This episode is offered up to see if there is a desire for a continuation of the story of Laura and Pete. Odd John is leaving the building, and unlike the first 'book' this is not a mystery story. The first part came to a natural end; this can be read as a separate story.

CHAPTER 1
That weekend, oddly, was one of the best I can remember. Dad Pete and my Pete seemed to have recovered a spark, a family bond that had been lost with his leg. Seeing them smile together warmed me, and it was hard work slowing my man down. He wanted to show his father everything at once, all the changes that had taken place since his so-called failure and run to York. More importantly, I was seeing my mother in love.

That was so obviously how she felt it was almost painful to watch, and he was so clearly in the same boat I wanted to cry at the thought of two wasted decades. They made an odd pair, to outside eyes, the perfectly turned out elegant lady with that huge bear in a checked shirt and jeans, but whose business was that beyond their own? She was so happy it looked painful, facial expressions beyond a raised eyebrow not being her thing.

That morning turned into a sort of group hug after what I would think should be called their confessions, and no words were needed to seal what was obvious between us. The two culprits were long dead, I was healing, and it seemed nobody else needed to know. Mary might suspect, but that was something I would deal with if it arose. What was important now was also between the four of us: what were we going to do with each other? I couldn’t see Dad Pete and Mum letting go of each other again, in fact, I hadn’t seen them let go all through breakfast, but what about my Pete?

Laura was back, almost fully it seemed, and she was me and always had been. There were huge gaps in my memories, and I think always will be, but the moods, the feelings were all there. I was thankful that one particular set of memories were locked away, only surfacing as confused nightmares, but I knew they were there. They always would be, but I now had a way of dealing with them, and I was no longer alone. I never had been alone, of course, but in my retreat from life I had felt it.

Feelings…Odd John had never really had feelings, just obsessions, focus. I was still learning how people worked, and as I watched I tried to tune my own behaviour, to live in my skin rather than simply wear it.

I dressed after breakfast, shivering a little as I slipped my wobbly bits in. They were becoming second nature to wear, and I felt really odd as John, without them. At some point…I pushed Pete out into the garden.

“We need to have another talk, Pete. About us, but mainly about me.”

I drew a deep breath. Where to start? How about where to finish?

“Pete, where do you see us going?”

“Wherever you want to go, but with one condition. Well, two, actually. The first is that you are happy with it, and the second is that I come along.”

“Well, there is one thing I do have in mind. You will need to move out of the Legion centre eventually, and you will have to find somewhere suitable for your wheels, work surfaces at the right height, and so on”

”Not necessarily, if I get my new leg I will be able to live almost normally, but what are you thinking?”

“Well, we have stairs here, but I rather suspect Mum would be happy to do some more mods to the house for you. That would do short term, but much as I love her, I do not want to live with my mother permanently. Once Jane has sorted out the payments, I will have half the value of the house in my hot and sweaties”

“Don’t you think you should raise the assumption you are making about me before that move, Laura?”

“Nope, I will be looking for somewhere of my own anyway. I just need to know if I should make it a bungalow.”

I kept very quiet about the other thought very much bubbling away. How many bedrooms?

With every breath that came into me, more of John left, more of his oddity.

“Before we cover those assumptions, I am asking for your support. I know I will have Mum’s.”

Breathe…

“I think it is about time that I started fitting myself to my soul. It will be a long, messy business. Will you please be with me for it? Please be my friend? I am rather short of those…”

He kissed me gently. No passion, just tenderness.

“No, John was short of friends. Laura will be different. I am with you, as much of the way as you want me. I have an idea as to where to start, if you feel brave.”

He fed me his little plan, and I nearly wet myself with terror. He held me, and whispered “Not alone”

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“Dave? It’s John. What are you and Sharon up to today? Fancy a run out to Bosham for lunch? Yeah? Well, you would know the tide tables, it’s a pub. One ish? See you there”

Done. I had just sealed my fate, after a rather shaky discussion with Dad Pete and Mum. We would head out for the Blue Anchor in Bosham, a tiny village right on the edge of the sea. In fact it is occasionally IN the sea, as high tide comes up onto the streets, and the garden walls serve to keep the houses dry, with a step up to pass through the gates. Parked cars serve to amuse the locals, especially with a spring high tide, which is why Dave had checked the tide tables. Good food, real ales for the boys and pretty views, and a falling tide.
I borrowed some more of my mother’s undies and stockings, and stayed with the suede courts from the previous night, which reminded me that I only actually had five pairs of shoes, discounting my male items, and shopping would be a real necessity at some point. Another hurdle to overcome, but one that would be necessary. What a horrible thought, more nice clothes….A cream blouse with a light grey mid-calf flared skirt would be warm, but still shout femininity, if the bloody shoes didn’t do the trick. Mum helped with my face, and teased my hair out, and by twelve we were out the door and into Mum’s car.

We arrived as the water was leaving, the best timing possible, and on a surprisingly warm Autumn afternoon we took seats outside. There were views across the water, a little egret fishing not far off, gulls crying and the rattle of rigging on masts as small boats swung at their moorings. We turned out to be about three minutes in advance of Dave and Sharon, and the boys went into the bar to choose ales, Pete managing a treat on his crutches. I realised that all the leaning on me may just have been a little…. unnecessary.

It was hilarious. Mum was looking out over the water as Dave walked right past the two of us, Sharon in tow. The beer was calling, and he was focused. Odd John wasn’t the only one, quite clearly. A few minutes later, four people came out of the door, three carrying drinks, the fourth making the introductions, and leading them to our table.

I stood up to say hello, and Dave dropped his glass. Sharon managed her surprise better.

“It is definitely not a fair world, he’s got better legs than me!”

Dave just nodded, and Sharon slapped the back of his head. I hugged her, and after a slight moment of stiffness, she hugged me back.

“This will be good….but should we get the food in before the juicy bits?”

We sorted out the orders, Dad Pete as errand boy, plus a replacement drink for Dave, and I made sure I was seen touching Pete. Let them see the truth. Dave snorted a couple of times, and I braced myself for one of the more traditional schemata…thar she blew.

“I didn’t realise you were gay, John. I mean, I spotted that mascara you had on the other day, but I just thought it was, well, dunno. So Pete here as well, then…”

Sharon was looking at me with narrowed eyes.

“No, lover, I think this is something else. This isn’t just dressing up, is it, John? And… is it John now?”

“Laura, and no, I am not gay, and I bloody well hope Pete isn’t”

Pete leant forward from his chair, peered at Dave, and murmured

“So…what are you doing tonight……big boy?”

Dave almost lost his second drink at that.

“Dave, there s a lot to tell here, and it was Pete’s idea to drop you in it like this. I have a story for you, but what I am really after is a little support for what will most certainly be a stressful time”

Sharon was still watching carefully. “You are so different from John, Laura. You are actually communicating. What the hell has happened to you?”

They got the abbreviated version, of course, and I left out the identity of my ‘attacker’, but in essence our childhood was replayed, and how the return of the warrior led to my recovery and re-entry into humanity. Sharon asked pointed questions, Dave asked blunt ones, and Sharon slapped his head a couple of times. Food was served, and then puddings were succumbed to, as redshanks and oystercatchers called over the receding water. Finally, as the boys supped, and we sipped, Dave asked the bluntest of his questions.

“Yes, Dave, that will be the plan. I need to fit me to me, but timing, work, all of that will need support. That is what this little lunch is really about. Do I have your good will, and your support?”

“Oh, come on Jo–Laura, how long have we been mates?”

“Since about one o’clock, Dave, you have only just met me. You knew a construct, a fiction, called John for a few years, though”

Sharon interrupted his stumbling attempt at a reply. “She’s right, Dave, we need to get to know her all over again, but do me a favour, just say bloody ‘yes’ “

She leant forward. “Fancy damaging some credit cards? I think we need some retail therapy in the near future, and I am going to hazard a guess that you don’t have the biggest of wardrobes. What credit limit has Pete got?”