---

 
 

He was still talking as if I was a friendly acquaintance and anyone looking at us would think that nothing was wrong. Fear made me dumb so I couldn’t speak, let alone do anything else.

‘Nigel feels that it would be best for you, Olivia and the baby for you to return home. He believes that you don’t really know your own mind and when you’ve had time to reflect, you’ll realise that it makes sense for you to return to the real world. This is the only time that you will have this advice. You have two days to think things over and come to your senses, after that, things might get a little–difficult. I’ll leave you now. Oh, and by the way, tell anyone about this conversation and things might start happening. Goodbye, Tom–oh, I like those children; Dawn’s aren’t they?’

He got up and left. At no time had he raised his voice or shown any outward signs of aggression, but I knew he meant every single word he had said and that was what started me shaking.

And now the story continues…

I was oblivious to passers by. It was as if I was in a world of my own. I was sure I looked a wreck and certainly felt like one.

I became vaguely aware of someone sitting beside me. I looked up, fearing, wondering if that awful man had returned–but no, it was a woman, about my age or perhaps a bit younger. She was looking at me.

‘Samantha?’

‘Yes; do I know you?’

‘No, but I know you; look we need to talk about that man who has just left you. I work with Katie in a roundabout way. Look, can we go somewhere to talk?’

Looking at her, I wondered what all this was about. She seemed all right, but after what had happened, I didn’t want to do anything stupid.

‘I need to call my friend.’

I pulled my ’phone out of my handbag and ’phoned Abby.

‘Abby, hi–are you coming soon?’

‘What’s wrong, love, you sound upset?’

‘S—something’s happened. Look, I have someone with me and I want you to come, if you can.’

‘Of course, honey, I’ll be with you in a jiffy. Are you safe?’

‘Yes, but come soon, please!’

‘Okay; hang in there, love.’

I put my ’phone in the bag and looked at the woman. She was staring out to sea and seemed to be wrapped up in her own thoughts, and then her ’phone chirped.

‘Hello? Are you sure, okay, I have her with me now…yes, I’ll explain but can you have a quick word with her? Alright.’

She smiled and handed me her ’phone.

‘It’s Katie.’

With a slightly shaking hand, I took it.

‘Hi, Katie, what’s happening?’

‘Hello, Sam, sorry about all the cloak and dagger stuff. Tammy’s working for me, well you really; look would you like to come to my office, then we can speak in peace and I can explain everything, okay?’

‘All right, I’m waiting for Abby––oh here she is. We’ll see you in a minute, bye.’

I gave Tammy her mobile back. She smiled and put it away as Abby came rushing up, looking first at me and then Tammy.

‘What’s wrong, Sam, you had me worried there.’ She looked at Tammy curiously.

‘It’s okay. This is Tammy and evidently she works for me though I don’t know why. Katie arranged everything.’

‘Sorry,’ said Tammy,’ the last thing we wanted was to scare you. Let’s go to Katie’s office and I’ll explain, we can’t talk here, it’s too public.’

It was only a few minutes walk to Katie’s office. We were ushered in and sat down with coffees and teas. I was on tenterhooks while all these niceties were going on. All I wanted to know was what the hell was going on!

Katie took the lead. ‘Right then; first off, Samantha, Tammy here is a colleague of the private investigator we put on Nigel.’

‘But––’

‘–Have patience and all will be revealed, Sam. The investigator–whose name is Robert Gregg by the way–has been continuing his investigations of Nigel and has discovered some interesting facts about him that are not generally known. First, apart from his many legitimate businesses, he has other interests that appear to be not so legit. One of them being the fact that he’s a money lender. Oh, he’s been clever, hiding his ownership through nominee directorships and other smokescreens, but Robert Gregg is something of a wiz with ferreting out that type of thing. That’s why I use him.’

‘So Nigel’s a money lender,’ said Abby, ‘but that’s not illegal, is it?’

‘No, not illegal, as such, but the methods he uses aren’t what one calls mainstream. First of all, his company preys on those who are most needy and can’t get credit in the usual way; secondly, he charges up to 1,000% interest and thirdly; if someone can’t keep up with repayments, he uses strong-arm tactics to intimidate his clients–broken arms and legs and threats of violence against family members–being common. I was very concerned about your safety, Samantha, being worried that he might get nasty if he didn’t get his way with you. Robert suggested sending a couple of people down to discreetly keep an eye on you. Tammy is one and Mike Amos is the other. Perhaps I should have told you, but until we were sure that these vicious tactics were going to be used on, let’s face it, a member–albeit a tenuous one–of his family, I didn’t want to worry you. I understand that things have been happening and you have met with what, for want of a term, one of his representatives.’

‘You could say that,’ I said dryly.

I told them what the conversation was about and Abby almost exploded at hearing about the implied threats on me and the children.

‘He can’t be allowed to get away with that!’ she cried, ‘he has to be stopped!’

‘Well,’ said Tammy speaking for the first time, ‘we are in luck there. Up until last week, Mike had been tailing Nigel who, I think, feels that he is above suspicion because he hasn’t really gone out of the way to hide any meetings with his henchmen. Mike recognised the man you were speaking to down at the quay. His name is Colin Statham and he has a record of violence, extortion and other crimes. Don’t be taken in by his suave manners, he’s a very nasty character and one to steer clear of, if at all possible. Mike always carries equipment that can eavesdrop on conversations at a distance and can also record such exchanges. When he saw Statham approach you, he switched on the equipment and called me.’

‘I never saw him!’ I exclaimed.

‘No, he was behind that upturned boat at the top of the beach; it was the only suitable place and more or less out of sight of others.’

‘So, did he manage to record the conversation?’ said Abby.

‘Yes, it’s all recorded in high quality MP3. After Statham left you, Mike followed him and will let me know later where he went.’

‘Good,’ said Katie, with satisfaction, ‘now we have a recording of the threats against you and your family, we have yet another lever to use against Nigel.’

‘So, d’you think I’m safe?’

‘Not yet, but very soon. We’ve got enough to make things very sticky for Nigel and, by inference, Olivia. Soon we will be in a position to present Nigel with the facts and then he will have to make a decision, continue on this ridiculous course of trying to coerce you into doing something you don’t want, or take the consequences.’

‘Which are?’ I asked.

‘We take it to the police and if they can’t or won’t do anything, we approach the press who would just love to run a story about all this.’

‘I don’t want the press involved. It would result in my being outed. All I want to do is get on with my life.’

Abby held my hand and squeezed it.

‘I’m sure it won’t come to that love. Just the threat of exposure should be enough. Nigel still wants his ”K”¹, though how he could possibly get through any form of vetting with all his shady business interests defies belief.’

The meeting sort of broke off there. We all agreed to meet again the next day at my cottage so that we could get an update on what was happening.

Katie gave me a hug before I left and said, ‘We’ll get the beastly weasel, don’t worry.’

‘Thanks for all you’re doing for me.’

‘My pleasure; anyone who messes with my friends, messes with me. And don’t worry about payment for the private investigator and his team. I called in a favour and anyway, I adore the excitement, it beats wills and probate any day!’

Abby and I went for a belated lunch at the Toad and Tart. We sat eating pasties and slurping wine overlooking the harbour.

‘Penny for them?’ Abby remarked, looking at me inquisitively.

I looked at her cute face, a sort of metaphorical rock in the midst of the storm of my life. Then I smiled.

‘What?’

‘I’ve just likened you unto a rock,’ I said, thinking I sounded biblical.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You are my rock. Everything is going pear shaped, but you are there for me. Nigel and Olivia are trying to get me. Why, I don’t know. Olivia is pretty; she evidently never had a problem getting blokes. Why did she pick me in the first place? I was, and am, transgendered, an under-achiever and someone who didn’t satisfy her needs in or out of bed. She could easily have got someone else to pretend to be the father of her child. Nigel’s not short of a few pennies so he could have paid to have someone. There are people out there who will do anything for money. I just don’t understand it.’

With a shaking hand, I picked up my wine and drank deeply.

‘Slow down, love; you know what drink does to you.’

‘I’m too numb to get drunk,’ I said as I refilled my glass and took another deep draught.

‘Eat some of your pasty then, it might soak up the alcohol.’

I looked at her fondly and did as I was told–like a good girl.

‘Look, Sam, you don’t need to beat yourself up over this. Why other people do things is a mystery sometimes. Nigel is a man who likes being in control. Olivia is her father’s daughter; she wants things her own way all the time. She’s like a spoiled child whose father indulges her every whim.’

‘So you think I was a whim then?’ I said taking another large swig.

‘To her, yes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure in her spoilt brat kind of way she loved you and she probably thought you were different from other men she had been involved with.’

‘You can shay that again!’

‘Look, Sam, I think you’ve had enough to drink. Let’s go home.’

‘Lemme finish thish itshy bitshy drop of wine firsht.’

Before she said no, I downed the last of my second glass and stood up. It was strange, I felt a bit giddy for some reason and promptly sat down again.

‘Ooopsh!’

‘Sam, let me help you.’

‘Okily dokily!’

Somehow I found myself out on the street again, leaning heavily on Abby’s arm. The fresh air seemed go to my head and the road was weaving about. I had to check to make sure I hadn’t taken the wrong route and wasn’t on a ship in the heaving sea. Talking of heaving, I deposited my pasty on the pavement and was fascinated at seeing bits of carrot…

‘Come on, love, let’s get you home.’

‘I feel a bit shquiffy.’

‘Yes, love. My fault, I forgot that you can’t take your drink.’

‘I can, itsh, just that it can’t take me.’ I frowned at that, not quite knowing if it came out right or not. As we made our way up the hill, I saw some people walking two dogs. ‘Coooee, Jocassshta!’

Jo and the girls approached with the dogs, who were making a fuss and jumping up and down, nearly knocking me over.

‘Heel! Bad dogs, heel!’

I sat down on the pavement and my face got licked while Abby and Jo talked about things. The Jen and Phillipa were giggling and pointing at me. I didn’t know why.

Vaguely, I was able to take in snippets of what Abby and Jo were saying.

‘Had a shock…man following her…nasty Nigel.’

‘Girls, take the dogs back home, will you, I’ll be back soon,’ said Jo loudly, making me jump.

‘Byee, shee you later.’

For some reason the girls were giggling again as they led the dogs away.

‘Come on, Sam; let’s get you on your feet.’

I was hauled to my feet and with Jo on one side and Abby on the other, I weaved my unsteady way home. I was so happy to have my friends helping me; I just had to sing the first thing that came into my head.

‘I’m a little teapot short and stout, Here's my handle. Here's my spout. When I see the teacups, hear me shout: “Pick me up and pour me out!”.’

I wasn’t sure of the rest so I just kept repeating myself.

‘I’m a little teapot short and stout, Here's my handle. Here's my spout. When I see the teacups, hear me shout: “Pick me up and pour me out!”.’

Eventually, we arrived home and somehow they got me indoors and sat me on the sofa.

Jo swam into my vision.

‘Are you going to be alright?’

‘Yesh––I love you, Jo; you’re my frien’.’

‘Yes, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?’

‘Mmm…I love David too and the shildren, mustn’t forget the doggiesh…’

‘That’s right. Bye now.’

‘Byee!’ I flapped my arm, it seemed a bit rubbery.

Abby went out of the room with Jo and I could here some murmurings, but I couldn’t catch what they said.

I shut my eyes and dropped off for a minute. When I woke up it was dark outside and the little lamp was on in the corner. Abby was sitting reading a magazine.

‘Hello.’

She looked up and smiled. ‘Hi, feeling better.’

‘A bit, but I shtill feel a bit funny.’

She shook he head. ‘I think you should stop drinking alcohol altogether. It doesn’t agree with you.’

‘Mmm, I think you’re right,’ I said, yawning, ‘shorry for being sush a pesht.’

‘Well, if you are a pest, you’re my pest. Come on let’s get you to bed.’

I sort of zoned out again and the next thing I remember was being in bed with Abby next to me.

I shut my eyes for a moment and then opened them again.

‘I love you, Abby.’

‘Love you too, honey.’

I gazed at her face, just inches from mine. She was looking at me, smiling and stroking my hair with her long thin fingers.

‘Abby?’

‘What love?’

‘When I have my new gevina, can we do naughty things with it?’

‘Gev–oh, I see. Like what?’

I leaned over and whispered, ‘Vibratorsh.’

She giggled. ‘I’ll have to show you what I have in my bedside drawer. But are you sure you want to have surgery. It makes no difference to me. I love you for who you are not what you have between your legs.’

I thought for a moment. I was still a bit worse for wear, but my head was clearing a bit. I took a sip of water from the bedside table and turned back to her. Before long we were cuddling up close and I could feel her warm vibrant body through the softness of our satin nighties.

‘I want to be a whole woman,’ I continued, ‘I was never much good as a man, although I used to kid myself that I wash a shtud. Olivia and I had shecksh all over the place, but she wash the one to do the pushing and, on reflecshun, although she always said how wonderful I was, I don’t think that I was that great in or out of bed.’

‘Being a woman isn’t all about sex though.’

‘I agree. I love everything to do with fem–femin–being a girl. I love the clothes, the look and feel of things, being able to be pretty for you, having lots of girl friendsh. Not being aggresshive or mashcu…line…oh lotsh of things. It’sh the whole package.’

‘That’s how I feel,’ she said, rubbing one of my nipples through the thin fabric, making it rise slightly and stiffen. I returned the favour and soon we didn’t feel like talking any more and our tongues were exploring each other in a most interesting way––

Next morning, I wakened with a slight headache and a tongue that felt like leather. I was alone, but there was a note on Abby’s pillow.

Honeybunch,

Had to go and see to the cats. I’ll meet you down at the pottery a bit later and we’ll go into your new gallery to sort out what needs to be done before opening.

Love you heaps.

Abby
XXXX

I smiled and got up. After showering and washing my hair, my headache had near enough gone. Wearing just my silk robe, I had some tea and toast, then brushed my teeth and my tongue began to feel a bit more normal. I dressed in a white top and denim skirt, looking in the mirror, I thought that I looked semi-human but just about presentable. I swore that I would lay off anything stronger than Abby’s ginger bear in future. Soon, I was out of the door and making my way down the hill.

The day was fresh and it looked as if it was going to be another scorcher. I joined the gentle throng heading for the quay and the beach. I tried to rid my mind the things that happened yesterday, but I was continually looking at faces to see if that Statham bloke was around.

It seemed like no time before I was on the quay and at the door of the pottery.

There were a few people in there watching Abby doing her thing at the wheel. I loved the way her hands caressed the clay, remembering those hands doing rather nice things to me just a few hours ago. My nipples hardened at those rather naughty thoughts and I came over all unnecessary for some reason!

She looked up and smiled at me and then concentrated on the pot she was making.

Looking around the shelves, I could see the skill and beauty of her work. She was a true artist who knew what was popular and tasteful. With amazing swiftness, she finished the pot, placed it to dry out ready for firing in her kiln and then switched to sales mode and sold a couple of figurines to the punters. When they had gone, she came over and gave me a quick kiss.

‘Hi, love, saw my note then?’

‘Yes, I love your work.’

‘Mmm, it’s my hobby, passion and an important part of my life, like you.’

‘Awww, you really say the nicest things.’

‘Let’s pop next door and see your new domain.’

We left the pottery and Abby put a sign up saying “Back in thirty minutes”.

As we entered the gallery-to-be, I turned to her and kissed her several times.

‘What’s that for?’

‘I’m falling a bit behind on the rent.’

‘Not after last night. My lips are still sore!’

We giggled and then got down to business.

After fifteen minutes or so of measuring, making notes about what needed to be done and generally making plans, the door of the gallery opened.

‘Katie, hi!’

‘Hello, girls. I thought that you’d be here; look I’m in a bit of a rush. No developments re Nigel yet, but I have received an email from Olivia about the paintings you have stored at her house.’

I sat on a packing case and just looked at her.

‘She says that she will not give them to anyone but you and you have to go and collect them yourself.’

My heart sank. ‘When?’ I asked.

‘Tomorrow–Friday.’

‘That’s rather short notice!’ exclaimed Abby.

‘Yes, it is.’

I looked at them both.

‘I’ll have to go,’ I said, ‘in her state of mind; she might destroy them if I don’t.’

My friends looked at me and I felt rather sick again. I had to go back to my old home and see Olivia again. Something that I never really wanted to do; and now I had to.

---

¹ K: A trendy way of referring to a knighthood.

To Be Continued...

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.