Friday morning came the way it usually did, far too late in the week. I managed a bus trip without added audio, and after assembly shepherded a flock of teenagers as they laid out the tables ready for our start at ten thirty.

I was still shaken by the scene with Jules, and the vast depths of her fear. I couldn’t quite see it as she did, because I was someone that fitted the lived reality of trans women rather than the usual fictional stereotype of ‘small, pretty’. I couldn’t feel all of her fear because she was in a place I had never been permitted to enter. No pain, no gain, and as I had never gained, I had avoided at least some of the pain.

Sod that. She had been smiling when she had left my place that evening; just stand by her, ready to catch her if she fell and pray that she wouldn’t.

Place markers. I set out the A3 sheets, each bearing the first name of a Mysteron: Caroline, Anne, Merry, Daniel, Mo H, Mo K, Juliet and so on, before calling over one of the admin staff?

“Sorry, Trace, but we’ve got another Mysteron for today. Name’s Brian C. Could you do me a place marker, please? Ta!”

Ten fifteen, and the chumps, Mysterons, were gathered in a classroom. I did the Official Welcome And Thank You speech, spotting Brian next to Jules, and oh dear me he was still one for my private naughtiness gallery. The one that I would play on the backs of my closed eyelids when I needed to see if Mister Thomas’ work still, well, worked.

Not now, Babbage.

“If you’d like to follow me to the Hall, each of you will find their name on a table surrounded by our little treasures and hope for our future prosperity, et cetera. I do understand that you will get questions that can’t be answered exactly with ‘yes’ or ‘no’, so we do accept an occasional ‘not exactly’ and the like, but please do your best not to lead the kids. This is a critical thinking and deduction exercise. Above all, though, just enjoy yourselves. We have tea, biscuits and home made cake for you. When I say ‘home made’, I actually mean from our domestic science classes, but as I have tested it, you’ll be fine”

Mo Khan, our pilot, asked how I had tested it, exactly, so I gave him the truthful answer.

“Same way I do every year, Mo: ate some. See the spaces on the plates?”

We entered the hall with some laughter, and my Mysterons headed out for the game before the Head made the plenary announcement, as my teacher training had described ‘Telling everyone’.

One thing I had drummed into my charges was etiquette in questioning. Each pupil, starting at their Mysteron’s right, would ask a question, moving right each time until all had tried, then back to pupil one. Every ten minutes, the Head would tell the groups to move forward one table and start on a new victim. It avoided the place turning into a noisy hellscape of shouting, which was something we reserved for the staff room.

Along with other teachers, I cruised the tables, listening to a few of the questions, pleasantly surprised and/or pleased by the sharpness of some and unsurprised by several coming from those pupils with rather deeper educational needs than their peers.

To Mo K: “Do you have to travel in your work?” (“Yes”)
To Simon Jenkins: “Do you work in an office?” (“Not exactly”)
To Caroline Nelson: “Do you wear a uniform?” (“Yes”)
To Merry Jenkins: “Do you like Linkin Park?” (“How do you link a park?”)

That one might need a little prod, as I could see no relevance to the question, but I would let Merry’s answer go, as I could still see no relevance to the question. Finally, the call came for ‘Time!’ and we began the process of delivering the answers after collecting all the team sheets. I walked around with the roving mike as each of our guests revealed their role in life, starting with Mo Khan. The Head was chuckling as he read the answers submitted.

“Mo, there have been some wonderful suggestions here. You are suspected to be a Formula One driver, a Ryan Air pilot, a paramedic and a train conductor. Want to reveal?”

Mo took the mike from me.

“Paramedic is actually quite close, as I am one of the pilots for the Air Ambulance”

Some of the kids squealed, and I heard a murmur of ‘I bloody TOLD you all’, but that stopped once I had turned on my well-known Babbage Glare. The Head was already on the next one.

“Merry Jenkins. Estate agent, undertaker, cleaner, pro musician and one I assume came through local knowledge, and that is ‘Vicar’s wife’. Your reveal?”

She laughed, true to her name.

“Parish clerk. And vicar’s wife, so cleaner as well”

Brian got a number of proposals, apart from Juliet’s, of course, one of which was ‘farmer’, which deeply puzzled me. Juliet also got that one, which actually made sense in her case, while among the other and stranger suggestions was that Caroline Nelson was an Army officer rather than a saleswoman in a duty-free shop, and Annie Johnson, our cycling police sergeant, was a fast food delivery driver.

I left the Head to gather together the various wash-up sessions for the pupils and led the Mysterons to our classroom cum sanctuary before Mo was completely swamped by worshippers, storing up one boy’s question about Chinese helicopter pilots for later retribution, and set the mingle-gossip machine going with a cheery “Undertaker, Merry? Got any embalming fluid to hand? I’m a bit dry”

They were soon nattering freely, helped by the fact that half of them knew each other rather well, especially Mr and Mrs Vicar. I tried to make myself hang back, but in the end I had to say hello to him.

“Brian. Thanks for coming. Gemma Babbage. I got handed this job as a sort of junior hand. Not THAT junior anymore, but some of our teachers are a bit senior, if you get my drift”

He was older, naturally, but the smile was still there, and that slim athleticism, and I had to remember that he was now off market and down, woman.

He smiled that smile back at me.

“Who made the cake, Miss Babbage?”

“Gemma, please. Our fourth form domestic science pupils. Not so much a moveable feast as a variable one, I’m afraid, or at least inconsistent”

“Um, yeah. I normally expect a Victoria sponge to be a little, well, taller”

“And lighter? Fluffier?”

A sharp nod, followed by a glance at Jules.

“My friend here did warn me the food might be a bit, er, immovable. She was being polite”

“Jules is almost always polite, in my experience, except when she talks about BHDs”

His grin was even nicer than his smile.

“Bloody Handbag Dogs? Yes. She’s already taught me that one”

That was a positive tell if ever I heard one. He cocked his head slightly before asking, “How do you know Juliet here?”

Here it came.

“I was at school here. Year above yours”

“I don’t remember you…”

The mental cogs trying to mesh were almost audible, never mind visible in his expression. I wasn’t going to enlighten him unless I absolutely had to, of course.

“Different surname now. Long story. Anyway: did you enjoy today?”

“Sort of. Some of your kids are a bit earnest. Others, well, not as engaged as they might be”

I nodded, head tilted slightly for that ‘slightly sarcy’ effect.

“Well, they are getting out of formal classes for a couple of hours doing this, so yes, they will see it as a lark. The others, hopefully, get a little bit of insight into structured questioning and deduction. Our fluffies like that idea”

“Fluffies?”

“History, geography, that sort of thing. Current curriculum has moved away from dates and kings and 1066; more concerned now with teaching about bias, conscious and unconscious”

“Is that what you teach?”

Jules snorted, so I gave her a micro-Paddington.

“I teach science, and my background is physics, so bias there is something on a spinning object”

I found myself grinning.

“The internet may be full of cats, but it also abounds in bovine ordure. Mr Newton handles biology, so at least I am spared the Young Earth Creationist drivel”

He laughed, and casually laid one arm across my friend’s shoulders for a gentle hug.

“Jules did say you could be a little direct. I see she undersold you”

He took another glance at her, then tried a slightly different smile, one with a nervous twitch.

“She might slap me for this… I… It would be nice to get to know each other’s friends. I’m a little out of that loop, with, well, my circumstances. It’s getting warmer, and I have a very well-kept garden--- yes, Jules, I know it didn’t use to be. It is now, and that’s what matters. Tradition, well: are you a vegan, or anything like that?”

“Well, I try not to eat anything that’s still moving, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

“Barbie season. We’re off to the New Forest in a few days, with the hound, so I can get some practice in. It would be nice to find a weekend when we’re all free, as in us and our friends. Few drinks and some burnt crispy bits”

He was still twitching but his arm remained about her shoulder, and hers had slipped around his waist. In a much quieter voice, he murmured, “Starting a new relationship, Gem. Bloody awkward. Don’t want to be too pushy, don’t want to look like I’m hiding the fact we’re together”

Juliet smirked slightly at the word ‘pushy’, the harlot, but she still looked worried. I took my own risk and reached for his spare hand with both of mine.

“Jules has told me about how you met. I also know that you met the former Miss Sillitoe”

“Ah. Hannah”

“We called her Hannah-the-slut”

His eyes widened.

“Really? We, the boys that is, we had other names for her. I assume you know… I am guessing that you know Jules properly, as in of old”

I just nodded, wondering where exactly he was going with the subject.

“Well, I haven’t met any of her friends before you, apart from her boss”

“Mrs T. Yes. Formidable woman”

“Yes, she is. But employer-employee dynamics are a little different”

I looked at Jules, and she was wincing, and I was fully aware of the reason. Time to bite the bullet.

“Jules tells me you’re working this evening. How late?”

“Till seven”

“Well, this conversation is getting rather too personal for this time and place. Where would be best to grab a drink, a bite and a proper talk later this evening?”

He looked a little worried at that, but he was still thinking.

“Driving?”

I shrugged, and put the full bitch in.

“I assume Jules has no dirty stop out issues. I can use the train”

“Right. Jules… um, you okay staying at mine?”

The expression that lit her face was wonderful, and I needed no translation. His next words, though, took it to another level entirely.

“gemma, we have a spare bed, if that would work. I anticipate we might need more than a bottle of Coke each to get a handle on this one”