CHAPTER 67
I stumbled out of the bathroom straight into Den, who almost picked me up as he moved me out of the door in obvious urgency.

I was in the nighty Ginny had given me at the end of my other life, so I was at least half decent, but his eyes did go to my chest, which was flattering. Eric was right; the more I relaxed, the easier it got accepting who I was.

I wandered down to the kitchen to see if I could scare up a cuppa for him, to find the room full of women, which did even more to confirm that morning’s mood. Ordinary. An ordinary woman, among women. The fact that none of the women in the kitchen could ever be described as ‘ordinary’ was irrelevant, it was the way I was feeling. I gave Kate a hug, and then moved on to the kettle to find Steph already agitating a huge teapot. She grinned at me.

“With my in-laws, we need something this big. Both the Bills drink it as if it will evaporate if they leave it around. Cuppa for Eric?”

Kirsty nodded at that. “Notice how all the blokes are still in bed, except for the one who had a bladder problem? And he’s already tucked up again. Men, who’d have ‘em?”

Steph laughed at that. “Well, apart from those two there, all of us can’t do without them. And that’s ‘one man’, I rather suspect, for the rest of us”

It struck me, just then, that Kirsty’s hand was still bare, and I wondered if Dennis had actually lost his courage. Kirsty’s face, though…

“Yeah, you know, girls, I think it is. I’ve sort of tried the waters a bit, and that gets old, yeah? It seems to tick along nicely with him in the place, and it feels, I dunno, sort of final, yeah? Like, coming home at last?”

I realised she was as stuck on him as the rest of us were stuck on our own partners, and then, being Kirsty, she had to spoil the moment. She leant forward, with a broad grin.

“Course, it don’t hurt that he’s hung like a fucking donkey, yeah? Biggest cock I’ve ever…well, you know!”

I slipped out to the living room, where he was sat up waiting for his slave to deliver the tea. I raised a finger to my lips, and quietly said “You still have that little thing you bought?”

He nodded.

“Just ask her, Den. She’s waiting for you to do just that. I don’t need to know what there is in your past, but just this once, take a risk, aye?”

“Annie…can you pass me my jacket, please, and then bugger off?”

I did so, and left the room just as Kirsty went by carrying two mugs. Shortly afterwards, there was a squeal, and her shout of “YES!” and seconds later she erupted into the kitchen with her hair flying and her left hand extended, and it seemed to take forever for her to recover the power of coherent conversation.

She finally looked over at me, the excitement easing. “You knew, didn’t you?”

I just nodded, and smiled.

“How long has he been wobbling about like a weeble?”

“I think, from the way you are talking, too long.”

“Well, it’s all official now, so you are going to have to put up with second best, girl!

“I don’t actually see Eric as second best, Ruthie”

That brought a much softer smile. “No, neither do I, but hey, it’s horses for courses, yeah?”

Ginny murmured, softly but loudly enough “Donkeys….”

It took a long while for the final return of sanity. What else could we do but organise a massed descent on the Viennese cake and coffee shop? Life was so good it almost hurt. Eric had slipped off before our second cup, heading for the hospital, and his interview result, nodding to me and to Kirsty as he left. I took her arm.

“Kirsty, oh recently-engaged one, I have a question. Eyes this way, away from the tall bloke who buys things for you”

“Sorry, Annie, just a bit blown away, still”

“Yeah, fine, but I need a favour. Hair. I have some, I need to do something with it, and my past experiences have all been of the ‘do the head and face, Number Two’ variety. Who should I go to?”

She pulled out her phone and dialled a number. “Can do better than that, girl Hi, is Lizzie in today? Yeah? Any slots? Just a cut, or looking at it a wash and cut, girl needs a new style, yeah? Twenty minutes? Great! See ya!”

She put the phone away. “If you want it done today, they are round in the old High Street, and can fit you in in twenty. I will take you there. Just need to get rid of this lot---no, not you, Den!”

I laughed at his embarrassment. “Kirsty, you are a strumpet, aye?”

Three of us took our leave, and went round to a shop called “Zara’s” who professed to be “Artist’s in hair”. Kirsty caught my snort, and I realised she actually saw nothing wrong. Oh dear. I nearly turned round when I saw Lizzie, who had one of those haircuts where it all hangs down one side, cropped on the other, and an array of metal inserts in her flesh. Kirsty was still behind me, and just took my arm so I couldn’t run.

“Lizzie, we need something practical for work, but still feminine, easy care, not too short, OK?”

The girl ran her fingers through my hair, and turned my head from side to side, tutting.

“What you been washing it with, love?”

“Tesco’s family shampoo”

She shuddered. “And the conditioner? No, that would be too much to hope for”

I was taken to a chair, leant over a sink and…it was a wash and a haircut. Nothing world-shaking, no sudden onrush of XX chromosomes. Just a rather prolonged session over a sink and then an even longer time of snipping and tutting. Kirsty had gone off with her fiancé to do whatever it was she had planned for him, and I was left to Lizzie’s lecture. The odd thing was, she made it very clear that she knew exactly what I was, but carried on as if I were some normal woman in for a trim and set, or whatever it is called. That was something that surprised and delighted me, so as she worked I asked her.

“Well, you ain’t a tranny, cos they usually has wigs, and I can see your beard’s gone, yeah, so makes sense, you’re one of those swapping ones. Don’t bother me, a woman’s a woman, and hair’s hair. Just, take more care of it, yeah. What I done, like, is to feather it at the sides and back, so it sticks out, yeah? You wear a lid on that bike?”

“No, not usually”

“Well, this style should perk up OK if you do, yeah? You gonna grow it longer? I can keep it styled, yeah, so it still looks OK, but you come back and see me regular. Kirst has got my number. Is that your phone?”

She passed the ringing mobile to me, and of course it was Eric.

“Where are you, love?”

“Being lectured about my hair, some place on the High Street called Zara’s. And?”

“And what?”

“You know bloody well what. Did you get it?”

“Do estate agents bore you? We need to visit some”

My squeal wasn’t as girly as Kirsty’s had been, but Lizzie still winced at it. “You got it, then!”

“Just have a month’s notice to work, then I am Crawley-bound. Time to sort out my bits and pieces, perhaps use that storage place by the Beehive. I do have a confession…my place is already on the market.”

“Do tell, Johnson”

“Annie, if I hadn’t got this one, I was going to keep looking till I found something else, even if it was down with Kate in Brighton and I had to commute. I have been doing a lot of thinking. You left me so bloody confused, for such a long time, and it is only now I am seeing things really clearly again. Look, I don’t know what is going to happen next week, never mind in twenty years’ time, but one thing I have learned over these last months has been who I want to spend my time with. I love you, Annie Price, and you know that, so we can sidestep all the jokes, and the little coy dances, because we both know that as of now we are living together full time”

“But you still have a month’s notice to work”

“And they still owe me a fortnight’s unused leave, and for two weeks I can stump up for commuting. Get used to it, woman, you’ve just lost half your bed”