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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-02. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 11
 
 
I woke around 8 a.m. on Boxing Day. Weather wise, this day was everything that the previous day wasn't. Clear skies, the hint of sunrise on the eastern horizon and a touch of frost on the ground. I smiled to myself as I pulled on my tracksuit. I wondered if I had really lost my marbles. The thought of going out on a frosty cold winters morning for a run was filling me with eager anticipation? Mad, totally mad. I quietly let myself out the front door and the first lungful of cold air nearly stopped me in my tracks. I limbered up and set off at a gradual pace. I didn't run as hard as I had the previous morning, but that was probably due to a different mental attitude. I felt more at peace. I was still a little uneasy around my parents and the feeling was mutual. Although the conversation the previous evening had been a little more 'normal', I still saw the disapproving looks my father gave me.

On returning and after a lovely hot shower, I padded back to my room with my towel wrapped around me. What to wear? It was the day to face the extended family. Although part of my mind told me to go for understated, the other half was saying 'what the hell show them what you've got'. I sat on the bed for a moment to decide and then shrugged and grinned to myself. I decided on a white stretchy body top, denim skirt, black hose and my knee-length black, leather boots. The skirt wasn't the shortest I owned as it came to just above my knees. I didn't overdo the make up but I made it a little more striking than I had done so far. After brushing my hair and putting on my jewellery, I stood in front of the mirror. I smiled. Definitely sexy, but not slutty. This was me.

Claire was the only one downstairs as I entered the kitchen. She was again still in her dressing gown. She took one look at me and gave a low whistle. I obliged her with a fairly sensuous twirl. "Wow," she said, "Are you sure you want to go with this look today?"

I feigned being hurt, "Why? Do I not look good?"

Claire grinned and raised an eyebrow, "Good in the moral sense or in the hot sense?"

I batted my eyelashes, "Oh the hot sense."

She nodded, "Hot you definitely are. Good? I don't think our parents will think so."

I shrugged nonchalantly, "I know. But hey, this is the way I like to dress. And if the whole family are meeting me today, they may as well meet the real me. I certainly wanted to soften the blow for you and Mum and Dad, but the rest of them? They can take their chances."

Claire looked at me closely, "Uh huh? Well, it's your show. Don't say I didn't warn you. Expect a few requests for outfit amendments from our beloved parents. Believe me I know, I still remember my teenage days and the fights I had with them over what I wanted to wear."

I remembered them too. But that was different, Claire was a child then and I could understand my parents' concern. "Well you could help me out sis," I said.

She looked at me through narrowed eyes, "Uh oh. What do you have in mind?"

I grinned, "Make yourself look just as hot and then they can't complain so much at me. I'll just say that I'm dressing no different from you."

I didn't get the reaction I expected. I had thought that Claire would laugh, banter with me and probably agree. Instead she rolled her eyes, murmured "Sure," and turned away to make herself a cup of coffee.

I walked over to her side, "Hey, what's wrong?"

She looked at me with a rueful grin and shook her head, "You don't get it do you?"

I really didn't get it. "No, what's up?"

She softly replied, "That's just it. I look at you now and there's no way I can make myself look as 'hot' as you. I don't compare. I know you used to be my brother, but next to you now I'm just ordinary. I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe it's because this is the way you were always meant to be..."

I bit my lip. "Claire I'm so sorry, I'm an insensitive idiot. But you're wrong, there's no way you look ordinary next to me."

She gave me that look that would have been a look over her glasses if she wore glasses. It was accompanied with the cynical up twist of one side of her mouth and corresponding cocked eyebrow. It all combined to tell me she thought I should catch myself on. She said as much, "Come on Nicola. Let's not kid ourselves. I know I'm fairly attractive. I don't have a complex about myself or anything, but let's be honest here. You're downright gorgeous and you know it."

I tried to protest but she continued, "I think that's part of why Mum and Dad actually find it so hard. They find it hard to deny what you are saying as you sit in front of them looking like you do. And I'm betting I'm not the first person to tell you this, no?"

I shrugged awkwardly, "I guess."

She smiled, "Look, I'm not going to get too hung up on it so don't you either. OK?"

I grinned "OK, but I've one condition on accepting that."

I got the 'uh-oh' look again. She replied tentatively, "And what is that?"

I smiled, "After breakfast, we're going upstairs and it's time for a makeover party for Claire."

She rolled her eyes but didn't offer too many protests.
 

*          *          *
 
We managed to sneak upstairs into Claire's room just before Mum and Dad surfaced. Claire showered and washed her hair, whilst I checked out her wardrobe to see what we had to work with. When she came back into the room, I sat her down and blow dried her hair for her. I think she enjoyed it and found it relaxing. A bit of hairspray here and there too. I had brought a spare corset of mine in from my room and grinned wickedly as I held it up.

Claire squealed, "You expect me to wear that?"

I smiled, "Sure, I'm totally enhanced and non-natural, why shouldn't you be?"

She laughed and her resistance wavered, "Well OK, as long as it isn't too uncomfortable."

I giggled, "Oh come on Claire, if I've learnt anything about being a woman over these past few weeks, it's that comfort is secondary to beauty."

I slipped the corset around her and began to tighten it. After I got the slack out of it, I paused for a moment. Claire spoke, "I'm glad you're done, it's really quite restrictive isn't it?"

I giggled, "Honey, I haven't even started yet, we're only about to get going." Any protests she was going to lodge were cut off in a sharp gasp as I began to tug hard on the laces. When I was satisfied, I tied it off.

"There you go, what a figure," I complimented.

"I can hardly breathe," she complained.

"Look in the mirror at your waist and your bust," I instructed.

She did so and her complaints began to settle. She turned from one side to the next, "Damn. Look at me." She cupped her hands under her breasts, "Wow, look at what I've got. But heck, I can hardly breathe."

I shrugged, "You'll get used to it sister darling."

I had picked out a knee-length little black dress that Claire had brought with her and some matching pantyhose. Claire got dressed and then I sat her down and began to do her make up for her. Claire had tried to protest that she had been a woman for a lot longer than I had and knew how to do her own make up. I ignored her protests. When I was finished, I stepped back and was really quite pleased with my efforts.

Claire looked in the mirror, "Hey!"

"What?"

"Has the world gone crazy or something?"

"Huh?" I replied intelligently.

"First my erstwhile brother shows up as a hot babe and then 'she' proceeds to do my make up better than I can? How come?"

I laughed, "I had a good teacher. Remember Beth is a top beautician and for the last month, I've spent hours each day looking at fashions, make up, beauty techniques." I shrugged, "A good teacher, that's all."

She smiled and stood up to take in her full appearance in the mirror. I stood beside her and we looked at ourselves. Claire smiled, "We both look pretty good don't we?"

I nodded and grinned, "We certainly do."

Claire pursed her lips, "They're gonna flip when they see us aren't they?"

I nodded seriously, "Yep, they are."
 

*          *          *
 
When we went downstairs, my mother looked at us and did a double take. "Oh err morning girls," she looked at us closer, "don't you think are you just well, dressed a little too..."

Claire stifled a giggle, "A little too?"

My mother folded her arms, "You know what I mean. You're both dressed quite provocatively."

Claire and I looked at each other and then smiled at our mother. I feigned a little pout, "But Mum, we think we look nice. We wanted to get dressed up for the party."

My mother sighed and spread her hands, "Fine, fine. I can see I'm not going to get anywhere with you two. Well if you're not too busy preening and complimenting yourselves, there's plenty of work to be done in the kitchen."

The rest of the morning was duly spent helping out in the kitchen. Mum was cooking a large meat roast for lunch and there was lots of preparation to be done. I spent most of my time peeling potatoes as Claire prepared the vegetables. My father had been out for a walk down to the nearby newsagents to get the morning paper. He came back into the kitchen and nodded to us all and then, like my mother, took another look at us. He paused and then quietly said, "Nic-ola, can I have a word with you in the living room?"

I shared a quick knowing look with Claire, dried my hands and then followed my father into the living room. I felt like the proverbial little boy who had been sent to see the school headmaster. He sat down and indicated for me to do likewise. I was very careful to smooth my skirt down properly as I sat. I tried to smile at my father.

He sighed, "Right, you are going to live as a woman, that's your choice. But you are still my child, and I will still give you advice. You are an adult and what you do with my advice is up to you. Is that fair enough?" I nodded and he continued, "I can't tell you what way to dress and I can see that modesty is not one of your highest priorities."

I found my voice, "Dad! That's not fair. Tell me exactly what is wrong with the way I look and the way I am dressed. My skirt is just above my knees, hardly too short. I'm not exposing any excess bared flesh or anything."

He paused and looked like he was searching for the right words, "I know what you are saying, but well, it's just that...well I think you are dressed and looking a bit too...sexy." His nose wrinkled in distaste at having to actually say the word.

I raised my hand to my mouth to hide the smile which I knew would not be well received. I composed myself, "Dad, I hear what you are saying. But I like dressing and looking like this. It feels really nice. I enjoy being attractive. Heck I've never really experienced it in my life so far."

I could see my father was having difficulties swallowing all this. He nodded, "Well OK, but have you spared a thought for the consequences of your actions?"

I was puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"Have you thought about the effect you will have on men? The way you look will have a certain effect on them you know."

I nodded, "I know." I shrugged, "I haven't given it much thought really, but I'll be careful."

He nodded slowly. I could see that he wanted to say something more but was having difficulty starting. Suddenly I knew what it was he wanted to ask. "Just ask me Dad," I said softly.

He looked up at me and after another brief pause nodded, "Alright. I hate to ask, but...are you gay?"

This was almost the question I was expecting, but I didn't expect it to be phrased just like this. I didn't exactly know how to answer the question as he had put it. "Umm Dad, gay as in what way? Do you mean girl-girl or boy-boy?"

He looked uncomfortable even discussing such things. My father was very conservative in his outlook, "I mean 'boy-boy' as you put it."

I sighed, "Dad, for one thing, I'm not exactly a boy any more. What you are asking is am I attracted to men, yes?" He sort of grunted and nodded. I took a deep breath, and with honesty replied, "I don't know. This really isn't a central issue to what I'm doing. I don't know how I feel. I can't really say much more than that. Would you be more comfortable if I was still attracted to women given the way I look now?"

He shook his head, "Nicola! I don't know what to think. I mean my son comes home and announces he's now a woman. It's all a bit much. I can't get to grips with it all. I just hope you think it through and work out the ramifications of what you are doing."

"I'm trying to Dad, I really am."

He didn't know what to say, "Well, go on then - go back and help your mother and sister."

I was never so glad to go and peel potatoes as I was then.
 

*          *          *
 
Uncle George was the first to arrive. We heard him before we saw him. Or rather, we heard the roar of his Mercedes as he pulled into the driveway. He came in with his usual bluster, "Esther, my delightful sister, how are you?" He kissed her on the cheek and then shook Dad's hand vigorously, "Bill, great to see you, hope you're having a happy Christmas?" My Dad offered some non-committal platitude in response. Uncle George was the youngest sibling on Mum's side, being in his mid forties. He was I guess what you could call a smoothie. He was wearing a silk shirt, matching neck-tie and tailored slacks. He gave Mum his coat and then turned to us, "Ah Claire how's my favourite niece?" He cocked his head, "You're looking quite lovely today." He gave Claire a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He turned to me and obviously not recognising me, turned back to Claire, "And who is your lovely friend?"

Claire tried to keep a straight face, "Oh this isn't my friend, Uncle George meet my new sister, Nicola."

He looked puzzled for a moment but then the penny dropped, "Nicola? As in...Nick? Huh? What's going on here?" He looked a little flustered but quickly regained his composure, "Erm, no-one told me this party was fancy dress."

I smiled, "Uncle George, it's not fancy dress. I've sort of had a bit of a lifestyle change."

Uncle George always prided himself on being one of the more progressive members of our family. Dad called it liberal. "Ah, ok Nicola. Well whatever tickles your fancy." He looked closely at me again, "Well I have to say, no matter how strange this seems it does seem to suit you. I guess I have another niece." He gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek too. He turned around and clapped his hands, "Now, how about a drink for George after that long journey? Bill, I don't suppose you've got a good bottle of wine in the house? No? Ah well, just as well I brought one along myself." And he headed into the kitchen in search of a glass. That was Uncle George. He was irrepressible and as much as my parents might try to disapprove, it was impossible to dislike him. They rolled their eyes, Claire and I just chuckled.

Aunt Olivia, Dad's sister and her husband, Uncle Edward, arrived next. There were the usual greetings with my parents and then to Uncle George. They greeted Claire and as before, when attention was focussed on me, it was apparent that they didn't recognise me. "Hello dear, who are you?" asked Aunt Olivia. Uncle George didn't want to miss out on the moment, "Oh Olivia, hadn't you heard? Nick has become a Nicola." He casually sipped his wine. My aunt's eyes widened and she took a closer look at me, "Well I never." She raised a hand to her throat and looked as if she didn't know what to say.

"Huh, what was that?" asked Uncle Edward who had been talking to Dad. Olivia turned to her husband and pointed at me, "Apparently that is our nephew Nick."

"Was," I said.

"Pardon?" my aunt replied.

"Was," I repeated, "'That' was your nephew Nick. 'I' am now your niece Nicola." I was a bit peeved at being talked about as an object in the third person. I stood up, smoothed my skirt and walked over to my aunt and gave her a hug, "Nice to see you Aunt Olivia," and then walked over to Uncle Edward and stood on my tip-toes to give him a light kiss on the cheek, "Hello Uncle Edward." I turned and walked back to my seat. Aunt Olivia was frozen to the spot and Uncle Edward held his cheek where I had kissed him as if he had been slapped. He then sort of spluttered, "Bill, what on earth is going on here, is this some sort of joke?"

My father was leaning against the far wall and didn't look too thrilled at being brought into this. He shrugged and shifted awkwardly, "If it's a joke, none of us are laughing Edward. It is as you have heard."

Aunt Olivia looked at me intently, "What's got into you Nick? Why on earth are you doing this? Are you gay?" Aunt Olivia was one of those well-meaning tactless people. She didn't set out to be demeaning, she wasn't malicious, she just didn't put too much thought into what she said.

I sighed, "One - nothing has got into me, this is my choice. Two - I am doing this because I want to. Three - gay or otherwise has nothing to do with this and quite frankly if I were, again that would be my choice." I was getting a bit irked and I think my mother sensed this.

"Nicola, come and give me a hand in the kitchen for a moment please," she asked softly. I knew what she was doing and I wasn't too pleased. I wanted to stay and stand up for myself, but I knew better than to argue with her. As I was leaving the room, I heard Aunt Olivia chide my father, "You let Esther call him Nicola, haven't you tried to talk some sense into him Bill?" I bristled but continued into the kitchen aided by the gentle pressure of my mother's hand on my back.

She closed the door behind her and I blew off steam, "Who does she think she is? What gives her the right to talk to me like that?"

My mother held up a hand, "Darling, what did you expect. You know them. How did you think they would react?"

I shrugged and calmed down. "I guess you're right. I'm just a little on edge."

"I'm not getting at you, but remember you are the one who has sparked this off. You know that your father and I don't approve, you can't expect others to either. But I suggest that you try to avoid making things worse than they already are. Be civil, courteous and modest."

I nodded, "You're right again." I groaned, "How do you get to be so wise Mum?"

She couldn't resist the opportunity, "By listening to what your parents tell you."

"Touché," I murmured with a wry grin.
 

*          *          *
 
We both slipped back into the room as the last of the guests were arriving. Dad was taking the coats from Aunt Vera, Mum's older sister, Uncle Keith and Phil and Dawn my cousins. There was a lot of hand-shaking, greetings, hugs and the like. I hung back near the kitchen door suddenly feeling very self-conscious. My earlier bravado had deserted me and I cast a longing look towards the hall door and thought about making a dash for my bedroom. I think my mother noticed and gently squeezed my arm, before whispering in my ear, "Don't even think about it, you've got to go through with it now."

Inevitably, the round of greetings from the new arrivals shifted its focus to my mother and me. I swallowed and decided to make a pre-emptive strike. "Uncle Keith, Aunt Vera, Phil, Dawn," already their faces looked puzzled at the way this apparent stranger was addressing them, "I know this must be quite strange, but as you can see, I've been going through some changes in my life. I'm Nick, or rather I used to be." I shrugged, "I'm Nicola now."

"Shit!" was the subconscious response from my cousin Phil. Aunt Vera suspended her own disbelief for a moment to remonstrate with him, "Phillip, watch your language." I don't think he even heard her, his eyes were glued to me. Uncle Keith looked quite disturbed and Aunt Vera shook her head as if she didn't believe it. Dawn had a little smile on her face as she took in my appearance.

I forced a smile, "Yes it's me, honest." They continued to stare, "Umm, I think I'm going to melt if your eyes burn into me any longer." I just wanted to fade into the background. Eventually they got the message and tried not to stare any further. Well except Phil who had gone quite pale. "Phillip, stop staring," hissed Uncle Keith.

My mother cleared her throat, "If you all want to make your way into the dining room, we're ready to serve dinner. Maybe Olivia and Vera could help me?"

As we headed to the dining room, Dawn fell in beside me. She smiled, "Nicola? Is that right?"

I grinned, "Yes, afraid so."

"Oh my god, you look amazing," she whispered.

I smiled, "I'm glad someone thinks so."

"No seriously, you look beautiful. I don't know how I never saw this before, you are a natural. I can see why you've done this."

"You can?"

"Yes, this is so obviously you. I mean you were always a bit of a weed before."

"Hey Dawn!"

"Sorry, but you know I'm right."

I laughed, "I guess so." We sat down together and Claire sat down on my other side. I flashed her a 'thank-you' smile.

"When did this all happen?" asked Dawn.

I began to tell her the brief version of my transformation to date. I paused whilst my father gave thanks for the food. Mum and my aunts dished out the dinner and after a while, the stilted conversation turned into a buzz. I had no doubt that I was the topic of a few of the little chats going on around the table. I also noticed that Phil was sitting at the far side not talking to anyone. I caught his eye and smiled but he looked away quickly. I wasn't sure how to take this. Phil and I had always been really close and I had been looking forward to catching up with him. But I turned my attention back to Dawn and was so grateful to have a friendly non-confrontational almost normal conversation.

The dinner was good and I sensed that people were beginning to relax. Particularly Uncle George who was single-handedly working his way through his bottle of wine. I caught his eye and he winked at me and raised his glass to me. I smiled back at him. After dessert was finished, my mother decreed that Claire, Dawn and I should clear up and sort out the dishes. I didn't mind, but Claire and Dawn groaned. Once we were alone in the kitchen, Dawn hugged me. "What was that for?" I asked with surprise.

She shrugged, "I just guessed you could do with a hug. You looked a little down on it, when we arrived. I imagine you haven't found things easy with your parents let alone with all this crew here today."

I smiled, "Thanks. You're right. Everyone hasn't really been what you would call supportive. Well, Claire's been a good help."

"Hey now, don't drag me into this any further," Claire said, "I'm trying to appear as the good child." She winked, "I've my eye on a bigger share of the inheritance now."

I squealed and threw some soap suds at her and the beginnings of an all out war were nipped in the bud by Mum bringing some more dishes in to us, "Girls, behave now." She left again.

Dawn regarded me thoughtfully, "Your Mum seems to have accepted things."

I shrugged, "Not really. It's more reluctant resignation. And believe me, it took a lot to even get to that stage."

We chatted amiably as we cleared up and eventually after seeming like we had washed every dish in the street, let alone our house, we were done. I wasn't overly keen on going back in to face everyone, but I knew I had a few things to tell them. Predictably, as soon as we entered the room, the conversation hushed. I decided to take my opportunity.

"While everyone is here and I have your attention, I want to talk to you for a few moments." I certainly had their full attention. "I know that seeing me like this must be quite a shock to you all, but I want you to know that my decision to take this step is reasoned and well considered. I know that most of you probably don't approve and think I'm some sort of weirdo or pervert..."

"Nicola," my mother chided, "please."

I apologised, "Sorry Mum. But you know what I mean. Anyway, I do have something to tell you and a request to make of all of you." I paused, they were still with me, "I've managed to land a recording deal with Sony records and will be recording an album in the next few months. Now you can all save your praise and congratulations for later as I've more to say." I couldn't help the irony and saw Claire and Dawn grinning at me, "Yes, this deal is as my new self. My sort of stage name if you could call it that will be Cara Malone. That is the name I will be recording and performing under. Now this is where it gets tricky. Outside of this room, there are three other people in the world who know who Cara Malone really used to be." I paused and let this sink in. "So if you follow me, I am not planning on advertising Cara or Nicola's origins. This is in no way a reflection of me being ashamed of what I am doing, but it is simply the reality of pursuing my career." I took a breath, "Now I am asking you, I can only ask, that you respect my wishes and don't tell anyone about this. I can't make you or force you. I know you may not agree with what I am doing, but I am simply asking that you give me a chance to live this life my way." I looked around the room and met each person's gaze. Phil looked away again. I was finished speaking. There was silence for a few moments and then Dawn sat up and spoke.

"You can count on me, I'll not say a word," she stated. She looked around at the others as if trying to incite a response. She nodded at her father.

Uncle Keith grimaced, "I'm not planning on saying anything either, sure we won't Vera?" She nodded sharply.

Aunt Olivia spoke up, "I'm certainly not planning on telling anyone at all. But more out of consideration for Bill and Esther's reputation."

I forced myself to smile sweetly, "Thank you Aunt Olivia."

Uncle George snorted and chuckled, "What I want to know is, can I buy shares in your record company before you make it big?"

I sat down and slowly the conversation started up again in little groups around the room. After a short while, I decided to go and speak to Phil. He was sitting by himself in the corner of the room. I went over and sat beside him and simply said, "Hi."

"Uhh hi," he said shifting a little uncomfortably.

"Phil, are you OK? I mean I get the feeling you're avoiding me."

He shrugged, "I dunno. It's just that this is like weird. The way you look and all."

I nodded, "You think I look bad?"

He gave a mirthless chuckle, "Yeah that's the problem, you look bad." He shook his head, "That's not it at all. You don't look bad. That's just it."

I was lost now, "I don't follow you Phil."

He sighed, "Look I was coming here looking forward to catching up with my old cousin Nick, and here you are...looking like...this."

I nodded, "It's OK Phil. I shouldn't expect people to accept me easily. But I did sort of hope you wouldn't react like the others."

He looked at me sharply, "Hey, don't lump me with the rest of them. You've got it wrong. What you do is up to you and that's fine. None of my business. I really hope things work out for you and you make it big."

I was quite mixed up now, "Thanks."

He continued, "Look, the problem is with me, not you." He turned round to face me, "When I arrived, I came into the room and looked around. I didn't know who you were but I was wondering who the babe in the corner was." He shrugged, "And then I found out it was you."

Now I understood, "Oh."

"Yes. Oh," he replied, "and when I look at you still, I can't believe it's really my cousin Nick."

I nodded, "Well believe it's really your cousin Nicola." I held out my hand, "Hi Phil, I'm your cousin Nicola."

He looked at my hand for a moment and then shook his head and grinned to himself, "You're something else you know." He took my hand and shook it. "This doesn't mean I don't still feel weird about this though, OK?"

I chuckled, "Fine by me." We chatted a bit. Mainly I got him to tell me what he had been up to, because I didn't want to freak him out more by talking about my recent happenings.
 

*          *          *
 
When they all eventually left, I felt totally drained. As I looked at my parents, they looked much the same as I felt. My mother sighed, "I think I'll go to bed." She stood and then winced and raised her hand to her chest.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked with concern.

My mother shook her head, "Nothing. Just a bit of heartburn. Too much rich eating and a bit of stress I imagine. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure."

We all headed upstairs and when I got into my room, I found I had received a text message on my mobile. It was from Jools. It was short and to the point: "U cow! I'm dying 2 hear how u r. Phone asap." I grinned and keyed in her mobile number.

"Hello?"

"Hi Jools."

"Cara!" she gasped, "About bloody time. I've been thinking you would phone me for over a day now."

"Yeah, sorry. I've been sort of occupied."

"Well?"

I grinned, "Well what?"

"Oh," she exclaimed with frustration, "Don't leave me hanging, tell me all about it."

I told her about all that had happened since I had left. We must have been talking for almost an hour and I only realised the time when my mobile phone battery bleeped as it was getting low. I finished up with Jools and promised to keep in touch over the rest of the holiday period.
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning Mum had decided it was time to revisit the local supermarket to replenish our depleted food stocks. She asked Claire and I to come along and help. Claire reluctantly agreed. I couldn't bring myself to go and look at more food after the previous two days of heavy eating. Plus I had something I needed to talk to my father about. He was sitting in the living room reading his morning paper. I brought in two cups of coffee and offered him one.

"Erm thanks...Nic-ola."

I smiled and sat down opposite him and fidgeted a bit. He noticed. He set his paper down slowly and regarded me. "Alright, what is it?"

I absentmindedly brushed my hair back from my face, "Well Dad, I sort of need some advice." I paused.

"Go on," he urged.

"Well. It's sort of delicate. But I was thinking with you being a solicitor and all, you would know the legal side of things."

He took a sip of his coffee, "Come on, just ask me what you want. Dancing around it isn't likely to make it more palatable is it?"

I nodded and swallowed, "OK. I was wondering, how do I go about changing my name?"

He paused with his cup halfway to his mouth and slowly set it down on the arm of his chair. "Changing your name." He took a long, slow breath. "You want to legally change your name to Nicola."

I nodded. "Look Dad, I know how hard this must be for you to take. I know it seems like I'm shunning the name you and Mum gave me, but surely you understand that with where my life is going, I have to have a proper name that matches who I am. I need legal things like ID, driver's licence and a passport and all."

He sat there for a moment and then sighed and sat up. "Right. A person can legally change their name by deed poll. This is a legal document that you draw up with a solicitor and sign. It is a declaration that you are forgoing your previous name and are going to use whatever new name you specify."

I nodded, "Where does this deed poll go?"

He shrugged, "It doesn't have to go anywhere. You can submit it to the Enrolment Books of the Central Office of the Supreme Court of Deeds and a public record of your name change will be published in the London Gazette."

I screwed up my nose, "But then, how do I go about changing the likes of my driving licence and so on?"

"You need to submit your deed poll with your licence application and they will issue one in your new name."

I grimaced, "I guess the licensing authority will keep a record of that."

He nodded, "I imagine they would."

I pondered this for a few moments, "Is it possible to get your birth certificate changed?"

He considered this for a few moments and after a little hesitation answered, "No. In England and Wales you can only in the normal course of the law apply to change a child's birth certificate and only under certain circumstances."

I knew my father well and I had spotted something in the nuance of his reply. "Dad, why did you hesitate and what did you mean by 'the normal course of the law'?"

He sat there thinking for a few moments. He didn't answer my question. "Let me see if I understand you. You want to change your name and all appropriate documents. You don't want there to be any record of this. You want a new birth certificate. You don't want there to be any evidence of your change. As if Nicholas Evans never existed."

I winced at the last comment, but he was right. "Yes I guess that's about it."

He nodded slowly, and enigmatically replied, "We'll talk more about this tomorrow."

I tried to press him for an answer, but he wouldn't be drawn on it. I knew where I got my stubborn determination from.
 

*          *          *
 
After breakfast the next day that my father stood up and simply said, "Come on Nicola. Get your coat, we are going out." I didn't know where we were going, but I figured it probably had something to do with what we talked about the previous day, so I didn't ask. Mum and Claire were obviously curious. "Where are you two going?" Mum asked.

"Business to take care of," my father said in a tone which indicated that he wasn't intending to elaborate. I followed him out into the hall.

"Err Dad, I don't know where we are going, but am I dressed OK?" I was wearing my black velvet top and burgundy trousers.

He shrugged, "Not quite my choice for you if you know what I mean. But it will do fine."

"Sure know how to make a girl feel good," I murmured.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, let's go." I grabbed my black jacket.

We drove to the local newsagents where there was one of those little photo booths. My father told me to sit inside and make myself presentable for a photo.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just do it, you'll see in good time." He put the money in. I shrugged, pulled the little curtain over the doorway of the booth and got ready for the photos. I tried to relax and give a natural smile. Four quick flashes and 3 minutes of waiting later, and the strip of photos came rolling out of the slot in the side of the booth. I looked at them with interest having never seen a photo of myself as Nicola/Cara before. It wasn't too bad. These sorts of photos always looked a little unnatural though. We got back in the car and were driving in the general direction of Cardiff city centre.

"Can I ask where we are going Dad?"

He continued to look straight ahead at the road, but then after a few moments replied, "We're going to see a friend of mine who might be able to help you."

I was immediately suspicious and concerned. "What sort of friend? What is this about? I hope you're not trying to persuade me out of what I'm doing again."

I think he sensed my panic, "Relax. I'm doing this probably against my better judgement, but this is to help you do what you want to do."

"Where are we going then?" I repeated.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "We are going to the law courts."

I wasn't too reassured by his answer, but I forced myself to sit at peace and decided to hold my tongue and see what came of this. Before long, we turned onto Fitzalan Place, and drove past the courthouse. My father turned into Knox Road and found a parking place. We got out and began walking back to the courthouse.

"Dad, the place looked pretty closed to me."

"It is."

"So we're going there because?"

"There's a friend of mine there who is expecting us."

We walked up to a side door and Dad pressed the buzzer. A metallic voice spoke from the speaker, "Yes?"

"William Evans. Justice Dempsey is expecting me."

A pause. And then the door buzzed and unlocked. Dad pushed it open and I followed him in. A security guard was inside and he nodded to my father, "Mr. Evans, he's in his office." The guard looked at me for longer than was necessary and I was aware of his eyes travelling up and down my form. I resisted the urge to shiver and followed close behind my father.

My father murmured, "Ignorant grunt."

"I beg your pardon?" I whispered.

"I saw the way he was looking at you, I've a good mind to go back and give him what for."

"Dad, please don't"

"I won't, but he better behave better when we are leaving."

We went up two flights of stairs and along a wood-panelled corridor until we came to a door with a brass nameplate on it declaring that this was the office of the Justice Dempsey we were apparently coming to see. My father knocked and a gruff voice called out, "Come in." We went in. The office was spacious and carpeted with a plush red pile. An old undoubtedly antique mahogany desk was set in front of the windows and a balding man with glasses in smart casual clothes was sitting behind it. When we entered, he stood up and greeted my father without smiling, "Bill, I'd say it was good to see you, but you better have a damn good reason for dragging me in here on my holidays."

"Richard, you know I wouldn't do it if it wasn't important," my father replied.

Justice Dempsey noticed me. "Who's this?" he asked brusquely, "Your daughter?"

My father gave a thin-lipped smile and didn't quite answer his question, "This is the reason why I am coming to you today."

"Hmm. Well have a seat. Daughter got into trouble or something and you need help?"

We sat down. I was quite intimidated and was happy to let my father do the talking. "Something like that," he replied, "Except this isn't my daughter...it's my son."

"What the hell?" spluttered Justice Dempsey. He looked at me closely, and then fixed my father in his gaze, "Is this some sort of joke which I'm not getting and not finding funny? I may be near retirement, but my mind and eyesight are still sharp enough to tell me that this young woman looks nothing like anything that could be called your son."

My father hesitated and I decided to speak for the first time. I wasn't sure what my father was doing, but decided to trust him. "Thank you sir," I said softly, "but what he has told you is true. I used to be his son."

He looked at me and blinked several times. He rubbed his forehead and then set his palms on his desk and faced my father again. In a softer tone he continued, "Alright Bill. What's going on and why are you here?"

My father nodded, "This is...or was my son Nick. He...I mean she...is adamant that he... she is going to live as a woman. Understandably I have tried to talk some sense and make hi..her see sense. To no avail."

"Damn!" Dempsey sympathised with my father.

"I know," my father agreed, "But the upshot is, she is as stubborn as her father and refuses to see reason." I felt my blood beginning to boil and it was all I could do to sit there and keep silent. But something told me that an outburst here was not going to be helpful no matter what was going on. My father continued, "As you can understand, this has the potential to cause our family and myself professionally a large degree of embarrassment."

Justice Dempsey interjected, "And you want me to put her away for good?"

My eyes boggled and when he saw my expression, he laughed heartily, "Had you worried there young woman....man....whatever." He waved a hand at my father, "Go on Bill."

"Well. 'Nick' wants to become 'Nicola'. Obviously a deed poll and change of major identification documents will leave a paper trail. And the birth certificate will still state the male identity."

Dempsey narrowed his eyes, "You realise Bill that under law, there is no legal provision for alteration of birth certificates."

My father sighed, "Come on Richard, how long have we known each other? Thirty years? Don't treat me like an apprentice. You know I know the law. And you also know that I know the provisions under the Ministry of Defence Protection Act of 1993."

Justice Dempsey paused and took a deep breath. He removed his glasses. "Bill, are you asking what I think you are asking?"

My father looked him straight in the eye, "Yes Richard. I need your help. You know it can be done. You can do it."

"Yes but should I do it?"

"Why not? What I am asking is not for you to do anything illegal, you know I wouldn't do that. It is well within your purview and discretion to make judgements on such matters as these."

I really was having a hard time following the discussion. I had a vague inkling as to what was going on, but wasn't really sure. We all sat in silence for a few moments as Dempsey cleaned his glasses with a cloth. He sighed and put his glasses on again, "You did help me out with Brian that time."

My father raised a hand, "Richard, I'm not here to bargain or put you under pressure. I'm not coming saying this is quid pro quo. I'm making a request. The decision is yours."

He nodded, "I appreciate that. And it's not as if you are going to make this a regular habit. Alright Bill. I'll do it." He looked me, "Young...lady...I guess I'll have to address you as that. Young lady, what do you wish your name to be?"

I cleared my throat, "Err, Nicola Jane Evans."

He nodded and wrote this down, "And what was your full name?"

"Nicholas James Evans."

"And what is your National Insurance number and date of birth and place of birth?"

I bit my lip but them remembered something. I fished in my handbag, pulled out my purse and found the card, "FN 75 45 36 C, my date of birth is 17 September 1979 and I was born in Pembroke."

He wrote this down and nodded. "Now 'Nicola', do you have your driving licence with you? I need it please. And I presume you have some photographs of your...new self?"

I looked at my father with puzzlement, but he nodded. I pulled out Nick's driving licence from my bag and gave it to him along with the strip of photos. He set them down with the piece of paper he had been taking notes on. "OK. Bill, I'll process this through the usual channels. Now today's Friday, I imagine it will be Tuesday before the documents will be ready. Deliver to your house?" My father nodded.

Dempsey grinned, "Now how about you get the hell out of here so I can get out of here soon and get back to my holidays?"

My father stood and I did likewise. The two men shook hands, "Richard, thank you so much."

"Well, I guess things are hard enough for you with what's going on. I'd be gutted if one of my boys starting pansying about like this..."

My father shrugged, "Well, got to roll with the punches."

Once we were outside the door my patience broke. "How could you let him talk about me like that and what was that all about the embarrassment to you and the family? Is that what you think of me? And I thought you were trying to help me and all you are doing is thinking of covering your own backside!" I stormed off down the empty corridor and bit my lip hard to try to prevent the tears from welling up.

"Nicola, wait!" my father called. I walked on. I heard him running from behind. He put a hand on my shoulder, "Would you stop and listen for heavens sake." I stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Don't you realise what just took place in there?" he asked.

I slowly turned round, "I'm not sure."

He sighed, "I've just stepped outside the bounds of professionalism to help you. Way against my better judgement. I told you there was no way to get a birth certificate changed through standard channels..."

Just then, a door opened and a man walked into the corridor heading towards us. My father took my arm, and whispered, "Come on, let's go and we can talk in the car." We headed down the stairs and back to the door we had entered by. The same guard was there and he gave a little smile when he saw us coming. His eyes were all over me again. My father paused and in a low voice growled, "Take your eyes off my daughter." The young man gulped and stuttered, "S-sorry sir." He pressed the release for the door and we headed out.

When we got into the car we sat there. My father turned to me, "I'm sorry for the things I said in there. I didn't mean them, but it was the only way to do it. I had to convince Richard to help us for my sake. He would have no compulsion to help you unless he thought he was helping me." He paused and took a deep breath, "I don't agree with what you are doing, but I want you to know I am not ashamed of a child of mine. This was for your benefit."

I looked at him with uncertainty, "What did happen in there then Dad?"

"There are certain times when people need a change of identity. This is required discreetly and without any public record. There is provision for specified members of the bench to grant such a change if the case presented to them merits it. Richard Dempsey happens to be one of those. He also happens to be an old colleague and friend of mine."

"How do you know about this Dad?"

He paused, "That's not something we need to discuss."

"So what happens now?"

"You will be issued with a new birth certificate, driving licence, passport and National Insurance number card. Your records will be changed on the Driver Licensing central records and with the records of the passport agency and inland revenue."

My mouth dropped open, "They can do that?"

My father looked at me sternly, "You do not tell anyone about this. You do not talk about this. You do not tell your mother or your sister. Do you understand?"

I nodded. I was flabbergasted. He went on, "I am doing this for you to protect you, but there are some things that cannot be changed by this process."

"Umm what like?"

"As wide ranging as the powers of this act might seem, they cannot change for example your school records. But that is hardly necessary I would think. What you will have should be sufficient."

I pondered, "Maybe. Maybe not."

He looked closely at me, "What are you thinking?"

"Umm nothing really. Thanks Dad. I really appreciate what you have done. Sorry for going off at you."

He shrugged, "Richard's a right wing jerk." I laughed. I'd rarely heard my father talk like that and for him to say that was quite something. He started the car and we drove home. My father again immediately deflected the barrage of questions from my Mum and Claire and said that we had gone for a drive and talked. When Claire tried to pump me for information later, I refused to go into details. She seemed hurt, but she would survive.

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