Precious Time

A novella in three parts

By Erin G

Precious Time – Part 1

Spring was late that year in the burgeoning town in which I had arrived, somewhat precipitately, almost twelve months before. Through March and April, cold and snowy weather prevailed in the eastern two-thirds of the country, though warmer temperatures than usual were reported in most of the remaining states.

In the wide world beyond the city limits, momentous events were taking place. Early in his presidential election campaign, JFK had won the New Hampshire primary without having to face any real opposition. Many young people, myself among them, were more excited when it was reported that Elvis’s two years of military service had come to an end, enabling him to resume his singing career. Imagine if he should come to our town!

Less well received, had it been common knowledge, would have been intelligence of the CIA’s plans for the ill-starred Bay of Pigs invasion which would take place the following year, but even more worryingly for the nation, the Soviet Union had once again demonstrated its lead in the space race by the safe recovery of the dogs Belka and Strelka, which had been sent into orbit aboard Sputnik 5. Our boys were way behind!

Of more importance as far as I was concerned, however, were the continuingly favourable reports on the progress of my beloved Rachel through the first and second trimesters of her pregnancy. The expected date of the ‘confinement’ as it was still termed back then, was fast approaching. I must confess to suffering severe attacks of the jitters as time progressed. Yes, I was a worrier and to make my mental condition worse, I was shortly about to embark upon a modelling assignment which would take me away from home. I would not be around to give her my support for longer than a week and my impending absence weighed heavily on my mind.

She herself had made light of the eventuality. “Now Jenny Wren”, her pet name for me, that underlined my youthful inexperience, “I’m sure I will be fine here. Mom is not far away if I need anything, so you go ahead and have the camera take those pretty pictures of you. We need the money! I’d love to see you in all the glamorous clothes you will be trying on, but I guess I’ll have to wait until the proofs come back. Just be sure that you don’t get tangled up with anyone while you’re away. I’m sure there’s plenty out there that will find your charms hard to resist.”

“Oh, I can handle the men, all right. You needn’t be concerned.”

“It’s not the men I’m thinking of.”

I stared at her. Whatever did she mean? I guessed she was just being reassuring, but all the same, I felt ill at ease over the remark.

My itinerary in the coming days would mean travelling a thousand miles south and west, crossing three state-lines. The plan was for me to drive to the railhead in the next city, where I could pick up the Super Chief and that iconic train would carry me overnight to my final destination. I’d made the trip before, so I was a little piqued when Pete, my agent, phoned me to make doubly sure of the travel details. I was not such a little scatterbrain as all that! As it happened, there was an ulterior motive for the call.

The enthusiasm which always characterised her voice went up a notch once she had done listing the mundane logistics of the trip. “Jennifer, darling, I’ve some great news. We’ve managed to secure some additional work for you enroute. Before you board the train, you will have a couple of hours free so it’s arranged that you can get another photoshoot in. Better than hanging around at the station bored out of your head, don’t you think! The studio is only a small outfit, but by reputation they’re extremely professional, and lovely people. I’ll send you the address. No, don’t thank me. Gotta dash. Bye-ee!”

It was with mixed feelings that I put down the receiver. True, an additional modelling session would provide some welcome extra cash, but the downside was that it would entail a hectic afternoon finding my way across an unfamiliar town followed by a photo session at an unknown venue. The culmination would no doubt be a frantic sprint to the railway station so as not to miss my connection.

The prospect of all this extra hassle was not a pleasing one. However, I tried to remind myself of the compensations and that prevented me from feeling too sorry for myself. By taking this new challenge in my stride, I would show Pete that I was now a true professional. My seventeenth birthday was still some weeks away, but despite my lack of years, I reckoned I was ready to be taken more seriously. Also, the trip would be expenses paid, and I could look forward to enjoying the luxurious comforts of the streamliner. I just loved everything about that train, onboard which there was always the possibility of a chance encounter with a movie star, who might be travelling ‘Santa Fe, All the way’ and then on to Hollywood. I wouldn’t be going so far myself but who knows what excitement lay ahead of me? Life wasn’t all bad.

When the day of my departure finally came around, some tears were shed. Mine! I hated to be parted from Rachel. Five years my senior, she had naturally assumed the role of guide and mentor in our relationship. My absence would doubtless serve to remind me how much I depended on her wisdom in matters great and small.

“You will be back before I know it” she smiled “though of course I’ll miss you. Promise me you will be careful, please, and try not to get into any scrapes!”

Me!

The hour was early when I started and the sun had not finished burning away the mistiness of the morning. I headed out of town on the route south, repeating to myself that my paramour was right and that I would be home before either of us knew it. My little two-seater’s engine sang in the chill morning air and I made good progress. By midday the weather was appreciably warmer. I turned off the highway for my appointment at the unfamiliar studio right on schedule. I’d bought myself lunch when I’d filled up with gas at the last truck stop so and had munched my sandwich as I drove so there need be no unnecessary delay. The directions I’d been given by Pete were on the money so locating the place turned out to be a breeze. All the same, I drove past the building and stopped at a vacant lot a few blocks beyond and took stock of my surroundings.

This halt also served another purpose, giving me the opportunity to make some changes to my appearance. Almost as soon as I’d started modelling, I’d realised that having an alternate persona would have huge advantages for a girl like me. I could avoid unwanted publicity when it suited me. On this occasion I lost no time in donning a shoulder-length blonde wig and applying a more dramatic style of make-up. My work at the beauty parlour had given me all the necessary skills and ten minutes later, my transformation was complete.

Once ready I retraced my path and parked the little sportster outside the studio. Whenever I had a shoot at an unknown venue, I would be a bundle of nerves. Today, however, I was on such a tight schedule that there just wasn’t time for me to pay attention to any butterflies. I did a final check on my make-up in the rear-view mirror which helped bolster my fragile confidence, then alighted.

The building turned out to be a brick-built structure which had seen better days. On its faded signage could be made out the legend ‘Tiffany Photographic’ which removed any doubts that I had come to the wrong address. Though its dilapidated exterior would have disappointed even the most sanguine, the interior could well be better, I told myself optimistically. The reception area was scruffy, however, and its desk was presided over by a blonde woman of an indeterminate age, sporting the latest beehive hairstyle and a haughty demeanour. The sight, I felt, did not augur at all well!

My fears were well-founded. The warm welcome that Pete had led me to expect signally failed to materialise. Seconds ticked by before the woman deigned to raise her head from the letter she was studying and acknowledge my presence.

“Yes?” came her frosty greeting. The eyes appraised me coldly from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes. The result was clearly unfavourable, and she returned her attention to the document in her hand.

“I’m here for a photo shoot.” Time was pressing and it was essential to come straight to the point.

“Have you an appointment?” she sniffed.

“Yes, I do have an appointment. The name is Morgan. Mistie Morgan.” I restrained myself from raising my voice with difficulty.

The woman consulted her desk diary then looked at me dubiously. “I have nothing here under that name.”

Doubts assailed me. Surely the booking had been made in my professional name and not in Jennifer’s. Pete would never have committed such a blunder.

Fortunately, we were interrupted at that point. The inner doorway burst open and a familiar figure filled the aperture before me.
“Maurice!” I cried with relief.

The portly man’s features bore their invariably jovial expression. “Now here’s a sight for sore eyes! Hello! Hello! You are only just in time, Missy. Come through, come through. Has Jane offered you any refreshments? No? Coffee for our guest, please, Jane and sharp about it. She’ll take it in the studio. There is much to do and little enough time in which to do it.”

The woman rose reluctantly and left us to do as bidden. Maurice made a face behind her back. “Stuffy cow!” he mouthed with a sly wink at me.

“She didn’t know I was coming” I complained.

My companion held his hands up in surrender. “My fault, I have to admit. I was so full of triumph that I had been able to arrange this session with the proprietor, instead of relying on Pete, that I clean forgot to tell Jane about it. She didn’t have to be so snippy. Anyway, let’s look on the bright side. It will give her something real to complain about!”

I’d known Maurice since the start of my modelling career, some months before. Although he was one of my agent’s regular associates and often frequented the studio in my hometown, I’d never got to feel entirely comfortable when he was around. His manner bordered on the over-familiar, and though he had never actually overstepped the mark, I’d mentally pigeonholed the fellow as someone to keep at arm’s length. A girl can’t be too careful, after all.

On this occasion, however, it was a positive blessing to have him there, to smooth over my difficulties with the snooty receptionist. I followed the man through to the studio proper where he introduced me to Tony, the photographer and owner of the place. Here was an eyeful! The man was tall and rangy, and in looks what might best be termed a heartthrob. His eyes smouldered and seemed to penetrate right through me.

I was mesmerised. An unwanted tingling sensation in my nether regions served to provide a further symptom that I was experiencing a physical attraction to this dreamboat, and when he flashed his smile in my direction, I could literally feel my knees going weak in response.

Those wretched hormones!

Just now, however, I was eager to avoid any distractions and get on with the shooting, conscious that in only a couple of hours I had a train to catch.

“Super to meet you, Miss Morgan.”

“Er… I haven’t got very long, er… Tony” I stammered, blushing. “I’m sure Maurice has explained. Can you run over the set-up, please, and props and what I’ll be wearing and so on?”

Before the man could do so, my old acquaintance intervened.

“It’s quite simple” the fat guy wheezed, taking over. “The purpose of this afternoon is for you to model a range of summer frocks. They’re aimed at a younger clientele, so what you’ll need to be is fun and flirty. I’m sure you can manage that. The dressing room is this way. Follow me!”

My guide showed me through into a room at the back of the studio. It was sparsely furnished but provided some kind of dressing area. Against one wall was a rail of clothing amongst which hung an array of brightly patterned dresses. Some boxes of matching accessories lay beneath. As I took in my surroundings, Jane came in with the coffee and doubtless as a result of my companion’s overwhelming personality, she even managed a smile.

Once she had gone, the man gestured grandly at the rail of frocks. “The spring / summer range. I’ve represented this supplier before and the quality is all of the very highest, as I’m sure you will find for yourself. Now there’s no particular running order. Whichever dress takes your fancy will do for starters. I’ll let you get ready” and with those words he left me to my own devices.

It didn’t take long for me to select the first number. A yellow chequered little thing caught my eye straightaway. Having taken the precaution of checking that the door was firmly closed, I rapidly discarded my own clothing and squeezed myself into the constricting underwear I’d brought to wear underneath the dresses. Then I slipped into the frock and pulled up the back zipper. I thought it looked sensational on. True, its pretty flared skirt was a little on the short side for those conservative times, but there was no time to be choosey over trifles. To complete the look were a pair of pumps which matched the pattern of the dress perfectly. How cool! Their size was a little large for me, but that wouldn’t matter during a photo opportunity.

At that point and without any warning, Maurice breezed back into the room.

“Missy, hey! You look a million dollars”

Irritatingly, he hadn’t troubled to knock, and it was only my speed in changing that had preserved my modesty. I could have slapped the fellow.

“You might have asked before you came in, Maurice. How did you know I was decent?”

He smiled a tad sheepishly and gave me what might be taken for an apologetic wave. “Forgive me, sweetheart. Never gave it a thought.”

I was nettled by the complacency in his tone, and it was hard to content myself with a glare of disapproval. I didn’t retort “I’m not your sweetheart!” but it was on the tip of my tongue. As usual, any reproof would be lost on this urbane individual. Somehow, I’d never been able to put him in his place. Instead, I suffered myself to be conducted meekly back into the studio, cursing myself for my weakness.

“Jane will be available to assist you with your changes” my companion declared. “She’s a first-rate dresser and, as time is limited, will prove an absolute godsend.” Seating himself at the back of the room, he beamed at the lady in question. “If you want anything at all, just ask.”

Despite his recommendation I chose to retain my misgivings about Jane and inwardly resolved to manage without her help. I forced a smile in her direction, but it was purely for appearances’ sake. In any event my expression of friendship was lost upon the woman. She coolly strolled over to Tony head in air, passing me without meeting my eyes. The contrast in her demeanour as she approached the photographer, however, was so marked as to be comical. “Where do you want me, Tony. I’m totally at your disposal” gushed his willing assistant.

It didn’t need an IQ of 100 to understand what was happening here, but if Jane was throwing herself in his direction, the photographer failed to catch her. He brushed her aside with an icy “Well, to begin with you can set up the props, as usual, and after that, Miss Morgan may need your assistance. We must ensure she gets on that train. Isn’t that right, Miss Morgan?”

That smile again!

The tall man’s appearance was striking. I could see why the receptionist was so unashamedly dippy about him. He positively sizzled!

I attempted to adopt my most matter-of-fact tone but without much success. “Call me Mistie, please, or Missy. Everybody does. Er… I’m only available for couple of hours, but I hope that will be long enough for what you want from me.”

The words didn’t quite come out like I had intended, sounding far too similar to Jane’s recent effusion!

For some unfathomable reason, I imagined a sultry reply in my head. “What I want need would take a lifetime!”

No, of course he didn’t say that! Nor did I desire him to. Well, not really. My stupid hormones were running wild, that’s all. I blushed scarlet again.

In the event, his actual response was quite enough to be going on with. “Well Missy – that’s a cute name, just like its owner.”

On the receiving end of the hunk’s full attention, I found myself covered in confusion, for no apparent reason. Those eyes! I found myself reacting as though he’d made a pass at me. For heaven’s sake, girl!

My struggle to remove the foolish grin which I knew was spread across my face received assistance when I saw the scowl which was marring Jane’s own features. She was a woman who clearly wore her heart on her sleeve. It gave me a frisson of satisfaction to know I was the object of her jealousy, but although I was not averse to a little flirtation in the normal course of events, today things were different. I made my mind up not to get caught in the middle of something and resolved to tread warily.

A plain photo backdrop had already been unreeled in front of the camera. With the assistance of his trusty helpmate, the photographer dragged a tall free-standing mirror into position in the centre of it. I watched, intrigued, wondering what how this was going to work. Tony’s next gesture invited me forward.

I tried to look nonchalant as I stepped up to the glass, as if this wasn’t something totally new in my experience. My hesitancy must have been obvious as out of the tail of my eye, I could see Jane observing me derisively. There was nothing for me to do but reluctantly admit I needed help.

“How do you want me?” My words kept coming out all wrong. “To pose, I mean!” Surely, I could have phrased it less ambiguously! I could see Maurice’s features break into a salacious grin, not at all helpful in my struggle to regain my composure.

Tony, however, was only too happy to furnish explanatory detail. He came over and literally moved me into position while I tried to ignore the distraction that the handsome guy’s close proximity occasioned. It was hard not to tremble while my body was being firmly manipulated so. Why was this happening to me? I had been in this situation so many times before. It took a supreme effort to calm myself sufficiently to understand the man’s instructions and learn how to use my reflection to advantage.

Once I was posed as Tony desired, he made his final adjustments to the lighting, then announced “All we need now is a small movement of air across the girl’s body. That will bring the shot to life. Jane, the fan please.” And with that he stepped behind the camera.

I put on my best smile in anticipation and there was a click as a switch was closed. Next, what seemed like a Force 7 gale blasted across my limbs.

With my skirt fluttering wildly around my waist, I clung to the mirror, as to the Wreck of the Hesperus, until Tony hastily intervened.

“For pity’s sake, Jane, turn that thing down. What’s the matter with you? A gentle breeze is all!”

The woman made profuse apologies, which would have been more acceptable to me if a malicious glint had not been detectable in her eye as she came across to me. She helped straighten my clothing and order was quickly restored. As she turned away I thought I heard her mutter “Hands off, sister!” but I couldn’t be sure.

Maurice was clearly choking with laughter at our discomfiture. Eventually he spluttered “Now come on, people. Let’s get going.”

Seeing the humour of our situation also I relaxed completely. The interplay between the three of us added a little spice to the proceedings and my resolve to remain aloof went by the board. I really couldn’t help myself and perhaps my behaviour may have become a little coquettish. Okay, I flirted! Doing so with a good-looking stranger could be so much fun! Given the sourness of Jane’s expression, I wondered how far I could go before the woman exploded. I wasn’t to find out but it must have been a close-run thing.

Two hours later, with the session concluded, I felt quite pleased with myself. True, we hadn’t finished shooting the entire range of clothing. Tony had been meticulously thorough, taking what seemed an inordinate amount of time over each capture and my kittenish nature had probably been equally to blame. Somehow, I seemed to need the good-looking lensman’s intervention at every opportunity. Anyway, and as Maurice had pointed out, I could always come back for a rematch on my return trip.

“I won’t be around for that day’s shoot but I’m sure you will be safe in Tony’s tender care.” The man’s face bore an expressive smirk. “Now! I have to go. Plane to catch, sweetie! Bye!”

Jane looked none too happy over the prospect of my imminent return, but the prospect suited me fine. I liked the thought of seeing the rangy photographer again and anyway, I would get paid nearly twice over!

The knowledge that the session had been successful did wonders for my self-esteem. It was satisfying to reflect how I’d turned unpromising circumstances around. As I tripped back towards my two-seater, I began to think I could count myself a true professional, able to get the best out of any situation, instead of the ditsy teen I was usually regarded as. However, as I approached my car, these pleasant musings were harshly interrupted by a man’s voice. It spoke in tones of authority.

“Say, little lady, is this your automobile?”

My heart sank on hearing those words. I turned somewhat guiltily, expecting to see a traffic cop. No doubt he was about to advise me that I had parked illegally and berate me over the dire consequences of my misdemeanour. Instead, however, my gaze encountered an athletic figure of a man in a smart suit. His handsome olive features stopped me in my tracks. What is it with tall good-looking men in this town?

His manner seemed to indicate he represented some kind of officialdom, even if not in the precise role I had surmised. I tried to rally myself to meet this new challenge, whatever it might be. Humility appeared to be the only way out of my latest predicament.

“Is there a problem with where it’s parked, sir? I’m new to this city. Give me a break, please.”

“No problem, ma’am. I was intrigued, that’s all. A couple of hours back a little blue sportster passed me, and I could have sworn it was the same as this one. Foreign marques aren’t too common in these parts. Only thing is, the girl driving it happened to be a pretty little brunette.”

Had my disguise been so easily laid bare? In a vain attempt to brazen things out I protested. “So, what was wrong with that? I’m sure there are plenty of these cars around and about.”

“Come clean, lady! She looked a lot like you and was dressed like you, pink top an’ all. In my line of work you don’t forget a face, especially a head-turner like yours. Why the camouflage?”

I coloured to the roots of my ‘hair’ at the compliment. However, I wasn’t going to accept defeat so easily, whatever the man’s game might be. I tried to take the initiative. “What line of work?”

The man was unfazed. For reply, he reached inside his jacket and produced a badge. At a glimpse of the initials of the government agency displayed thereon, my feeble attempt at resistance dissolved. I would have to play ball.

“You’re right, it was me…, but there’s a simple explanation. The reason I’m got up like this is because I’m employed as a photographic model. But… in my ordinary life I don’t want to be subjected to all the publicity which accompanies my work. So… I have a working name, which is Mistie Morgan, quite well known in the right circles. She is blonde. I’m brunette. On assignment I wear a wig and all this make-up. Okay?” I finished, somewhat breathlessly.

He looked slightly bemused. “I guess so. What’s your real name, Miss Morgan?”

“What’s yours?”

The fellow laughed at my directness. “You’ve got some sass, girl, I’ll give you that.” He returned directly to the offensive, however. “It’s like it says on the buzzer I just showed you. You mean you didn’t read it? Always read the small print! I’m called Guy. Guy Martinez.”

“Er… I’m Jennifer Cartwright.” I shrank from supplying that further explanation. There was good reason for my hesitation. It would be a mistake to give out more information than the minimum.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Cartwright.”

I made him a little bob and smiled “You too, Guy. Can I call you Guy?”

“Well, it’s my name.”

I suddenly remembered that I had a train to catch.

“Will you excuse me, please. I have a ticket for the Super Chief and there isn’t much time.”

“Well, it won’t wait for you, that’s for certain. Don’t jump any red lights!” He reached down, opened the driver’s door and held it for me. “See you later, Miss Cartwright.”

I liked his good manners. My mom would have approved. Thanking him for his courtesy I seated myself demurely in the driver’s seat. He waved me off as I drove sedately away. I liked the man. His looks may not have been quite in the same league as those of my camera-wielding acquaintance, but they were pleasant enough for all that.

A brief stop at the same vacant lot I’d found earlier was sufficient to remove all traces of Mistie before I drove over to the station. It would be Jennifer who made the train ride. Time was evaporating rapidly, and conscious of the need for haste, I opened the motor up as I turned at the end of the block. I reached the station with just sufficient minutes to spare so I could check the car in before hastening onto the platform.

I boarded the train without any further delay, but it was already in motion by the time I claimed the ‘Roomette’ which had been reserved for me. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, I settled myself in and tried to relax, not too successfully. The adrenalin was still pumping and in the end I gave up the attempt. I needed sustenance, I decided. Before I could eat, however, dressing for dinner would demand some elaborate preparations. Who else might be riding the Super Chief that evening? I could only guess. Whatever celebrity I might have occasion to meet, I reckoned that I needed to look my best!

Before I could begin to change my attire, however, there was a tap at the door. Expecting that it was likely to be an attendant with an offer of help in turning down the bed, I called “Come in”.

The visitor did so. Looking up, I found myself staring into the eyes of the agent who had accosted me in the street not much earlier. He looked at me somewhat reprovingly.

“You didn’t think to check what stranger might be outside your door before inviting him in, I suppose? My, my! You certainly take your chances, miss!”

 
I could only surmise that while I’d been in the car changing my appearance, he had gone to the station ahead of me. I was at a loss for words. “Er… Guy? Why are you…?”

“You’re no doubt wondering what I’m doing here. Do you mind if I sit?”

I motioned him to seat himself on the sofa beside me and he did so with alacrity. His manner was abrupt and sharp. It might, I supposed, provide an insight into his character. I stared at the man round-eyed, waiting for him to speak.

“You deserve an explanation, and I’ll give you one” he began. “First, however, I need to ask for your help. You’ve heard about the latest stunt the Russians have pulled, I’m sure, with the recovery of those dogs from space. Just when it seemed we were drawing level with them, they go and achieve something we haven’t come near to doing yet… and can’t, for that matter. It makes us look like amateurs.”

“But we will get ahead, won’t we?” I urged. “Our scientists are just as good as theirs. Better, because they’re free.”

Guy looked at me appraisingly.

“We always win in the end, don’t we?” I continued. “They’ve got a head start on us, but it won’t last. We’ll get there first, wherever it is. Count on it!”

Like any other all-American kid, this was something I felt strongly about.

“I’m glad you see it that way.”

“There’s no other way to see it.” I was starting to get angry. Was this man some kind of Red?

I glared at the intruder.

“Cool down, lady. I’m with you on this. Believe me!”

I frowned discontentedly.

Guy went on. “Feeling as strongly as you do, I’m guessing you would do anything you could to help Uncle Sam?”

“Natch! Well, within reason.”

“Sure, within reason. There’s a very good reason. It strikes me, Jennifer, that with all your experience of disguise you’re used to leading a clandestine sort of existence. Am I right?”

“I guess.”

“In that case, you would find playing an undercover role easier than most girls your age. You may be only sweet sixteen, but you have done a lot of unusual stuff.”

“How do you know my age?” I was intrigued.

“Oh, I made a couple of calls when you were doing your stuff in that studio back there. I was keeping an eye on that locale as part of an investigation, and so I got curious when you breezed in. I had your licence plate, and the rest was plain sailing. Sorry, but I actually knew your real name before you told me it. You might be surprised to learn there’s quite a file on you back at base.”

“On me?” I was horrified.

“’Fraid so. You see, you’re quite an unusual sort of a… person.”

I was shocked into silence. Anyway, I couldn’t truthfully deny it.

“But that could be a good thing. Your unique traits mean that you could be ideal for a little job that I need someone to do. It would be easy for you and could prove a vital help for this great country of ours.”

Why did I not like the sound of this? “How easy?”

“Good girl! I knew I could count on you.”

I didn’t think I had agreed to anything as yet, but that didn’t check my new friend’s flow in the least.

“There’s a good reason the Russians are staying ahead of our boys in space. They’re getting some inside help, and we need to put a stop to it. There’s a new rocket fuel under development. It many times more powerful than the existing formula, but it’s as unstable as all hell. If we can find the fix we need for it, it could put our boys back in front. And it isn’t just in space. It would apply to all sorts of rockets.”

“You mean ICBMs?”

“Smart kid! The city you are heading for happens to have a research facility close by and it’s as leaky as a sieve. I need to find that leak, and I need your help. It will be exciting stuff, Jennifer. Are you in?”

I felt dubious. “Surely you don’t need me. I don’t know anything about science. Make-up and modelling perhaps but…”

“Trust me. You will be key to the success of this operation. It’s all about security of information. Think of it like that file we have on you. In the wrong hands that would be damaging. Some things need to be made known and some kept secret, in everybody’s interest.”

I stared at the man. Was that a veiled threat? I decided I had better play ball, just in case.

“All right. I guess.” Another thought occurred to me. “Why were you keeping an eye on the Tiffany studio?”

“We’re observing one of the people who works at the place. That’s all.”

I guessed it would be that woman, Jane. I was pleased to note that I had been able to spot a wrong ’un a mile away.

The agent got up. “Now. I need to make myself scarce. We mustn’t be seen together, you understand.”
I nodded, though I didn’t understand at all. What would happen next in this rigmarole I’d landed myself in?

As if in answer to my unspoken question, “Carry on with what you are doing, just as if we’d never met. I’ll be in touch. Be seeing you!”

I had plenty of food for thought as I changed for dinner. Soon I was tastily attired in a stylish little frock which I’d brought with me for the occasion. I made my way to the dining car and found that refreshments were already being served. I prepared myself to be pampered for the rest of the ride. I could forget my troubles for a while. I found myself wondering whether a Hollywood movie star might be in this very car even now. That helped to take my mind off recent events. This was living!

It was fortunate that I’d been prompt in taking my place because the dining car soon filled up with hungry travellers. I was only mildly disappointed when, instead of a member of the ‘Rat Pack’ or some such celebrity, an elderly couple seated themselves at my table, Stephen and Martha. Ah well! You can’t win ’em all.

We soon got talking. Apparently, the couple made the return trip regularly. “Every month without fail you will find us on this train” the man quavered. “We visit my son. We’re on the way home again now.”

His wife chimed in with “He’s a good boy but I just know he doesn’t look after himself properly, and... he’s got an awful sweet tooth. I take him some real home-baked cakes, and cookies too.”

“She spoils him. Him, a grown man. If it wasn’t that I like the journey, I’d say no.”

“You know you want to see the boy as much as I do, Stefan.”

“I like to ride the rails, dear!”

The homely woman seemed to me to be the personification of motherliness, reminding me of Rachel’s own kind parent. She was full of curiosity about where I was headed and appeared to be shocked that a young woman like myself was travelling so far alone. But that was okay. I didn’t mind her interest in me and though her husband tried to check her questioning, I answered up, confining myself to telling her about Jennifer’s college studies. If my modelling career had been under scrutiny, it might have been a different conversation, but as I didn’t bring that up, I felt little need to fend off the woman’s gentle probing.

After the meal I excused myself as wanting an early night and my companions beamed their approval of such decorous behaviour in so young a person. I promised to sit with them at breakfast and took my leave. My need of rest was no myth. After such a full day I felt exhausted and was glad to be alone at last. I sat listening to the clickety clack of the carriage and could have dozed off there and then.

But before I could surrender to sleep, I desperately needed to review the events of the day and in particular the proposed clandestine activity I had been tasked with. I could easily back out, of course, but that went against the grain. If I were able to help my country in its hour of need that would be something I could justly be proud of. I could imagine the look of pride on my dad’s face if he were ever to hear of it, not that the macho man was ever around. All the same it would be so much better to hear the words “Well done, son!” than to sense the pervading air of disappointment I usually had to endure when we did meet.

Yes, I used the term ‘son’ advisedly. Despite my outward appearance, I had indeed been born a male and the reasons why this particular sixteen-year-old was sporting a chic girl’s hairstyle, possessed of a feminine set of curves, made up to the nines and dressed in the fashionable female attire of the day, are complex. The explanation owed much to the way my upbringing had been dominated by my mother’s belief that feminisation was the most effective method of curbing wayward behaviour in a growing youth.

Mom didn’t subscribe to the view that my misdemeanours were only what might be expected of any red-blooded teenage boy. After Dad had abandoned us, each and every transgression was met with sterner and sterner measures designed to eradicate my masculinity and gee, had her regime been thorough! The practice of being dressed as a girl which had started as an occasional punishment had quickly become my usual routine. Rigorous training in girlish ways was topped by indoctrinating mind games. What capped it all was extensive hormone therapy. Being subjected to the latter, initially without my being aware, had produced very noticeable physical changes in my body plus the curious side-effect that my ‘interest’ in the ‘opposite’ sex (girls) was now supplemented by undesired feelings of attraction in the other direction. I was one confused teenager!

However it had come about, the result was that my figure now most resembled that of a girl in her late teens and a well-endowed one at that. Events since then included leaving home, gaining a day job in a beauty salon and undertaking the study of a Skin Therapy course at a medical college. It hardly seemed out of place that I had also embarked on a career as a photographic model and had married Rachel, my childhood baby-sitter.

Though my musings had been inconclusive I slept soundly that night in spite of the turmoil which had been going round and around in my head. The sound of the train’s wheels and the soothing motion sent me off as soon as my head touched the pillow. I was well refreshed when I woke the following morning and joined my recently met friends for breakfast as arranged. After we had eaten, there was still a little time before the train was due to pull in at our destination, so the elderly woman asked me to sit with her a while.

“It’s a real treat for me to have such a well-mannered young woman like yourself to speak with” she began. “My husband is getting so deaf that it’s hard to hold any kind of conversation with him, and besides, chatting is never the same with a man. I always wanted a daughter, you know, but it wasn’t to be. We have fine son and I’m thankful for that. You should meet him. He would be better off with a nice steady girl like you than with some of the ones he knows. The hussy he works with!” Martha shook her head sadly. “We make this trip to visit him regular as clockwork. I get to spend time with family, and it gives my old man an excuse to indulge his interest. He’s a bit of a train fanatic! His memory isn’t what it was but he can tell you everything there is to know about railways.”

I was happy to pass the time with my new friend engaged so. It seemed like an opportunity to experience something of what I imagined it must be like to have a normal mother. True, my own parent was always interested in me and in the minutiae of my life, but I always felt that with her there lurked a hidden agenda. She lost no opportunity that came her way of moulding me into the ‘daughter’ she wanted me to be. While I was now reconciled to and content with my apparently female status, I knew that without my mom’s manipulating hand I would have been a very different person. The minutes passed pleasantly by and all too quickly and before long the train was slowing down and drawing into the station where we were to alight.

After saying goodbye to my companions I headed across the platform and over to a waiting cab.

“Plaza Hotel, please” I instructed the driver, and settled back into the seat.

The events of the previous day already seemed completely surreal as we left the station concourse for the hotel. I knew the Plaza to be one of the most prestigious establishments in town and had stayed there before. I could look forward to a week of luxury which would be generous compensation for the minor hardship of being away from home. After only a short cab ride, I checked in. I tipped the porter who brought the luggage to my room, then picked up the phone to arrange a long-distance call to Rachel. It already seemed an age had passed since we’d last been together.

When it came through, hearing her voice actually seemed to emphasise the hundreds of miles that lay between us. I had to try very hard not to let my tears, to which I was very close, show in my voice. She too seemed a little emotional but passed it off in jocularity.

“I hope you are behaving yourself, young lady!”

“What, with all these handsome men throwing themselves under my feet?” I rejoined. “It’s too good an opportunity for a girl to pass up the chance to have a little fun!”

“And you aren’t just any girl.”

“Indeed not! I’m never sure quite who I am but whatever it might be there’s always an opportunity for pleasure.”

“I can see you’ve forgotten me already. I will just have to wait patiently at home in case you ever come back.”

An hour later I was indulging myself by taking a steaming bubble bath and washing all traces of travel from my pampered self. While my body was totally relaxed, the same could not be said for my mind. My brain was going 100 miles per hour. What would the morrow hold for Agent J, as I had begun to think of myself?

I little knew!