Don is a bit of a geek. But his intelligence was matched by his kind heart, and his flat mate and friend Steve appreciates his help in his university course work.

Don is a little confused as to why Steve and two other friends want him to join them of a motor cycle tour of France in the summer holidays, but he is pleased to be asked, and goes along. On their first stop, a cool group is playing at a night club, but it is a couples only evening, and Don is persuaded to become Donna for one evening, just so the four friends can see the show.

But no one expected to find Donna still there on the following morning.

In fact, Don never returned. And Donna was anything but a Geek!

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Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

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The Legal Stuff: It's What I Want  © 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. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
 
Chapter 4
 
 
The Alps were simply spectacular. It was lovely setting off from Monaco on the bikes, and it was if the last two months had never existed. The open road was so liberating. We left all the pressures behind us, as we climbed slowly up into the foothills. We stopped off briefly at Grasse, where Jenny and I bought some perfume.

We smelled of roses and lavender for the rest of the trip.

When we set off, it was warm, so the leathers went into the rucksacks and out came the miniskirts again. However, as we got higher, the leathers came back out. It was so nice just stopping wherever we wanted and just taking in those breathtaking views.

We found a campsite by the most divine lake, and ended up staying a few days. Mark and Steve went off on that manly pursuit; attempting to persuade perfectly harmless fish to leave the water by eating a maggot with a hook stuck through its belly.

Jenny went off to the nearby minimarket, while I agreed to do the washing.
 
 
I was in the communal washroom, waiting for the machine to finish, when a young lad came in. He was about fifteen or so, dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. He reminded me of the old me, he had longish hair and was slightly built, and had the same head-down type of attitude with which I could identify.

I was sitting on the windowsill reading a book, so he didn’t see me at first. He put down the bag of washing, and took out a bra, obviously his Mum’s or a sister’s. He took off his tee shirt and put the on feminine garment. I was grinning, but dared not move.

“Hé, il ne va pas vraiment avec ces short, chéri!” I said, and he jumped several inches, and went bright red.

“Oh shit, fuck! Oh my God!” he said, going bright red and ripping off the offending garment. He was English. The poor lad was so embarrassed, so I felt awful. I jumped off the windowsill.

“Hey, don’t panic. I won’t tell, and I don’t bite either.”

“You’re English?”

“Yeah. What’s your name?”

“Sam.”

“Hi Sam, I’m Donna. Do you want to see something funny?”

“What?”

I took out my passport, and showed him my photograph, and the name, Donald James Armitage.

“That’s supposed to be me.” I said.

He stared at my mini skirt and my bikini top, which hardly hid anything.

“You aren’t a boy.”

“I know that, but they didn’t. It’s amazing how stupid people can be. How long have you been wearing girl’s clothes?”

“I don’t do it very often.”

“How long?”

“Since I was about ten.”

“Why?”

He shrugged.

“Is it because you get a kick out of it, or because you want to be a girl?”

“I think I want to be a girl. But I get confused, because I feel guilty.”

“Hey, I know what that’s like, but I’m a rare case, I actually was a girl who looked like a boy. I had all the bits and everything. But I lived for nineteen years as a boy, and it was tough.”

“No?”

“Yes. Absolutely true. Even my mum thought I was a boy. I only changed over the last few weeks.

“You look great,” he said, shyly.

“Thanks. Have you ever gone all the way?”

“What, with make up and stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I haven’t the bottle.”

“So what are you doing today?”

“My parents are going up some mountain, but I refused to go, so I have to do the washing.”

“Only child, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too. So is my boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Would you like to?”

“What?”

“Go all the way, make up and stuff.”

“I don’t know, I shouldn’t.”

“What time are your parents due back?”

“I don’t know, supper time, I guess.”

“Then we have plenty of time. Would you like to?”

He looked at his feet, but nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“Will you trust me?”

He looked up, met my eyes and nodded again.

“Okay, put the washing in to get washed, we won’t use Mum’s stuff, as it’s far too old for you,” I said. He loaded the machine, put the powder in and then the coins.

My dryer finished and I emptied it into the bag I had.

“Come on, we can come back in about half an hour.”

He followed me to our tent, so I sent him to the showers to shave his legs and anywhere else that he could reach.

He came back wrapped in a towel.

I had prepared certain clothes and accessories.

I brought out my old silicone breast forms, and placed them onto his chest. I then touched up the edges with some foundation, and you could hardly see the join.

I gave him a pair of the knickers I first wore, with the extra strong elastic front that held everything flat.

“Okay, Samantha, stick this on, and tuck your bits between your legs. Your balls should slide up into the cavity above.”

He did, and showed me a very feminine result. I handed him a bra, and helped adjust it.

Then I gave him a low cut top, and a pair of tights. He had fun putting them on, so I had to help. He put on the denim skirt and zipped it up. I pulled it so the zip was at the back.

“Sit down here Samantha, I will just do your face.”

He sat on the chair, and I applied make up for the first time. I didn’t go crazy, some foundation over the spots, a little eye shadow, mascara, lip gloss, and made the ‘girl’s’ cheeks a little flushed. I then shaped and painted ‘her’ fingernails.

“What size feet have you got?”

“Sevens.”

I gave ‘her’ a pair of my strappy sandals with high heels.

I then brushed out ‘her’ hair, and clipped on a pair of daisy clip-on earrings that I had bought on that first stop.

Samantha actually looked very convincing, but ‘her’ whole attitude was still that of the depressed teenager. Despite being very pretty, with the most gorgeous eyes, but ‘she’ needed to be convinced.

I took ‘her’ hand.

“Come on, let’s go see if the washing is finished.” I said, and we left the tent.

The campsite was deserted, but as we passed the shop, which was shut, Samantha saw her reflection for the first time.

She stopped and stared, a smile slowly materialised, until it became a delightful grin. Her shoulders lifted, her head went up, and her whole bearing altered completely.

“That isn’t me.”

“Yes, it is. Say hi to Samantha,” I said.

“But she’s a girl, a pretty girl.”

“Welcome to the other reality, Samantha.”

She turned to me, and I saw tears forming.

“Hey, don’t cry, your make up will run,” I said, and she laughed.
 
 
We walked slowly to the laundry, and waited for the washing to finish. We took it out and Samantha put it in the dryer.

“Come on, let’s grab a coffee or something,” I said.

She followed me to the little café down the street, and we sat at one of the street tables.

“Hallo ladies. What I can get you?” said the waiter, in broken English.

I looked at my companion.

“Samantha, what would you like?”

“A coke would be nice,” she said, very shyly.

“Un Coca cola, et un cafe au lait, s’il vous plait,” I said.

“Oui, Mam’selles.”

“He thinks I’m a girl,” she whispered, with an enormous grin.

“Of course, that’s because you are.”

I was rewarded with the most beautiful smile.

We sat in the sun, and drank our drinks. Jenny came past and waved. She pulled up a chair and I ordered another coffee for her.

“That was a funny little shop, very friendly, but bugger all produce,” she said.

“Jenny, this is Samantha, she is on the site too, she was doing her washing, and so she joined me for a drink.”

“Hi Samantha. Where are you from?” Jenny said, glancing at her briefly.

“Guildford,” she replied.

“Oh. I don’t know Guildford. Oh, Donna, you must see what I found for Mark,” she said, and rooted about in her bag and came out with an egg cosy.

“I thought he could use it as a willy warmer,” she said, and dissolved into hysterical laughter. Samantha laughed too, and relaxed.
 
 
We finished our drinks, and walked up to the site again. Jenny noticed that Samantha was wearing my clothes, and twigged what I was doing, and almost got the giggles.

I went with Samantha to the laundry, and the dryer was finished. She took out the washing, and took it to their very plush tent.

She came back out, and had a real sparkle in her eyes.

“Do you like being Samantha?” I asked.

“Oh yes, it’s brilliant. I can’t thank you enough. I think I’m a different person.”

“Tell me?”

“It’s so hard to explain. I just feel sort of free. It’s as if I’ve finally been allowed to be who I really am. It probably sounds silly, but I feel I’ve come home,” she said.

“I know exactly. A few months ago, I was in a similar predicament.”

“You?”

“Yes, me. As I told you, I thought I was a boy,” I said, and then told her my story.

“Gosh,” she said, eyes sparkling with hope.

“Samantha, you have problems. You probably aren’t like me. This will never go away for you, and you need to be honest to yourself and those who love you. There’s no easy road, believe me. You need to see your own doctor and explain that you believe that you are a transsexual. You need to confide in your parents, and ask for their love and support.

“If they reject you, then you contact the help groups on the Internet. You’re too young to do anything legally, so you must wait, but with parental help and good medical advice, you can get through this. There are two options, to lose the desire to be Samantha, or become Samantha, and forget Sam. You may grow out of wanting to be Samantha, or you may not. But the latter is a long and very hard road. You will never be able to hide it forever, and if you are lucky enough to have a partner who understands, it places an intolerable burden on them. Society is not kind to people who are different, but there are thousands like you, so be brave, be strong, and above all, be honest, particularly to yourself.”

“I think I know all that. I’ve spent ages on the Internet reading about people like me.”

“Tell me, Samantha, do you get off on dressing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for example, do you get a hard on?”

She blushed, very prettily.

“Sometimes. I get a really warm excited feeling deep inside, but it stays where I put it, for most of the time. I thought I might be gay, but when I’m Sam I don’t like to look at boys.”

“What about now?” I asked as three young lads passed us, who leered and grinned at us both.

Her eyes lingered on one of them, and she blushed again. I laughed

“Okay, you don’t need to answer,” I said, and she gave me a shy smile.
 
 
We went for a walk around the lake, and I was amazed at the bubbly girl who walked alongside me. She was chatty and full of laughter, and ever so naturally feminine. I took her back to the tent, and Jenny and I helped her to become Sam again. She lost all the sparkle, and her shoulders drooped, it almost broke my heart.

A dejected Sam sat on the grass outside our tent, with tears never far away. We chatted and joked with him for a while, and then Steve and Mark returned.

“Hi guys,” I said, and Steve tried to put a wet slimy fish down my cleavage. I screamed and threw a log at him. He dropped the fish, and gave me a hug, but he smelled of fish.

Mark flopped down next to Jenny.

“How did you get on?” she asked.

“Five little fish.”

“What are they?” she asked.

“Fish,” said Steve, helpfully.

“I can see that, but what type of fish?”

“Fresh water ones,” said Mark, and even Sam laughed.

“Hey guys, this is Sam. We met doing the laundry. His parents are up some mountain,” I said, and introduced the guys to Sam.

“Hi Sam.” the guys said, and Steve frowned and looked at me with a questioning expression.

“Sam is very like I used to be,” I explained, and the guys nodded.

“Hey Sam, tough break,” said Mark, genuinely concerned for him.

“Yeah, but look at Donna. There’s the reason to stay as you are,” Steve said with a grin.

Sam laughed, and I tried to tickle Steve, but he ended up kissing me. He always cheated like that.

“So Sam, what do you want to do?” Jenny asked.

He shrugged. “I dunno. It’s all so new and strange.”

“When I first dressed as a girl, I felt so wonderful, that nothing else mattered,” I said.

“I felt like that this afternoon,” Sam admitted.

“Hey, kid. Don’t let it get you down. Take one day at a time, and make the best of what you have. You never know it may be a phase, and you may grow out of it,” said Mark, the expert.

I smiled, and Sam looked at me. We both knew that this was not something he would ever grow out of. Had he just got his kicks from it, maybe, but this went deeper. He became a whole person as Samantha, and he needed professional help, not a bunch of students guessing.

We watched as the boys collected some wood and made a fire. Then the fish were gutted and cooked over the fire. We all had a fish, eating the pale flesh in our fingers, and washing our hands in the lake. It was fun, and Sam began to smile again.
 
 
At about seven thirty, a pleasant couple came over to us. They had to be Sam’s parents. His mum was an attractive lady of about forty, and his Dad was a good-looking man a little older than his wife.

“Sam?”

“Hi Mum, Dad.”

We were all lying on the grass, and I was still in my bikini top and short skirt.

“Um, these are my friends. I met Donna doing the washing, so I spent the day with them. They caught some fish, so we’ve just had some,” he stammered.

“Great. I am so glad you have met some young people,” his father said.

I stood up.

“Hello, I’m Donna Armitage, this is Jenny Hills, Steve Granger, my boyfriend, and Mark, Jenny’s bit of stuff,” I said, and we shook hands.

“I’m Michael and this is Caroline, my wife,” he said.

I smiled, as she looked like a Caroline.

“I hope Sam hasn’t been a bore,” Caroline said.

I looked at her. With an attitude like that, how the hell was the poor kid ever going to get free.

“No, Sam and I have had a great time,” I said, “haven’t we Sam?”

“Yes,” he said, and blushed.

“Well, we’d better get cleaned up. Do you want to come out for supper with us, Sam, or have you had enough?” his father asked.

“Where are you going?”

“We thought we’d try that chic little restaurant in town.”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“We will be back at about ten or eleven.”

“Okay,” he said.

They left and we watched them drive out about twenty minutes later.

“Hey Sam?” said Steve.

“Yeah?”

“Any chance of us meeting Samantha?”

Sam looked at me. I smiled.

“If you like,” I said.

He smiled and nodded.
 

*          *          *
 
Half an hour later, the guys met Samantha, and Steve grinned at me.

“Déjá  vu, eh?”

“Yeah. Poor kid.”

“She’s a cracker.”

“Then tell her, she needs to know.”

Steve did, and she almost burst into tears, or laughter, or both.

The five of us went to the café and had beer and pizzas. There was a young waiter, who latched onto the fact that Samantha was unattached, and he flirted with her from the outset. I watched as she responded brilliantly, and gave as good as she got. She was an absolute natural, and the guys could not believe the difference in her.
 
 
All good things came to an end, and Samantha had to change back to Sam. We watched him slouch back to his tent when his parents returned. I had given him my mobile number and our address in Portsmouth, if he ever needed to chat, or to get away.

“Poor little sod,” said Steve, with some feeling.

“Life just doesn’t seem fair,” said Jenny.

“No one ever said it was fair. You have to fight to get what you want,” I said.

“Have you got what you want?” asked Jenny.

“Yes. Yes Jen, I bloody well have. Thanks to you guys,” I said, with a grin.

“So have I,” said Steve, and embraced me with those big arms of his.
 

*          *          *
 
We were up early the next morning, to another lovely day, and decided to move on. We were taking the tent down, when Sam appeared.

“You’re leaving,” he said, displaying keen powers of observation.

“Yes, time to move on,” I said, as I packed Steve’s rucksack.

He sat on the grass next to me.

“How are you, today?” I asked.

“I’m okay. I’m still buzzing from yesterday. I almost told my mum last night, but chickened out. I thought she’d blame you and come and make a scene.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you need to tell her in your own time.”

“I think she knows,” he said.

“Oh, how?”

“I think she knows I dress in her clothes.”

“Why, has she caught you?”

“No, but she made a comment about her clothes being moved. That’s why I only use dirty clothes in the wash basket.”

“Would you like me to be there, and help you tell her?”

“You’d do that for me?” he asked, very surprised.

“If it would help.”

He thought for a moment.

“No. Thanks, but I think this is something I need to do myself.”

“I’m at the end of the phone if you need help.”

“Thanks. How did your parents take it?”

“My Mum hugged me, and was great. My Dad thought only of how it would embarrass him, and I doubt I’ll ever see him again. He and my mum are splitting up.”

“Shit. That’s bad. Is that because of what you did?”

“No, it’s because he is an unfaithful bastard who has been shagging someone else for years. But it was the final straw.”

“Oh,” he said, and smiled.

I did up the rucksack and started on my own.

“You are so beautiful. I wish I was like you,” he said.

I stopped what I was doing and my heart went out to him.

“Remember Samantha from last night. She was just as beautiful, so hold onto that. Look Sam. I was very lucky, for by some strange quirk of fate, I’m now a girl. A few months ago I thought I was a boy, but I dressed for a laugh and so we could get into a couples only event. I ended up falling for Steve, and I didn’t even have girl’s bits. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

“I thought I was gay, but deep down I wanted to be a girl. Over the next few days, it just happened, and I can’t explain it. The chances of this happening to you are not great, so you need to get things straight in your head. Set your goal, and go for it, regardless of the difficulties. You have to know it is right for you. You have to be sure, as most teenagers go through a phase of gender confusion, and a good percentage come out fine. So don’t be too quick to think you are definitely one thing or another. Be open to your feelings and try to be the best person you can with what you have.

“When we left Portsmouth, if you had told me I would look like this, I would have laughed at you, as I never in a million years ever thought about being a girl. But now, only a few weeks later, I could never go back to being a boy.”
 
 
I finished packing, and Jenny came over to see how I was doing.

“Hi Sam,” she said.

“Hello Jenny.”

“Here, I want you to keep these,” she said, and handed him a box.

It was the breast forms. He looked at them in wonder.

“I don’t know if I should,” he said, but he was obviously keen.

“Look, Sam, you do with them what you will. If you never use them, then they will remind you of something that could have been. If you use them, then I hope you find some happiness,” Jenny said.

“Thanks,” he said, and when he looked up, he had tears in his eyes. I gave him a hug.

“Hey, ring me, any time, if you feel down and want a chat, just call. Okay?” I said.

“Thanks, I will.”

We loaded the stuff on the bikes and put on our jackets. I gave Sam a kiss, and put on my helmet. He waved as we took off, looking rather lost and forlorn.
 

*          *          *
 
We drove up through the mountains, and down into northeast France. The guys wanted to see some battlefields and museums, so Jenny and I wandered through the old towns. We crossed into Belgium, and went to Ipres, to see the Menine Gate, with the thousands of allied names thereon, of all those who fell with no identified graves.

It was very depressing, and a reminder of the stupidity of mankind. Jenny and I overdosed on chocolate as a personal protest against silly men.
 
 
We rode back into France, and spent a day at the Asterix Theme park on the A1 north of Paris. It was brilliant, as I had been an Asterix fan as a kid, and had all the books, many in French. It was early September now, so most of the English schools were back, which explained why the crowds were less.

We were having a beer and a rest between rides when my mobile rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Donna, it’s Sam.”

“Hey Sam, what’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m back at school, but I thought you might like to know that you have a song in the top twenty.”

“What?”

“I saw you on TV last night. You were on a video, singing a song that’s in the top twenty, number eighteen, I think. You never said you were a singer.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, honest. I heard the announcer say, - “and new in at number eighteen is this great little song by Donna A.” I looked up, as I knew someone called Donna, and there you were, it was a really professional video, you were on a motorbike and then in a nightclub. It was cool and you looked great.”

“Number eighteen?”

“I think so, yeah. It was really good song, I’ve got what I want, and I’m keeping it. I loved the lyrics, so I went out and bought it this afternoon. You have an album out as well, so I bought that too.”

“Bloody hell. I knew it was being released this month, but I never dreamed it would get into the charts.”

“Yeah, and I have your autograph.”

“How?”

“You wrote your name and phone number in my diary, so everyone at school is so jealous.”

“That’s really cool.”

“I know. The words mean so much to me, knowing you as I do,” he said.

“Aw, thanks Sam, that’s sweet.

“I mean it. You guys were so brilliant.”

“So, has Samantha been out since you got back?”

“A couple of times. I actually spoke to my mum, and we went to see my doctor. I’m seeing a specialist psychologist every week.”

“Is that good?”

“I think so. They’re very kind, and told me exactly what you did. I said I knew someone who knew about these things and would help me.”

“And?”

“They’re planning to put me on testosterone blockers, so I don’t develop any more, until they get a clear picture of the way to go.”

“Is that permanent?”

“No. It just sort of stops me getting more masculine, so if I have to go for SRS, it’s easier.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be Samantha, more than anything else.”

“How’s school?”

“GCSE year, so I have to try to keep focussed.”

“When will you know?”

“With parental consent, and a full psychological evaluation, they would do it at sixteen, but only if everyone agrees.”

“How old are you now?”

“I’ll be sixteen next March.”

“Okay. Get your exams out the way, and keep me informed. I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Thanks. You have already helped.”

“Not really, I probably did more harm than good.”

“No. I told the psychologist about what happened, and she said it was a good thing. I didn’t tell you that I was thinking about killing myself that day we met, so you saved my life.”

I was stunned into silence.

“I’m sorry, you should have told me.”

“Why? You gave me Samantha, so you gave me a reason to live.”

“How are your folks?”

“Mum has been great. Dad, well he took it personally at first, and then has come round. I told him that it wasn’t anything he’d done, and he spent ages talking with one of the gender disorder specialists. He’s been great since, and I realise that I’m lucky to have them.”

“I’m so pleased for you.”

“If you hadn’t told me to be honest with them, I don’t think I would ever have told them.”

“So, do you still dress in your Mum’s stuff?”

“No, she took me out two days ago, as Samantha, and we bought some clothes. I think she was surprised.”

“What about?”

“Samantha surprised her, she didn’t expect her to be so gregarious and happy. I think Samantha was prettier than she had imagined too.”

“Go for it girl,” I said, and smiled.

“Thanks, and good luck with the song, I hope you get to number one.”

“So do I.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Sam?” Jenny asked.

I nodded.

“And guess what?”

“What?”

“I’ve got into the top twenty with, I’ve got what I want, and I’m keeping it.”

“No?”

“Yeah, it’s number eighteen, on its first week.”

The others stared at me in disbelief. I rang my mother.

“Hi Mummy, it’s me.”

“Hello darling. I understand congratulations are in order. You have a pop song out.”

“That’s why I called. How did you know?”

“Well do you remember Mrs Dowling? She and I have coffee every Tuesday, and I told her all about your little problem, and that you had made a film and done some songs. Well, her son is sixteen; do you remember Roger? No? Well he saw you on the telly, and told his mum. She then called me, so I switched it on, and there you were. I must say, that short skirt doesn’t leave much to the imagination, does it?”

I laughed, but dreaded the release of the movie.

“Mum, that’s nothing, if you see the film, I take all my clothes off in that.”

“Oh, how very draughty,” she said.

“We will be back in the UK next week. Have you sold the house yet?”

“There are all kinds of legal problems. Your father is kicking up a real fuss. He has discovered that all his assets have gone, so is furious. My legal and financial chaps are super, and say he is, what was the word? Oh yes, stuffed.”

“So? Where is he?”

“He’s in the country somewhere. I took out an injunction on him and he turned up the other day. I simply handed him a copy and called the police. I haven’t seen him since, but I keep getting nasty letters from his solicitor.”

“So what happens now?”

“I’ve been told to sit tight and he will have to negotiate. He has nothing to bargain with now.”

“This is so sad.”

“Yes, but I am so proud of you. You did look so lovely on the telly, I cried.”

“Oh Mum, you didn’t?”

“You’ve such a lovely voice too. Everyone I have spoken to sends their regards, no one is very surprised that you turned out to be a girl. It’s so funny, but it never dawned on me.”

“Nor me mum, nor me.”

“Call me when you get back. And come home for a bit.”

“I will, bye.”

“Bye.”
 
 
I switched off the phone, and tried to get my head round what was happening in my life. I watched the roller coaster, and thought my life was rather like that. I almost wanted to stop and get off so I could have some time to think.

“Number eighteen, babe, that’s really wicked,” said Steve.

“Yeah,” I agreed and grinned.

I then called my bank and gave my pin number and password. I asked for my current account balance, and then nearly fainted. I asked the man to repeat it, but it hadn’t changed. I asked where it had come from, so he told me. I hung up in a daze.

“What’s the matter Donna?” asked Mark.

“I have over  £100,000 in my account,” I said.

They stared at me.

“What?”

“My filming fee, the record sales and advance royalties. More is arriving every hour.”

“Bloody hell!” said Steve and Mark, in unison.

“That’s the motto of this whole holiday,” said Jenny with a grin.

“I could almost buy my own house. And we could still share, and stuff the landlord,” I said, and they all laughed, but then they saw I was serious.

“Keep your cash, save it for a rainy day,” said Mark.

At that moment, a passing shower caused a small amount of rain to fall. It was over in minutes, but I looked at Mark, who shrugged.

---

 
To Be Continued...