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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 not migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf. This story segment first appeared on BigCloset Classic on Sunday, November 02, 2003 - 02:48 pm. 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 36
 
 
For the few weeks following our American trip, I tried to keep myself as busy as possible. Simon had eventually persuaded 'The Powers That Be' at Sony to delay the album production run so we could add another song to it. He squeezed us into the studio for a short session as soon as he could wangle it. The recording of 'Forgotten How to Love' went smoothly and was uneventful. The rest of the band was very impressed with the song and I was aware that Jon probably understood its origin. Thankfully, he did not say anything specifically about that to me. I still felt slightly awkward around him, but as the days went by, that began to gradually ease. I don't mean to say that my feelings just disappeared, but I tried to bury them and get on with my life. Easier said than done, I know.

With the album definitely completed, the production and promotional bandwagon was gearing up for a big push. Simon was planning to release the album on the 1st September. It was going to be a dual-pronged approach as he hoped to release 'Forgotten How to Love' as a single on the same day. That meant that another video was required, which of course meant Herby. We met up at Sony.

"Cara, darling, how are you?" he enthused as he embraced me vigorously.

I laughed. "I'm fine, Herby. How are you?"

"All the better for seeing you, my dear. Now, to business: this song of yours — I love it. It made me cry and I want every viewer who sees your video to do likewise."

He paused and I felt that I was supposed to respond. "Sounds good to me. What did you have in mind?"

He grinned. "Ah, that's the problem. I'm not really sure where to go with it yet. I was wondering if you could help me."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked warily.

He smiled expansively. "Since you were so wonderfully inspiring to me for the last video when you told me more about the events surrounding the song, I was thinking that if you told me something similar this time, I could come up with a killer visual spectacle to accompany the song. It really is a fantastically emotional piece."

I chewed my lip as I thought about what he'd said. I had no doubt that if I told him about the events that had led to me writing the song, and if we managed somehow to capture such on video — we would have a 'killer visual spectacle'. I was pretty sure that it could induce tears in most viewers. I began to feel the all too familiar burning sensation in my eyes and I blinked hard.

"I'm sorry, Herby, but I don't think I can really help you here." I shrugged. "It was just one of those songs that popped out for no reason."

He looked at me closely and I was sure that he didn't believe me, but I was not going to rip open my heart again just to come up with a good video. He was the professional; I was not planning to do his job for him.

He nodded slowly and then smiled. "Alright, I'll have to get my thinking cap on. Rest assured, sweetness, Herby will come through for you again."

I smiled warmly. "I'm counting on it."
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning, after my traditional run with Kate, I came back in to find Simon, Jools and Rachel discussing something intently in Jools' office. Rachel had been keen to get a summer job in London and Jools, being her usual enterprising self, had come up with the idea of Rachel helping her with administrative duties and sorting through my fan mail. There was still an inordinate amount of the stuff arriving each day. Rachel had jumped at the opportunity and it was probably going to work out well in the longer term. She had received the offer of a place to study at the London School of Economics and, since she was going to be an impoverished student, the income from such a flexible part-time job would be most welcome.

I didn't think they had heard me come in and I lingered outside the office trying to overhear what they were saying.

"I think we have to tell her," Simon maintained firmly.

Jools shook her head. "I don't know," she replied, "What good will it do? I mean it is probably nothing."

Rachel was sitting between them and watching the exchange, but saying nothing.

I breezed in and smiled. "Hi folks. So what is it you think you should or should not tell me?"

I had presumed that they were talking about me and from the looks on their faces, I could see that I had presumed correctly.

Jools was the first to recover. "Hi Cara, we're just talking about some business details. I'm not sure that you need to bother yourself with them."

I knew she was lying, or at least, bluffing. I looked closely at her. "Come on, Jools. I'm not a child. There's something going on here and if it's about me, I think I have a right to know. If it's boring, well then go ahead and bore me. I'll tell you to stop before too long."

Jools looked at Simon and then back to me. She sighed. "OK, come over here and sit down." I did as requested and she continued, "It's probably nothing, but if you want to know about it, that's up to you." She paused, "You know you get a load of fan mail sent to you?" I nodded and she went on, "Well Rachel usually sorts through it and bins the wacky, distasteful stuff… but there were some pieces that arrived over the last few weeks that were… a bit different."

"Different, how so?" I asked.

Jools looked uncomfortable. "It's probably nothing, just some crank messing about…"

"Let me see them," I said feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure that is really necessary…" Jools broke off when she saw the determined look on my face. "Alright, but remember it's probably nothing."

She nodded to Rachel who pulled out three clear plastic envelopes that contained a single sheet of white paper in each. Rachel slid them across the table to me with a sympathetic smile. I pulled them closer and looked at them in turn. In the centre of each page there were a few words of typescript:

'You're going to get yours, bitch!'

'I'm going to enjoy doing you, bitch!'

'I'll teach you what it's like to take a real man, bitch!'

I shuddered after reading them and quickly pushed them away. "Why would anyone send this to me?" I asked in a shaky voice.

Simon shrugged and in a sympathetic tone said, "It's fairly common for those in the public eye to attract a degree of… unwanted attention."

Jools put a hand on my arm. "I know it's disturbing, Cara, but it is probably just some weirdo who gets his kicks out of sending out this rubbish. I bet he sends the same to dozens of people."

I closed my eyes and bit my lip. "When did they arrive?"

Jools looked to Rachel who spoke up. "The first one arrived just after we came back from America and the others arrived at one week intervals."

Simon spoke up again, "Now don't take this the wrong way, but I think we should show these to the police."

"The police?" I exclaimed as I looked up him, "I thought you said this was fairly common stuff?"

Simon held up a hand. "I know and I do think it is most likely nothing to be worried about. However, I think it would be prudent to have this on record with the police… just in case."

Jools glowered at Simon. "Do you really think it is necessary?"

He shrugged. "I hope not, but don't you think it is better to be safe than sorry?"

They stared at each other for a moment as if neither was prepared to break the deadlock. Jools sighed and looked away as she nodded.

"OK, you're probably right. I'll give them a call."

Simon smiled. "I think it is for the best. They are going to want your fingerprints and Rachel's too."

Rachel looked puzzled. "Why?"

Jools replied for Simon, "We've both touched them. They will want to check the paper for other prints, so they need to be able to exclude ours."

I really was quite disturbed by the morning's revelations and I did not feel much better after the police had left later that afternoon. They had been polite and sympathetic as they questioned Jools and me. Had I any enemies? Could I think of anyone who might want to threaten me? Although part of me did not want to bring it up, I had to mention Noel. I did not talk about the attempted rape. I had simply told them that he had left the band under less than amicable circumstances. I had horrible visions of them kicking in his door and ransacking his place, but they had assured me that they would be discreet in their investigations. Before they left, they had tried to reassure me that there was probably nothing to worry about. There was that word again: 'probably'.

Jools and I talked it over that evening.

"Do you think it could be Noel?" I asked.

She shrugged. "It could be. I mean, he's probably fairly pissed with you. The little prick could stoop this low, but if it's Noel, in a way that's reassuring."

"What do you mean?"

"He's just trying to get his own back at you in his own way. He doesn't dare do anything else or he thinks we'll slap an attempted rape accusation against him. So it won't come to anything more than this."

I nodded slowly. "I guess." Then another thought struck me, "What if it's the person with the yearbook?"

"Huh?"

"You know, the yearbook from school. The person who broke in to steal it."

Jools thought about this for a moment. "I don't know, Cara. I'm not really sure what's going on in that regard. Listen, let's try and forget about this. Perhaps there will be no more notes."

I hoped that she was right, but I had a bad feeling inside me about this. I made her promise that she would show me any future notes immediately.
 

*          *          *
 
It was the last week in August and Simon had me in the middle of another tedious round of promotional slots for the single and album, which were being released the following week. The single had been forwarded to the radio stations on pre-release and was attracting some favourable attention it seemed. We had to break off the promotional bandwagon to record the video. I was glad. Relatively speaking, I would rather do the video than talk to another puerile D.J. who would make innuendoes and look me up and down as if I were an item on the menu. OK, so I was generalising and had come across a few poor examples in the previous week, but that's the way I felt.

Herby had wanted to record on a deserted beach and had asked for my thoughts for a suggested location. Jools had suggested the Devon coast, but I overruled her. Saundersfoot beach, in my opinion, is one of the loveliest locations there is. It was a beautiful sandy beach on the south coast of Wales with high cliffs rising behind it. I had spent many happy childhood summer days there with my parents.

When we arrived, I allowed the current vision of the present to mingle with the memories in my mind and I was almost overcome. I remembered jumping in the waves with my mother, building sandcastles with Dad, and Claire and I throwing buckets of water over each other. There is something about the innocence of childhood happiness that is forever lost when you grow up. Though you might seek to grasp something of those idyllic days, they are always out of reach and you are left with only a wistful nostalgia.

The beach was deserted, save for the trailers that Herby's entourage required. The local council had eventually granted permission for the beach to be closed, but only for one afternoon. We had only one shot at this, as Herby reminded us. Time was running out as Herby had hoped to have the video shot the previous week. As it was, the single was being released in six days time and he had to get the video recorded, edited and ready for release in near record time.

Herby gave us his by-now familiar pre-game talk. Most of the video would consist of me walking along the shore with the waves lapping over my feet. Herby wanted an almost ethereal appearance. Some of that he would achieve with the post-production editing. The rest would be courtesy of my appearance and performance. The guys were somewhat nonplussed when Herby revealed his idea for them: they were to be standing nonchalantly playing their instruments — in the sea. I could not help but laugh. They were to wear their ordinary clothes and literally stand in a foot of water playing as I walked along the shore. Once the guys made sure that it would not be their own instruments actually getting wet, they reluctantly agreed.

I went to the trailer designated for me and began to get ready. A long flowing white dress was waiting for me. The top consisted of a lowish cut bodice that descended into swirls of flowing white cotton. It was different, but not unattractive. Gina was there again to help me. The make-up was also different. Gina insisted on using a coppery foundation. I thought it made me look awful, but she assured me that for what Herby was planning, it would look fine in the end. My hair was to hang freely around my shoulders.

The shooting was simple enough. A lot of it was, as Herby had said, me walking along the shore with the waves lapping over my bare feet as I sang. I was to walk past the guys on several occasions, but I was not to look at them or acknowledge their presence. It was hard not to laugh, as when I saw them standing playing, they looked utterly miserable. Herby was pleased though; miserable was just the look he wanted from them. There were also some shots of me running along the beach with my hair flapping wildly about my face.

Just when it seemed that we were almost finished, Herby called me over.

"Cara, my darling, we are nearly there. However, there is something that I have not told you."

"Oh dear."

He laughed and patted my arm. "A video for such a song as this would be incomplete, particularly given the last verse and chorus without something else…"

I worked out where he was heading. "You mean it needs a love interest."

Herby smiled. "I'm glad you agree." I did not recall agreeing particularly, but it did not stop him, "It just so happens that I have a hunk waiting in one of the trailers for this occasion."

"A trailer? Herby, really — I think it would be a low class end to my video to have me jumping into a seedy trailer to hook up with my lover."

He looked aghast. "My dear, oh no, that is not what I intended at all…" My hand went to my mouth to cover my smile and he twigged. "Oh, you are a naughty girl. For a moment there… never mind. No, not at all, what I want is for you to do the cheesy expected thing… to run into his arms as the sun sets. I know it is stereotypical, but quite often, stereotypes work."

I looked at him sideways. "Just tell me the hunk isn't Nigel from the last video shoot."

He laughed. "Definitely not. Come; let's go meet him. I think you'll like him — he's gorgeous."

He introduced me to Gary who pretty much met the definition of hunk. He was tall, blond and well built. Unlike Nigel, he was polite and very considerate to me. He was a model who was happy to take on any work available to make ends meet. After allowing us a few moments to chat, Herby called to everyone to get ready.

We then did shot after shot of us running down the beach towards each other and him taking me in his arms and kissing me. Kissing me passionately let me say.

After one of the takes, I got my breath back and said, "You're a good actor."

Gary laughed. "Not really. What's to act? Herby wants me to hold and kiss a pretty woman? I've had a lot worse jobs." He winked.

I grinned and felt myself blush. It felt nice to be appreciated and I realised that my self-worth had taken a hit over the previous few weeks. I inwardly shrugged and decided to relax and really enjoy the next take. Both Gary and I gave it our all and Herby was delighted. The guys in the band were delighted too as they were finally able to get out of the water and stay out. Although it was late summer, the water was not exactly warm. Poor things.

We all said our goodbyes and Herby arranged for us to meet on Friday at Sony to view the finished product. He intimated that he was going to be working round the clock to get it ready. I think that was more for Simon's benefit though and to prepare him for the hefty bill that Herby would be sending.

On the long drive back to London, Jools and I chatted over the day's events.

"So what was it like to kiss Gary?" she asked.

I laughed. "It wasn't unpleasant."

"Oh come on, you looked like you were really enjoying it."

I thought for a moment and then smiled. "I was. It was nice. I felt appreciated. He liked me, I think."

"You think?" Jools said with a laugh. "Why do you think Herby left such a gap between each of those final takes? It was so poor Gary could let the bulge in his shorts subside."

"Jools!" I said with shock, "You're terrible."

She cackled. "I know, but you're smiling about it aren't you? Don't tell me you hadn't noticed."

She was right, I had noticed. The effect on me was strangely pleasing. That I could be so appealing to such a handsome man was something I was quite proud of.

"You know, someone else didn't look too happy…" she said slyly.

"Really? Who?" I said in a slightly sardonic tone knowing rightly where she was heading.

"Jon."

I shrugged. "If you had to stand with your feet in freezing water all afternoon, would you look happy?"

She shook her head. "More than that." She paused, "I don't want to go over old ground, but I really think he does care for you."

"Jools, this isn't helpful you know."

She sighed. "I know, but wouldn't you think about giving him a second chance?"

I frowned and looked over at her. "A second chance? You're making it sound like I was the one who threw away the first chance." I sat in silence for a moment before continuing in a quiet voice. "Jools, you don't know what it felt like. I think I would have given everything to have him accept me and love me. That sounds pathetic, but I really do… did love him."

"Did? Past tense?" she enquired gently.

I shrugged. "I don't know. It has to be past tense. If not, there's not much future tense coming my way as I see it. I need to get over this and get on with things. Can't you see that?"
 

*          *          *
 
The video was another Herby masterpiece. Whatever he had done to it after shooting made it look magnificent: it had that faded sepia tint to it. Gina had been right: my make up looked perfect in that light. There was also the occasional flicker and black spot on the film as if it had been shot with an old-style ciné camera. The overall effect reminded me of the nostalgia that I had initially felt when standing on Saundersfoot beach. The scenes with Gary fitted in well with the emotional climax to the song. At the end, we applauded the master once more.

He was as magnanimous as ever. "Now, now — I can only take what I am given and work with it. When it is as lovely as my dear Cara, my job is easy."

The next week was busier than ever. Every day there was a signing session in one city or another. Lines and lines of people queued to have me sign 'Forgotten How to Love' and the album, 'No Half Measures'. I tried to be as cheerful as I could, but as the days wore on, it took more and more effort. On Friday, I arrived at the Virgin Megastore on Oxford Street in London and was almost mobbed by the crowd waiting outside. It was a frightening experience and I was extremely relieved when I made it inside the relative sanctuary of the shop. Simon was in top form all week as he travelled about with me. I think he had high hopes for both the single and the album. I hoped that we would not be disappointed.

We weren't.

On Sunday, Jools and I settled down to listen to 'The Chart Show'. We had a long time to wait, but it was worth it. 'Forgotten How to Love' was the highest new entry of the week at number three. We were jubilant and Jools was sure that we were going to hit the top with this one. I wondered if she and Simon had actually made a bet about it, but she wouldn't admit to it. The album chart was also favourable as 'No Half Measures' débuted at number eight. Simon, when he phoned, was over the moon. All our moods were improved even further on Monday when 'Top of the Pops' confirmed that they would be playing the new video the following Friday.
 

*          *          *
 
Before Friday, I had another hurdle to overcome. I had received my appointment to see the psychiatrist in the post. Wednesday was the day and when it came, I was filled with dread. I dressed conservatively in a long white and red floral print dress with a navy linen jacket.

After a short wait, I was called into the doctor's office. She introduced herself as Dr. Sharon Cunningham. She did not have to be very perceptive to see that I was quite nervous.

"Nicola, don't be anxious. There's nothing to be worried about. I promise I'm not going to bite you." Her blue eyes twinkled.

I laughed and tried to relax. "Sorry, I'm a little keyed up."

"I have Dr. Carson's referral here and I have to say, I find it hard to believe what I'm looking at."

I wasn't quite sure how to take that and tentatively asked, "What do you mean?"

She smiled. "I mean it as a compliment. I would never have guessed to look at you… or to listen to you sing."

I flinched a little. "You recognise me?"

She nodded. "Yes, but don't worry. I know who you are, but as you are aware, your session with me is completely confidential. I won't even keep any notes that could be linked to you."

"Thanks," I murmured gratefully.

The interview was not like I had expected. I suppose I had been geared up for another inquisition like the previous one, but this was nothing of the sort. She covered a lot of similar ground, but was more interested in how I felt within myself than the actual facts of any situation. She covered the family background and, where Dr. Henwick had been confrontational, she was kind and sensitive. I found it easy to open up to her and shared my grief over losing my mother. I was frank about the rift between my father and me. When we got to the part where she asked about relationships, I even told her about Jon and what had happened in America.

"How do you feel about him now?" she asked gently.

I sighed. "I still care for him."

"Do you think there is any possibility that things may change between you?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"How does that make you feel?"

I shrugged. "I don't know… sad… disappointed…" I forced a smile, "It makes me feel like crying even now."

She nodded and smiled. "It's only to be expected. Things are still very fresh in your mind. It will take time. Now I know it is probably too soon to say, but do you envisage having a relationship with someone else?"

I thought about this before replying. "I don't know, I mean… I think I would like to." I closed my eyes and tried to sort out my thoughts. "I liked the way it felt just being with him… having someone close to me… holding me and… well, you know, kissing me. The intimacy was something I've not had for a long time. I miss it."

She asked about my troubles, my worries, how I was eating, sleeping and a lot of other things. I was happy to talk freely with her and when she was finished and I left, I felt as if some weights had been removed from my shoulders. It was a world apart from how I had felt after seeing Dr. Henwick.
 

*          *          *
 
My video was indeed shown on ‘Top of the Pops’ that Friday and the presenters were very complimentary about it and the song. I was becoming more comfortable with watching myself on TV, but the teasing from fellow watchers never abated. Claire had arrived with us to stay for the weekend and was mercilessly ribbing me about the kissing scenes with Gary.

"You're just jealous," I retorted.

"Too right I am," she admitted freely. "I can't remember the last time I had a kiss like that. Can you, Jools?"

"I don't think I ever had a kiss like that," Jools said with a grin.

Claire sighed. "I can't believe this. It's so unfair. My sister is getting all the good guys."

"Not the one I want, though." I mused. When I saw the solemn looks I was receiving from Claire and Jools, I realised that I had spoken out loud. "Umm, I don't think I meant that to come out."

Jools tactfully got up and stretched. "I think I'll take an early night and let you two sisters catch up." She gave me a meaningful look and left the room.

Claire sat on the sofa beside me and asked, "What was that all about?"

I shrugged. "It's a long story."

"I've got all weekend to hear it."

"It won't take that long."

"Well get on with it then and stop stalling."

I told her about the trip that Jon and I had taken. I told it like it had happened and had her laughing with me until I got to the bit where things fell apart. Correspondingly, I also fell apart again. Claire held me tightly and we both sat there for a long time. When I looked up, I saw that her eyes were red too.

"Oh Nicola," she said softly, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I mean I knew you liked him… I'm sorry."

I blew my nose and forced a smile. "What's done is done. Water under the bridge. Time to move on and all that."

"Is that how you feel?" Claire asked.

I shook my head and felt the tears begin again. I got to my feet and pounded a fist into my other hand. "Damn, damn, damn! This has to stop. Look at me! I'm acting like a stupid schoolgirl who has a silly little crush. It's pathetic and I hate it."

Claire shook her head. "This isn't a schoolgirl crush, Nicola. Don't be so hard on yourself."

I sighed. "It's been a month now and I'm still breaking up inside about it."

"Look, you admit you loved him — well you don't get over that in an instant. I can't say anything that will make you feel better. It's just going to take time."

"I know, but I just wish I could fast forward the clock until I felt better."

"We all feel like that sometimes."

Her words hung in the air between us and I knew we were both thinking about our mother.

"Come on, let's go to bed," Claire urged. "How're you sleeping these days?"

"Don't ask!"
 

*          *          *
 
Claire and I had tried to go shopping on Saturday, but we had eventually given up. Everywhere we went, people were pointing at me and whispering to each other. That would have been acceptable, but when others came up to me and stopped me to ask if I was Cara Malone and then proceeded to almost have hysterics as they told me how much they loved my music — it was a bit much. The pictures of me plastered over the Tube, advertising the single and album, didn't exactly help. So much for the fantastic disguise of sunglasses. Overrated I had decided.

On Sunday evening, if anyone had seen the three of us, Jools, Claire and me, they could reasonably have concluded that we were crazy or drunk. We were neither. We were bouncing up and down on the sofa and screaming at the top of our voices. In the background, the radio was playing 'Forgotten How to Love'. It was the last song that was going to play in that show as it just happened to be the new Number One.

"I can't believe it," I gasped breathlessly. "We're at Number One."

We were trying to calm down, but it was not easy. Claire proposed a nice relaxing cup of tea to bring us back to earth and as we were sitting at the table drinking, the doorbell rang. Jools went to answer it and a few moments later, Jon bounced into the room.

He loped over to me and grinned. I got up and smiled tentatively. His face broke into a massive grin. "You did it!" he said.

"We did it," I emphasised.

He held out his arms and gave me a gentle hug. I reciprocated and was shocked by how good it felt to have his arms around me. I broke the hug a little awkwardly and grinned shyly. "Err, want a cuppa?"

"Sure," he replied.

It wasn't long before we had to fill the kettle again as a steady stream of new arrivals soon filled the room. Brian and Laura, Peter and Rachel, Kevin, Simon — everyone was in high spirits. Jools decided that it was time to celebrate with something stronger than tea. She brought out a chilled bottle of champagne that she said she had been keeping for this very occasion. This met with approval all round. Claire was a little miffed as she could only afford to have one glass before she had to leave for the drive back to Bristol. She had an early start at work the next morning. Thankfully, Jools had stored up more than one bottle, as it wasn't long before she was doing a round of refills. It was nothing like the night at the Malibu Beach Inn, but I knew I was drinking more than I should have. This time it was different though: it was not a morose drowning of sorrows; it was a celebration with friends.
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning I was first up. I felt fuzzy headed and my stomach did not seem to be quite in the right place. The thought of breakfast made my stomach scurry to the furthest recesses of my inner being. There it hid and whimpered until I promised not to inflict food on it.

When I entered the kitchen, I saw the last bottle of champagne sitting on the counter. There were four empty bottles in the bin. My head throbbed and I got a glass down to fill with water. I looked again at the last bottle sitting on the counter. There was not much left in it. It should have been the last thing I thought of, but I found myself lifting the bottle and pouring the remnants into my glass. I told myself that it would be a shame to waste it. As I drank it, my stomach initially recoiled, but settled fairly quickly. I even felt a little better and my head was not complaining as much. I dropped the bottle into the bin and turned to put the kettle on.

"Morning," said a sleepy voice from behind me.

I jumped a little as I turned. "Jools, I didn't hear you get up."

She gave me a grin. "I'm not moving the fastest this morning. Can't think why. You making coffee?"

I nodded. She looked at the bin and frowned. She asked, "Wasn't there some champers left over?"

I turned and looked back at her. "Err, I don't think so. Didn't we drink it all last night?"

Jools shrugged her shoulders and yawned. "We must have." She sat down at the table. "So, how come you are already up?"

"I've an appointment to see Dr. Carson this morning."

Jools raised an eyebrow. "Ah… the reports from your psychologist and psychiatrist."

I nodded and grimaced. "The latter doesn't really bother me, but the former…" I scowled and left the rest unsaid.
 

*          *          *
 
Dr. Carson had sensitively agreed to call me on my mobile when she was ready to see me. I was sitting in my car outside her building and, on receiving the call I made my way to the back entrance where she was waiting to escort me into her consulting room.

"We can't have the chart topping superstar sitting in the waiting area, can we?" she asked with a grin.

I laughed. "Please don't think that I have a real opinion of myself or anything, it's just that I don't want people to see me coming here and try to put two and two together…"

She put a gentle hand on my arm. "I was only teasing. I agree completely with you. Discretion is more important than ever. So, tell me: how did you get on with your appointments?"

"Well, Dr. Cunningham was lovely and I actually enjoyed chatting to her…"

Dr. Carson smiled. "I think I sense a 'but' coming here?"

I nodded and grimaced. "I'm sorry, but Dr. Henwick was quite a witch if you ask me. I've no idea what she said in her report. In my defence, she did nothing but bait me and confront me. It was awful."

Dr. Carson nodded sympathetically. "That is her style. Let me reassure you though that the report she sent me told me about a well-adjusted young woman who was coping admirably with numerous difficulties in her transition. In her opinion, there was no doubt that the young woman was making the right choices."

I blinked several times and I'm sure the disbelief was all too evident on my face. "She said that?"

"Yes, word for word." Dr. Carson spread her hands on her desk. "I'm sorry, perhaps I should have warned you about her approach, but to do that would have lessened its impact. That is how she gets to the heart of things and makes her assessment. Whereas Sharon, Dr. Cunningham, takes an entirely different approach. I think that they complement each other well, though."

From this standpoint, I had to agree, although part of me found it hard to let go. "So you mean that she puts on this act to deliberately go at people?"

Dr. Carson laughed. "Yes, she really is a gentle person if you meet her outside of the work context."

I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, what did Dr. Cunningham say about me?"

Dr. Carson looked down at the reports on her desk, "Much the same. She had no hesitation to recommend that you be allowed to continue with your transition."

I frowned a little. "Was there a possibility that I wouldn't be… allowed to continue?"

Dr. Carson gave a little shrug. "Only theoretically. Good practice demands that these assessments be performed in order to guide the prescribing physician and confirm that the right course is being taken. Personally, I had no doubt as to the end result. I mean, look at you — who in their right mind would think that you are not a woman?"

One person came to my mind and I gave a little snort.

Dr. Carson picked up on this. "What were you going to say?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, just some personal issues."

I sat there and looked at her smiling patiently back at me. I sighed and reluctantly said, "You're going to want me to talk about it aren't you?"

So it was that I had to rehearse the whole sorry Yosemite tale. This time, to my credit, I completed the story without the shedding of a single tear. It was getting easier to think about it from a more objective standpoint.

"I think he's a fool," Dr. Carson said strongly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that a medical opinion?"

She laughed and waved a hand. "I don't know, but it's certainly a woman's opinion. Whilst I can understand something of his difficulties, I don't think he is seeing the bigger picture."

I shrugged. "Well I'm not going to be painting it for him any more. I think I need to move on."

Dr. Carson nodded and then hesitated before speaking. "Dr. Cunningham did raise a little concern that she thought you were exhibiting some mild features of depression. I'm sure it's only natural given what you have been through recently. I read in Dr. Henwick's report about the… assault you suffered. Add that to your mother's death and the thing with Jon… I can quite understand how you might feel a bit low."

I winced and nodded. "I'm OK, really. Yes, I'm not quite on top of the world and yes I'm not sleeping as well as I have done. I feel bad to complain though, I mean, professionally I'm achieving all I ever wanted."

"It's not enough, though, is it?" she asked softly.

I smiled and mulled that over. "No, it's not."

"Are you feeling alright today, Nicola? You look a bit peaky."

I smiled with embarrassment. "Well, we had a little celebration last night when we realised we had hit Number One. I may have had a few too many glasses of champagne."

Dr. Carson smiled and nodded. "I hate to ask, but I would be a poor doctor if I didn't: are you drinking more than usual?"

I felt a little offended at the question, but tried not to show it. "Well, given that I never really drank that much at all, drinking anything would be more than usual."

I think she realised that my reply was somewhat evasive, but after holding my gaze for a few moments, she let the subject drop.

She smiled and handed me another prescription for my hormones. "There you go. Nicola, I just wanted to let you know something: with these reports and everything that I have seen of you so far, there is nothing to preclude you from making your transition complete. That is, once you have been living as a woman for a full year which is only a few months away."

I felt flustered and uncomfortable. I don't know why, but I reacted against such a suggestion. "Err, yes, thanks. I just don't think I'm ready to think my way around that yet."

She nodded. "I understand, but I think you should give some thought to it in future. Why don't you make an appointment to see me in another few months time?"
 

*          *          *
 
The rest of the week was another media frenzy. A few more signing sessions had been scheduled and I told Simon in no uncertain terms that I did not want any more arranged for the foreseeable future. They were draining and, although it was nice to meet adoring fans, after a while it lost its charm and I longed for some privacy. Such privacy was hard to find even in the simple things of life.

Jools and I were doing some grocery shopping in Tesco one day and heard whisperings behind us, "Look, that's Cara Malone! I can't believe she shops in Tesco."

What did they think I did? Did they think that I don't eat and wash like other people? Worse was to come when a picture of Jools and I leaving Tesco appeared in one of the tabloid celebrity gossip pages. Alright, so I didn't look my complete best, but I wasn't a total frump. The subtle insinuations about the relationship between Jools and me were galling too. Jools managed to shrug it off and laugh. It all came with the territory according to her and I had better get used to dealing with it. However, my suggestion that she could do all the shopping from that point on sadly didn't meet her idea of 'dealing with it'.

On Sunday night, we were confirmed as the chart toppers for another week. Two weeks at the top! It was heady stuff. 'No Half Measures' was doing reasonably well in the album charts also. From entering at number eight, it had risen to number six and then to number four. Simon was ecstatic with how things were going - probably because he had an eye on the balance sheet too. Jools was quite thrilled in that regard also. She had been doing some sums after talking to Simon and the figures she was predicting were quite something else. I had to count the amount of noughts to make sure I was following what she was saying.

That Friday night, we were scheduled for a live performance on 'Top of the Pops'. It was not as daunting an experience this time around. I wore a simple short white dress and high-heeled pumps. My hair was braided and my make up was typically seemingly overdone as required for the intensity of the studio lights. Although we had played live there before, to do it as the Number One artist was something special. I had been given a much larger dressing room this time and the guys even had two rooms to use. This was indeed a novelty for them. The performance was faultless and I revelled in it. I think I almost overdid the hungry longing in the last verse and chorus, but Jools later assured me that it was phenomenal. The crowd, whilst not necessarily the most discerning, certainly seemed to like it.
 

*          *          *
 
The frequency of media events had begun to ease off thankfully. I had the occasional appearance on a daytime TV show the following week. I was not overly keen on such, but Simon insisted that if people had nothing better to do than watch daytime TV, they surely had plenty of time for buying and listening to music. In his book, any publicity was good publicity — or near enough.

There was one opportunity that I jumped at. I had been asked to guest on the 'Dave Bright Afternoon Show' on Radio One. I could remember first listening to Dave Bright in my late teens. He was 'The One' to listen to. We all did. He had a slightly irreverent way with him and always had a few co-presenters who all played well off one another.

Although I knew it was radio, I had taken a lot of time with my appearance. I had settled for a simple short red mini-dress that just happened to show off my legs quite well. With my hair straightened and glossy looking and my make up just right, I entered the studio with anticipation. I met Dave briefly before the show and he gave me a hearty welcome. You could say that he was well suited to a radio career. I think some people termed it 'a face made for radio'. That was a little unkind, but he was not the most attractive person in physical terms. However, he most certainly had an attractive aura about his personality. I also met his crew: a guy called Wes and a girl called Sue.

Half an hour into the show, I was brought into the studio and introduced on air.

Dave winked at me, "Everyone, I can't believe it — Cara Malone has just walked into our studio." He made as if this was an impromptu appearance. "Cara, what are you doing here?"

I laughed and decided to play along. "Well Dave, I've always been a big fan of yours and meeting you has been one of my unfulfilled dreams."

He smirked and was quick to reply. "Well, as most of you know, fulfilling the dreams of gorgeous women has for a long time been something… that I've realised I will never do."

"Dave, you're doing yourself a disservice," Sue chipped in.

"Aww, Sue, you're all heart," Dave said.

She grinned. "To say that you fulfilled the dreams of any woman would be an overstatement."

He spluttered. "Where's the respect?"

"Unless you count nightmares," Wes added.

"True," Sue conceded.

I was thinking that I should say something, but I was laughing too much. This was vintage stuff and took me back to my younger days. I mentioned this.

"I can remember listening to you when I was younger and wondering if this was all scripted, but I can see you're all just totally crazy. It's wonderful."

"Crazy?" Dave asked with a grin. "Wes, she thinks this is crazy? And here we are trying to be on our best behaviour. Anyway, on with our questions. There's no point wasting the opportunity to spend time with a beautiful woman… not that I know anything personally about that of course. Wes, you have the first question?"

Wes cleared his throat. "Cara, tell me - how does it feel to be one of the most sexy women in British pop music?"

I was lost for words. "I… err… well…" I thought quickly, "As flattered as I am by what you say, I doubt that is the case."

"Instant poll!" Dave shouted. "Listeners, we put it to you — is Cara Malone one of the sexiest women in British pop music or not. Our finger is on the pulse of the nation and soon we will reveal the views of the British public. Phone, text or email us now."

I was almost overwhelmed by the quick fire nature of the show and found it hard to keep up with what was going on.

"My turn now," said Sue, "Cara, I love your latest video. Is your co-star really as good a kisser as he looks? And do you have his phone number?"

I laughed. "Yes Sue, I have to tell you that he is. Better, perhaps." The guys were making disapproving noises in the background. "And sorry, but I don't have his phone number."

"Shame," Sue murmured.

"I doubt that he's as good a kisser as Dave and I," Wes interjected.

I knew what their next line was going to be. If I disagreed, he would no doubt propose that I had not yet tried kissing them and would have to do so to prove it. I looked over at him and he grinned as he raised an eyebrow. I leaned towards the mike and said, "Well Wes, why don't you and Dave give each other a good sloppy one now and I'll be the objective observer."

Wes' mouth dropped open and he nodded to me and laughed. "OK, you got me that time, I'll admit that."

Dave shook his head, "Brainy, beautiful and talented. Cara, I've heard it rumoured that you are unfathomably single. What's the deal with that?"

I grinned slyly. "I just hadn't come across the one man for me… until today that is."

Dave laughed, "I knew it. Thank you God. My time has come…"

I interrupted, "Yes until on my way in, I saw this hunk on the main reception desk…"

There were jeers and laughs around the room. The 'interview' if it could be called that, continued in this vein for some time. It was more of a banter session that flirted with the line between humour and innuendo, but never actually crossed it. I don't think I had laughed as much for a long time. I hoped I had come across alright on the radio, but Jools had promised to listen at home and give me feedback later that day.

I would tell you about the results of the 'poll', but modesty precludes me from doing so.
 

*          *          *
 
When I arrived home, I was in a good mood and bounced up the stairs to find Jools. She was sitting on the sofa looking pensive.

"Well? How did I do?" I asked cheerfully.

"Umm, sorry. I forgot to listen."

"You forgot?" I said with a degree of incredulity. I took in her troubled expression. "What's wrong?"

She sighed. "Sit down, Cara."

I did so and asked again, "What's wrong?"

"You got… we got another note in the post this afternoon."

"Oh," I said. "The same as before?"

"Not quite," she said with a frown.

"Can I see it?"

"Here." She slid a clear plastic envelope to me.

I read the note inside and I felt as if I were going to be sick. I read the words again.

It read, 'Are you thinking about me, you transsexual bitch?'

"Oh my God," I croaked.

"There's another complication," Jools said slowly. I looked up at her and nodded for her to continue. "Rachel was the one who opened the letter and read it first."

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