. I then told him everything that had happened, even the bit with the truck.
He listened and frowned, then, when I had finished he opened the folder, starting to leaf through the contents.
“Fucking hell!” he said, suddenly. Then he looked at me.
“Sorry. Have you looked in this?”
I shook my head. “One thing I learned from my old man - never ask questions and no lies will be told. No, it’s nothing to do with me, as it’s probably dirty so I want no part of it.”
He smiled. “You’re very like your mother, did you know that?”
“You knew my Mum?”
“Yes, I met her several times. Fuck knows what she saw in your dad, but she was a nice girl. He was always a charmer, your Dad, even though he was a villain.”
“Was? He’s not dead yet,” I said.
“Is, was, whatever. You just look a heck of a lot like your mum, that’s all.”
I looked down. I never knew what to think about my mother.
“She didn’t deserve what happened, you know?” he said.
“What did happen? I always suspected Dad had something to do with it.”
He smiled. “So did I, but he didn’t. I know that for a fact.”
I stared at him.
“Your dad was working for me at the time. He was an informant on a nasty armed team who were doing some jewellers in North London. They had already killed one old boy, and left another for dead. Your dad had standards, never into violence, thievery, yes. But never he hurt anyone, unless they threatened anyone he loved,” he said, and looked meaningfully at me.
“When news of the accident came though, he was on the verge of solving the case for us. He just carried on, and cracked up after the arrests were made.
“It was an accident, no suspicious circumstances at all. Just a bad gas valve on a hired yacht.”
“He never showed me he cracked up,” I said.
“He wouldn’t, he was old school, was Johnny, never showed his emotions. Besides, he never stopped loving your mum. He told me, he said, “If only I stopped, she would still be with me.” But it was too late then.”
“If. Bloody if. I have heard it from him so much. If he had been honest, I wouldn’t be sitting here now,” I said.
“True enough.”
I finished my lunch, and he continued to look through the folder.
“Sandi, is it?”
“Yes, it’s short for Alexandra.”
He smiled.
“This is very valuable. Would you like to see if I can get something from the reward programme for you?”
I shook my head.
“No, if there is any money coming, put it in the widows and orphans fund. Dad would think that was suitably ironic.”
He smiled. “You are a cut off the old block. I can see why he is so proud of you.”
“Don’t ever link him with me, he may be my father, but I am my own person, and I seek a different destiny than he did,” I said, quite heatedly. He smiled and apologised.
“I’m sorry, I can see that. But we can never take away our parents, no matter who or what they were. Look, can I give you a lift?”
“To a station, I need to get back down south.”
“You’re a brave girl, thanks for doing this.”
“I had a choice?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I suppose not.”
I stood up, and he put the folder under his arm.
“Look, what’s going to happen now? It’s just that I’m still afraid that Frankie’s men will try to get me again,” I asked.
He looked at me for a while, as if trying to assess the danger I was in, and then he took out his mobile phone. I sat down again. He asked me some questions, and then punched a number into his phone.
He spoke briefly into it, and then rang off. A few moments later, it rang, so he answered it. He spoke in hushed tones for several minutes, looking at me every now and again.
Finally, he finished the call.
“That was the DAC, he has approved close protection for you.”
“DAC?”
“Deputy Assistant Commissioner. You have to realise the level that Frankie Holland plays at. We are talking big time villainy here.”
“How big time?”
“We are talking highest level corruption, and beyond.”
“Oh. What is close protection, I won’t have to be kept in an hotel room for six months, or anything, will I?””
“Don’t worry, you just live your life, and we keep an eye on you, we will keep you well clear.”
“I’m not worried about you, it’s my stupid old man. He’ll try something idiotic and probably fuck up as a result,” I said, and he laughed again.
“Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”
We walked out to his car, I looked about me; it was hard to keep a handle on reality sometimes. It was as if I was living in someone else’s twisted dream, and one never knew what was just around the corner.
I shook my head, as if to clear my brain, like some form of mental etch-a-sketch, and got into the car.
“So, what do you do?” he asked.
“I’m still at school. I take my A levels next year.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Survive,” I said, quite honestly, but he laughed as if I cracked a joke.
“Well, you must have some idea?”
“I don’t know, as there’s a lot going on in my life at present. I suppose I’d like to do something with clothes design.”
He nodded. “I have no doubt that you’ll succeed in whatever you attempt. You have that air of determination about you. You have the looks and figure to make a cracking model.”
I smiled.
“Yeah,” I said, cynically.
He dropped me at the station.
“Sandi, your protection officers will make themselves known to you in the next couple of days. Give me a contact number they can reach you on.”
I told him my mobile number.
“Okay. For the most part, you won’t see them, just let them know what you are up to, and they will watch your back.”
“Don’t they sleep?”
“Yes. At least not at the same time.”
“Two bodyguards. I don’t think I am that important.”
“Never under estimate what you have just given me. There are four in a team. Besides it won’t be for too long, there is enough here for us to act, and soon. You may see something about it in the news in the not too distant future.”
“Oh, well, I’d better go.”
“Take care, and if you see your father again, tell him hi from me.”
I smiled and shook his hand, and then I turned and went to catch my train.
When I got back, I found that my absence was being treated with some degree of mild panic. Jenny had called Dave, and they were scouring the local area for me. As I walked in, having ridden back from the station, they greeted me in a manner not dissimilar to the return of the prodigal son. All they were missing was the fatted calf.
I explained to an almost hysterical Jenny that I was taking care of my father’s business. She then looked at me in a funny way, and asked me whether I had bumped anyone off.
I was helping restock the bar, the next morning, when my mobile rang.
“Hello?”
“Is that Sandi?” a male voice asked.
“Who’s this?”
“My name is Scott Collins, I’m a police officer. I’m the sergeant responsible for looking after you for the next couple of weeks. Jim Randall asked me to contact you, as I need to meet you and discuss how we are going to do this.”
“Do you know the Fairley Hotel, just outside Brighton?”
“Nope, but if you give me directions, then I’ll find it.”
I gave him directions, and he said he would pop in at lunchtime.
I then explained to Jenny’s Dad that the matter was in the hands of the police, and he seemed much relieved. I sat down with him and Liz and was completely honest with them, or as far as I could be. I explained that I had to use the name Sandi Hemmings, and that I was now under the protection of the Metropolitan Police firearms team.
I could see from their expressions that they were uneasy with the situation, so I asked them if they wanted me to leave.
Liz smiled.
“No dear. You’ve managed this far, lets stick it out, hopefully, it won’t be for too much longer.” she said.
“If the police need somewhere to stay, we have the old staff block. They are basic, and we will renovate them soon, but they should do for a while,” John suggested.
I was overwhelmed with their support, and hugged them both.
I was in the Dining room laying up the tables when John came in.
“Sandi, there is a man looking for you,” he said.
I must have looked worried, as he smiled.
“He says he’s a policeman,” he added.
I walked through with him to the bar, and there was a tall man, in his late twenties, dressed in casual jeans and a polo shirt.
“Hi, Sandi?” he asked.
“Yeah, Scott?”
“Yup. Scott Collins. How are you?”
“Better now you are here,” I admitted, and he smiled.
John told us to use the office, so we went in, he shut the door.
“Okay, my team is going to be looking after you for a few days. So, I need to know your movements, so we can plan our day.”
“Will you need accommodation?” I asked.
“Why?”
I explained John’s offer, and Scott smiled.
“That solves one problem, that would be great.”
I then explained my daily routine to him. He took copious notes, asking me about who my friends were, and their vehicle details. I explained that I was using the name Sandi Hemmings, just to give myself extra protection. He nodded, and didn’t ask how I managed to acquire the documentation.
“Out task is simple, to watch your back and not to show out. I will introduce the team to you, just so you know us. It’s important that you never ever show that you know us or have ever seen us before.”
“How long are you on this?” I asked.
“Until we get told to leave you alone. The Serious Crime Squad is taking this over, so it must be pretty heavy.”
“Oh.”
He went over what I had told him, and seemed satisfied that he had everything he needed.
“I’m going into hospital in a couple of weeks, I may be there for a few days,” I said.
“Oh yes, what is that for?”
I blushed.
“Women’s problems,” I said, and left it at that. Fortunately, he was as embarrassed as I, and left it there.
He disappeared, but over the next day or so I got to know the other three officers who were to be my guardian angels.
Life went on, and so I almost forgot about them. There was always a car parked near the school, and although I never saw the officers, I knew they were watching.
I really got into my clothes design course, and my teacher helped me finish them off. I had made them to fit me, and now I was committed to model them myself.
I was just putting the finishing touches to the last garment, when Dave walked in to the workshop.
“Hi, I don’t normally see you in here?” I said.
He had a strange expression on his face, so my heart sank.
“Sandi?”
I sat down, and he saw the anguish in my eyes.
“I’m leaving. It’s my last day today.”
I knew that, so what? I thought.
“And?” I asked, waiting for the, ‘I’ve found someone else.’ bit
“I want you to be my partner at the Leaver’s Ball on Saturday.”
“The fashion show is on Saturday,” I said, feeling relieved but frustrated at the same time.
“The show finishes at six, and the Ball starts at seven thirty.”
“How the hell will I get changed in time?” I asked, and he just laughed at me.
“If you are wearing that, you can stay as you are,” he said pointing to the long satin dress. “Will you come with me?”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, and stood up. “You know I will. But are you sure you don’t want a…”
He put his hand across my mouth.
“I told you. Never, ever mention that again,” he said, and I looked down, ashamed of what I was.
He lifted my chin with his hand, and stared into my eyes, tears of frustration and shame were welling up.
“Sandi, I told you once that you are the girl that I love. I meant it then, and I mean it now. Okay?”
The tears fell, this time from pure joy. I didn’t deserve him.
“So, I’ll see you Saturday?”
I nodded.
“If I get a chance, I’ll pop by the fashion show, as I want to see you strutting your stuff.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
He smiled and kissed me. I so wanted him to do more to me, but we both knew that, for the moment, that wasn’t an option.
I held his hand.
“Dave?”
“What?”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, grinning.
“I love you too,” I said. It was the first time I had uttered those words, and I realised that I meant them.
“Yeah, I know,” he repeated.
I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. He held me close, and I could feel his body hard against me. I felt him becoming aroused, and I wanted him so bad, I ached.
“Not long now,” I said.
“I can wait,” he said, smiling.
“I fucking can’t” I said, and he laughed.
“You’ll have to, that’s all.”
“I know, but I want you,” I said.
“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you, but it doesn’t change things.”
“I can’t have your children,” I wailed.
“No problem, we can adopt.” he said, so calmly, that I hugged him again.
At that moment the teacher returned, and looked at us.
We grinned sheepishly and he left me alone again.
“You’ll miss him,” she said.
“Tell me about it,” I said, and went back to my hemming.
Comments
Wow...
This story is GREAT! Exciting and realistic and the same time - keep this goodness a-comin'!
~ Compulsive online gamer, supernerd, and geek at your service ~
Love it.
Very immersive, very intriguing, very dangerous. Can't wait for the next installment.
-Christelle
Superb
An excellent story. Nuff said.
Twisted Dreams
You know you do this to me all the time? I see a Tanya Allen story and some times the description just doesn't appeal to me. I wait for a while and see a few glowing comments. Okay I say to myself, IT is Tanya Allen after all. No matter the details it going to be decent. I start reading and BLAM I'm hooked and blown away by the tale. You would think I'd learned by now, right? LOL!!!
Sandi is another of your great characters and just so much fun to read about. Her Dad and his problems just showcase how level headed she is. Once again I have another story I'm scanning for each time I log on! Just great work!
hugs!
grover
Wonderful
Just another wonderful story to get lost in. :) Portia
Portia
Another Gem!
What a wonderful story! Though, I am not surprised as your tales always keep me reading well into the night.
Thank you for keeping us entertained. By the way, I have purchased all of the books you have had published for sale, and have re-read them several times.
Keep up the great work.
Twisted Dreams
Tanya; I agree with all the above School Teacher! Richard :)
Richard
Twisting Dreams
Wonderful reading as always. Keep it up.
Wonderful
What a great story I can't wait to read the next chapters.
I'm glad I found this.
story. I've read most of your stories, Tanya. I don't know how I missed this one before. I'm loving it so far and will continue through. I'm so glad that things stay around, treasures to find later.
Much Love,
Valerie R
Much Love,
Valerie R