My journey back to London was dogged by heavy weekend traffic so it was late afternoon before I arrived home in a thoroughly depressed mood. In less than one day my ever so carefully laid plans for my holiday had been totally shattered.

The only stop I made was at a supermarket to buy some food as in my haste to leave, I’d left all my holiday food at Olivia’s. My mind was in such a mess that my shopping was a case of any food would do, not the carefully planned and calorie controlled diet that I normally followed.

Back home, I just sat down and moped until it was getting dark. The descending gloom seemed to match my mood and I got up and started to put things away.

In the middle of hanging up my clothes, I suddenly realised that in the haste of leaving the cottage the previous day I’d left behind the envelope containing the keys to my belt.

It was probably still on the table near the front door to the cottage.

I collapsed on my bed and cried in despair. My one-day holiday had rapidly turned into the holiday from hell.

- - - -

The morning light woke me from a very troubled sleep. I was still in my clothes from the previous day. I smelt something rotten. I was mightily pissed off and angry at myself, everything and everyone! It just wasn’t fair. Why me? I wasn’t going to harm anyone so why did everything and everyone conspire against me.

I took a quick shower. This revived my spirits somewhat so I put on my running kit and went out for a long run.

It was still early that Monday morning. As I turned the corner from my street onto the main road, I set my watch. 05:45. I stopped for a moment. I’d not realised it was that early.

With a new determination, I carried on with my run. I normally ran three or four mornings a week over a route that was approx 13km. I set off on my normal route that would take me to Alexandra Palace where I’d normally take a breather. For some reason that I can’t place I carried on running. Before I knew it I was on Hampstead Heath with its magnificent views over London. I turned round and walked slowly down the hill catching my breath.

The morning was bright and clear. I could see the almost constant stream of aircraft queuing to land at Heathrow well out to the east of the city.

For a moment or two, my problems seemed a million miles away.

Then reality struck.

I needed to pee and there was no way I was going into the toilets wearing my belt. The Heath is a notorious ‘cruising’ place for gay men even at this early hour and there is one thing I am not and that is gay. Mentally, I’m probably closer to a lesbian even though physically, I’m male.

Putting my needs to one side, I started running back home. I knew that the Café at Ally Pally would be open by the time I got there. They had a clean loo I could use.

I made it to the Café without incident and after ordering a Tea I headed for the loo.

The tea was good as was the Bacon and Egg Sandwich I followed it with. As I sat there toying with the second cup of tea I knew that I was just trying to delay the inevitable, the call I’d have to make to Olivia.

By the time I got home, I’d run nearly 25km it was close on 10am. I showered and after drying myself, I spurned any female attire and dressed in Jeans and a clean white shirt.

Then I steeled myself for the phone call.

I dialled the number of the agents in Minehead praying that Olivia would answer.

I was so disappointed when a man answered the phone.

I explained my problem as best I could without revealing too much, in that I’d left an envelope containing some keys at the cottage on Saturday.

The man who answered was called Cyril. He was very helpful and promised to contact the occupants of the cottage that morning and attempt to get the keys.

Little did I know that his efforts would come to nothing.

Feeling much happier with myself, I fixed myself some lunch. As I ate the tinned Scotch Broth, I thought to myself that I’d need to go shopping that afternoon, a little retail therapy would go down a treat.

After I’d washed up and tidied away, I headed out to the Supermarket to get some 'real' food.

It was nearly 4pm when I returned. Any later and it would be next to impossible to find a parking spot. I was really pleased when I managed to squeeze in to a spot almost outside my flat.

I’d just unloaded the car when I felt someone standing close to me. I looked up. It was Olivia.

My heart almost stopped stone cold dead. She was either the best person the very last person I wanted to see at that moment. I couldn't decide which.

“What… What are you doing here?

“Looking for you. You left something behind in the cottage. I’ve come to return it to you.”

“You should have just put it in the post you know.”

“I could have done just that. Then…”

She grinned back at me.

“You didn’t seal the packet. I looked inside and…”

“Look Olivia. Thank you for coming all this way but I’d like my keys please?”

“You are no fun you know.”

She smiled again.

“I know what the keys are for...?”

“Eh? What? How?”

“One of my old boyfriends wanted me to wear one all the time.”

“So you put two and two together. I still want my keys though.”

The smile disappeared from her face.

“Oh fuck you Thomas. You are the most awkward man I’ve ever met. It is no wonder you are on your own. You are a mess. You really don’t know what you want from life.”

Then I realised we were standing in the middle of a North London Street. Two people walking nearby were standing looking at us with open mouths.

“Look Olivia. We can’t stand out here arguing. Why don’t you come inside? I’ve got some things to put in the freezer before they defrost.”

She thought for a few seconds.

“Ok. Perhaps I can help put things away?”

The look I gave her said, ‘Don’t you dare!’ Well I hoped so anyway, I wasn’t too keen on the way she was invading my personal space.

Once inside my flat, I made sure she kept in my field of view. I wasn’t sure about her despite almost fancying her at one stage on Saturday Evening. There was something about her I was uneasy with, something that I couldn’t put my finger on.

When all my groceries were packed away, I sat her down at the kitchen table. I put the kettle on and busied myself making some tea in a desperate attempt to plan what I was going to say next.

Once I’d made the tea and poured it, I sat down on the other side of the table to her.

“Olivia, I’d like you to give me my keys, drink the tea and leave me alone. You could just as well have posted them to me. After all, the envelope had my address on it and I’d even stamped it. So, my only question is ‘why’? Why did you drive all this way and then be so reluctant to return my property to me”

There, I’d said it. I hoped my directness would make her give me the keys.

“It is not as easy as that Thomas. I was going to tell you on Sunday but you upped and left me without giving me a chance to explain.”

“So explain?”

She smiled at me.

“I knew what those keys were for because I once wore a belt like yours”

“So, you told me that already? What do I care?”

I could then see that this was hard for her.

“I’ve been in the same situation as you. I was once just like you…”

“Like me? How could you even remotely be like me?”

“Don’t you see, I was once a man.”

As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

“Now you are kidding. Look at you. There is no way in hell that you were ever a man. I don’t believe it. It is just not possible.”

“Oh Thomas. It is totally possible. Given enough money, time and the willingness of the subject to endure lots of pain.”

“Money? Then why are you house-sitting? Why don’t you have a place of your own? Why are you working at a Holiday Letting Agent’s in Minehead if you have money?” I responded without really thinking.

I was getting angry now.

“I don’t have the money. I never did. I had a rich benefactor who then upped and died on me leaving me with nothing not long after I had all the work done.”

“I’m not listening any more. Give me my keys this instant and get the hell out of my life. You are full of lies.”

She was close to tears herself but I wasn’t letting up. This temper of mine has gotten me into trouble several times before.

I held out my hand.

With a tear running down her cheek, she opened her handbag and pulled out the envelope I’d left at the cottage.

She put it on the table, stood up and left me alone without saying another word.

As soon as I heard the front door slam, I opened the package. I breathed a sigh of relief as I found the keys to my belt. Then I noticed something else in the package, an envelope.

I pulled it out and examined it. There was nothing on the outside so I looked inside. To my surprise, there was a well-worn and slightly dog-eared photograph. The subject was of a young man in his teens sitting on a beach somewhere.

I looked on the back for some more clues.

There was an inscription.

“To Olivia, don’t forget who Oliver was whatever may come to pass in the future”

It was dated some 10 and a bit years earlier and signed 'Joe'.

I studied the face in the picture.

To my dismay, I could see a resemblance to Olivia.

Without hesitation, I rushed to the front door, opened it and dashed into the street.

I looked up and down the street but to my dismay, there was no sign of her.

With a heavy heart, I went inside my home and started to cry. For the second time in as many days, I’d been so pigheaded and self-centred that I’d made another big mistake.

As my ex wife was often found to be saying, all I’m interested in is ‘Me, Me, Me and to hell with anyone else’.

Most of the time, she was so very far from the truth.

To my eternal dismay, this time she was so right, so very right.

[The end]