Chapter 5

We saw a lot of each other as the school year drew towards its end. Charles was like a puppy dog with me, ready to help me sit, ready to get me drinks, and I expect he would be ready to hump me given the chance. Needless to say, I didn’t give him that chance.

The end of the fourth year would be another change with our lessons. When we had been graded and would only continue with subjects that we could be certain of passing with the big exams at the end of the fifth year. For me, that could be everything I had been studying that was on the National Curriculum.

Thinking about this, it prompted me to ask Julia, the House Mistress, what happened if we passed enough exams to go on. She told me that Longburrow took us to the first exams, and I would move to another school, Warren, which was in Oxford, alongside the University, but not connected to it. It would be the University that would grade our exams next year as well as after two years at Warren.

When I had a chance, I rang Elizabeth to ask if my schooling had been paid for through University, should I reach that far. She told me that there was plenty of money to take me to whatever University I wanted to go to. I then asked her about having the operations to make me female, seeing that I was so far down the track.

“That’s not a problem, Frankie, if you’re sure about it. You’ve been passing as a girl in a girls’ dorm for two years. I’ll organise a visit to a specialist for a couple of days after you start the summer break. If we can get you into a clinic then, you’ll be a complete woman when you start fifth year. You’ll be sixteen when you go under the knife, and able to make your own mind up.”

We knuckled down for the end of year exams and there wasn’t a lot of socialising. I had produced several paintings, which I was told would be certain would get me a good mark. I was now fluent in Spanish, French, and Italian. My maths and English studies were good, and so were Physics and Chemistry.

We had a final exam in dressmaking, where we had to design and make a wedding dress to fit ourselves, using the needlework and embroidery as well. It was a big ask but I made one with big enough seams to let it out should I want to wear it at my own wedding. I had one of the other girls take a picture of me which I sent to Elizabeth.

Some of us also had a final exam in shooting, being taken to the local range to shoot over neutral ground. I didn’t beat a couple of boys who were bound to join an elite regiment, but I did get close enough to be given a special award as the best girl.

When Elizabeth arrived to pick me up, she had a big garment bag for the wedding dress, which she thought was truly beautiful. The Headmistress had asked her to call into the office, and I joined her, wondering what she wanted to see us for. It turned out that I had passed nine exams with commendations in every subject. As such, I was going to continue with these in fifth year. She said that the school didn’t go all out to praise individual students, but if they did, I would be singled out.

Elizabeth told her that it made her a very happy mother, and that I was going to get a special holiday over the break, which would bring me back for fifth year as a new, and invigorated, woman. As we drove towards London, I told her that she was wicked, and telling porkies was enough to send her to hell. She laughed.

“Frankie, my girl. I was only telling her the truth. You’re having a holiday that you can only take once in your life, and by the time you start fifth year you’ll be that new woman.”

She was right, as usual. The specialist took one look at me, asked a few questions about my commitment, and signed me off for the operation. The second week of the break saw me in a private clinic with the best surgeon in the business. Two weeks before going back to school, I had changed my name to Francesca Emily Valerie and had a bank account opened in that name, banking a considerable cheque that the gallery gave me. Elizabeth transferred my other earnings into it, and I was given a debit card to use.

Elizabeth told me that I would get a new passport in that name. “A real one, this time!” I spent a few days giving my card a hammering at lingerie shops. Seeing that I could make my own outer wear, it was only underwear that I needed. I also had a Valerie’s card that I could use, linked to my trust fund. I was told that I still needed to stay below the radar until I was eighteen, so any visit to the administrators would be on hold until then. All they knew was that I was still alive and doing well.

Fifth year was full on. I had the idea that we were going so far along every subject that the following exams would be easy. I worked hard and did well. I also went a little further with Charles. We were at the kissing and cuddling stage, and he wet his pants the first time his hand felt my breast under the very sexy bra. Before Christmas, I took him into the bushes beside the golf course, finding a nice spot to let him have his way with me. It was way better than the dilator and even the vibrator I had bought.

Elizabeth and I visited the Christmas markets in Germany and we both scored with nice German boys. I was determined that if Charles was to be mine for life, I would have something to measure him by. So far, he was standing up well.

The rest of the school year was hectic, with me studying hard and only painting to relax. When I looked at what I produced, I could see stress in the pictures. When we took them to the gallery, they were over the moon and told me that the asking prices had just doubled again. I was still signing them as Emily Mottram, as that was what the school still had me listed as.

The final exams took over two weeks to sit. When we had finished, Charles asked me if I would stay with him at a hotel in Warwick, to celebrate. I packed my best nightie and wore black underwear with a slinky slip dress. We had dinner, went dancing, and then went to our room to screw like rabbits into the early hours. In the morning, he gave me a box with a ring in it and asked me if I would marry him.

I told him “Maybe” and to hold on to the ring until we had finished our studies. Elizabeth had arranged another holiday for us, which I think was more for her than it was for me, so I didn’t see Charles over the summer, even though he called me every week. We were in America when I got a text to tell me that I had passed all nine subjects and was to start at Warren at the beginning of the next term. A package would be delivered to me at the Post Office address we had given them.

The next call I got from Charles wasn’t good news. He had graduated, but hadn’t passed enough to go to Warren, so his parents were going to start him as a stylist in one of the salons. I commiserated with him and told him that I would be at Warren, so, if he could be at a salon near Oxford, I would drop in to let him work on my hair. He wasn’t a happy boy when he hung up on me.

We were six weeks in America, seeing all the sights and trying the different foods. We stayed in good hotels and we both shared our beds with the occasional boy. I was becoming quite good at the sex part, with every boy happy to have been with me. I might come across as being a bit of a slut, but, to me, it was all research into a concepts that I was toying with for the stores when I take over. I had found that the Valerie’s stores were a little mundane, if classy. I wanted to add a range of clothing that some might call clubwear. We could dress a lady for the afternoon tea, or for the races, but we fell short with that demographic that was trying to snare her man.

There was something else that I was wondering about. I thought that we could add a beauty salon to every store, so that a customer could get a make-over to suit the outfit she had just bought. My initial idea was that they could be called ‘Frank’n’Style’.

Back in London, I picked up the package and went through the paperwork. I needed to find my own accommodation in Oxford and asked Elizabeth about that. She told me that someone would find somewhere. The subjects that I needed would be pared to five, so I could drop four. The classes were more like the University method, with lectures and assignments. There wasn’t a place for me to paint, so the accommodation would need a room with a good aspect so I could set up a studio.

When it got close to starting at Warren, I was seventeen and living in a flat within walking distance of the college. It was my own place, free and clear, and I was told that if I had two years at Warren, then three years at Oxford, I would be able to sell it for a profit. There was one room with a sunny aspect, where I set up an easel and brought in a range of oils. I had a big source of inspiration with my pictures from America. For the first time that I could remember, I was on my own, had to cook for myself and clean up afterwards.

I was still listed as Francesca Mottram at Warren, so hid my new passport in a small safe that was set in one wall of the bedroom. The classes I took were Maths, Physics, English Literature and both French and Italian. All would set me up for several University courses later on. The teaching methods took a week or two to get used to, but they did give me plenty of opportunity to do research and even some painting. Elizabeth had given me a new computer with a big memory, a printer, and best of all, a thirty-two-inch monitor that allowed me to view my big collection of photos so that I could get inspiration for a painting. I also started taking pictures of the wonderful buildings around Oxford.

I kept myself focused during the two years at Warren. I only socialised with other Warren girls that I had known at Longburrow, including Penelope and Margaret. Penny and I would go clubbing occasionally, to score boys and get a good seeing to, but it was just sex for both of us. Until she met Chris, a University student who had his own flat, his own car, and a family manor house in the Cotswolds. After that, she was often out with him, or else staying at his home over the weekends. Without a wingman, I tended to stay home more, getting on with my studies and painting.

While I was painting, I would think about how my life had changed over the ten years since my parents were killed. I thought about the boys I had bedded and realised that I hadn’t really been committed to any of them, even Charles, my first true lover. I couldn’t see me standing in church with any of them.

That’s when I started painting from my imagination, rather than from pictures. My next six paintings became my ‘Star-crossed lovers’ series, with them all with a couple in an intimate moment with something odd going on. Then I started a series which I called ‘Racegoers’ where I imagined people at race events and used my drawing skills that I had honed during the dressmaking classes to picture wonderful outfits.

I would go to stay at the Drama Studio during the breaks and we would take my latest offerings to the gallery. They now had my banking details and would pay my sales directly into that. I could see, from my bank statements, that the price of my work was going up every year. It was during the Christmas break in my second year that I saw Bancroft for the first time in ages.

He was seriously excited when he told me that my nemesis had been killed by another inmate in the Brazilian prison. From what he had been told, it had been a difference between drug gangs that caused a riot, with several inmates being killed, Bastien being found in the prison laundry with a number of stab wounds.

This had occurred a couple of months before, but I hadn’t been told at the time because the three thugs were still around. What happened after, he said, was almost comedy. The three, now unable to talk to their boss and running short of funds, decided to rob a bookie, not knowing that they were under a loose surveillance. Of course, the robbery didn’t go as they planned and all three had been arrested. They had been deported last week to face criminal charges in Brazil. I was free of any danger and could now follow my parents’ path.

My problem was that I didn’t want to just become the chairperson on a board. I was taking my own path as a successful student, likely to attend Oxford, as well as a successful and commercially accepted painter. Tom couldn’t come back. I was now fully committed to be Francesca Valerie and forge my own future. When I did get accepted at Oxford, I asked them to change my name and showed them my passport as evidence. I still signed my paintings as Emily Mottram to keep them at a distance from my real life. It was in the summer break that I stood with Penny as she married her man, her baby bump hidden in her flowing dress.

After Warren, Bancroft took me to see the administrators. The company was the same, but the people looking after Valeries’ had changed. None had been there when I had been to see the company before. We sat in the boardroom, and I was given a summary of the assets and the turnover. Now I was eighteen, I would be allowed to take over as chairperson. I told them that they were doing a great job and that I still had University to work through.

I started University in an Arts course, studying Art History. This gave me an insight into how others had worked, as well as all the different mediums that had been used. My thesis was on the evolution of Commercial Art over the years, with me drawing examples of different eras as part of my argument. Over the three years I was at Oxford, I would get emails from the administrators to tell me the latest figures. My parents had chosen well, as nearly every site was doing well, even the overseas ones.

That started me looking at the business papers and taking an interest in the stock market. One day, I read an article about the chain of ‘Beatrice Beauty Salons’ and how they were having problems with cash flow, as their rents were climbing. I emailed the administrators and asked them if they could carry out due diligence on the salons, with a view to buying the chain when it was cheap enough. I explained that I had the idea of salons in, or near to, every Valerie’s store.

I had graduated and was having a rest when my phone rang. The administrators told me that the salons were about as cheap as they ever would be, and I told them to make a take-over bid. I looked around my Oxford flat and made the decision to move to London. I travelled into the city and spoke to real estate agents, finding a nice apartment, not far from the Drama School. It had a spare bedroom with great light for me to use it as the studio. Three weeks later, I had moved in and put the Oxford flat on the market. That sold inside a week, to an overseas student starting at the University.

I was starting to get involved in the business, something that I thought would never happen. I hired a car and driver and went to visit every store. This took six weeks, and I ended up as quite friendly with my driver, Sally, a blonde in her thirties who thought that visiting every one of the stores was a hoot. At the flagship store, in London, I got the manager to organise a discount card for her. At the last store we visited, I got the manager to let her loose on my account as a thank you for a safe trip.

At every stop, I told them that they were masters of their own destiny and that nothing would change while they did well. We did discuss the idea of in-store salons. Only a few were big enough to put one in, but several managers told me that there could be premises close by which may be suitable. I could tell them that we owned a chain of salons, so would be closing the non-profitable ones and that there would be plenty of equipment that we could utilise.

The administrators had a small team looking after the salons, and they were very quick to find the ones we should close. We had paid enough for Charles and his parents to walk away, his folks moving into retirement and Charles opening up his own salon, where he was the chief stylist. We transferred some into nearby Valerie’s and shut the others, sending the equipment to the other stores big enough to fit them in. We retained a lot of the staff, with some happy to move out of London. The salons were re-branded as Frankie’s Faceworks and started to get quite a bit of business from day one of opening.

In the new year, I set myself the task of visiting the overseas stores. I called the car company and asked if Sally was able to travel to Europe for about six weeks. The six stores were in Paris, Marseille, Madrid, Seville, Turin, and Rome. We left London on the train to Paris, where I had made an appointment with the manager.

The fact that I could talk to her in French made my job a lot easier. The stock was a lot more European, and I saw some very good brands. I wondered why we didn’t have these in Britain, other than the London store. At the end of the second week, we had been to Marseille and had crossed the border into Spain. Here, I was able to speak Spanish to my managers and discuss business. We were a two weeks in Spain, and when we drove north again, I told Sally to head for Cannes, where I had organised a few days at a hotel, just for a rest. Sally and I were able to relax before the next leg.

The manager of the Turin store had not been able to see me for a week, so we went directly down to Rome, where I spoke to the manager there in Italian. In their store, I saw a brand that I had never seen before. It was from the House of Antoin and was told that it was a company co-owned by our Turin manager and his sister. I put a lovely dress on my account to wear some evening. We had a couple of days in Rome before backtracking to Turin to meet Antoin Ferrari, the last manager on the list.

When he walked out of his office to greet me, my heart lurched. He was about my height, a little older than my age and very handsome. We discussed his store and the future in Italian, until he spoke to one of the salesgirls in French. I asked him about his name, which was French in origin, and he gave me a sunny smile, telling me that he was born in France, son of an automotive engineer, and the family had moved to Turin when his father had been offered a job in an auto manufacturer there. From then on, we spoke a mixture of French and Italian, depending on the meanings we wanted to convey.

He invited me out for dinner that evening, and I accepted. I was careful with my preparations, using a little lube, just in case. I wore the dress I had bought in Rome. He picked me up at the hotel entrance in one of the bigger Alfa Romeos and smiled when he saw what I was wearing.

“My sister will be happy to see you looking so good in that dress, Madam Valerie. That’s one of her new designs,”

“They told me that it’s a brand that you have an interest in, seeing that it bears your name.”

“Madam has been doing her homework, just as a good owner should. Yes, we are co-owners of the dressmakers, but she is the designer. The reason that I couldn’t see you before is because I had to be in Milan to sign the documents for us to be part of a fashion show in six weeks. She is at home, wracking her brains for some killer designs for us to launch.”

“Enough of this Madam business, Antoin. Call me Francesca, or call me Frankie, seeing that you’re taking me to dinner.”

He took me to a good restaurant where he was known, and we had a lovely meal. Afterwards, he asked me if I liked dancing, and I told him I did. We went to a night club where we had a few drinks, a few laughs, and a lot of dances, his hold getting tighter as the night wore on. We ended up back at his house with me in his bed.

I was redressing when I noticed one of my pictures on his bedroom wall. It was one of the ‘Racegoers’ series. I asked him about it.

“It’s one of my favourites, Frankie. I have a couple more of the series downstairs. Sometimes Rosetta would look at them for inspiration. The outfits are exquisite, but we think that copying them would be illegal.”

“Not if the artist gave you permission.”

“I’ve asked around, but there is just the one gallery that sells her work, and they don’t have an address for her. It’s frustrating to see such good design but not able to use it.”

“Take me back to the hotel. Tomorrow, I want to meet your sister and I might be able to help her with that inspiration.”

He drove me to the hotel, letting me out of the car after a goodnight kiss. In the morning, I told Sally to take herself and the car back home, giving her a wad of cash to spend on the way. I said that I was staying on in Turin for a while and would fly back.

At the Valerie’s store my legs went weak when I saw Antoin again. He gave me a hug and a quick kiss before introducing me to Rosetta, his younger sister. He left us to talk, and she showed me some of her work on the racks. I asked her why the brand wasn’t in other Valerie’s stores outside Italy.

“We aren’t very big, Madam. We are at full stretch to supply what we can here. The fashion show in Milan is a big thing for us, if we can be noticed, we may attract some support to move to a bigger building and employ more seamstresses.”

“Would you accept support from me?”

“Would you? That would be marvellous. All I need is some new designs.”

“You have a picture of racegoers at you home. This is something that I can support you with today.”

I pulled a hotel greeting card from my bag. Inside, I had drawn one of the outfits from the picture, with the rear view next to it. Underneath, I had written, ‘I give Antoin Designs my permission to use my fashion pictures as a basis for their designs’ and signed it with the same signature as on the picture.

She took a look at it and had to sit down.

“You are the artist who painted those pictures? Antoin loves them. He has tried to track down the artist but wasn’t able to find her.”

“That’s because I was going through University and have changed my surname since. My middle name is Emily, and the Mottram part was because of a little problem with someone trying to kill me before I took over my parents business. It kept me safe through High School.”

She giggled.

“That’s almost an Italian opera, Madam.”

“Now, I’m Francesca Emily Valerie. I’ve told Antoin to call me Frankie, so you start to call me that. Do you prefer Rosetta or Rosie?”

“I’m Rosie in the family, Frankie. By the look on Ants’ face this morning, you might be family too, before long.”

Marianne Gregory © 2024