Before I could render a full explanation to the single officer in the first car, another Police car drew up at the house. Inwardly, I groaned when I saw the officer getting out of the driver’s side. It was none other than 'Ian 'I'm not one' Pratt. He was the class bully when I was at Hendon. His Sergeant's stripes shone brightly in the light from the porch.

He entered the hall and looked hard at me. Then he looked again before turning away to speak to his colleague.

“What is the problem Sadik?” he asked.

“We have this person here claiming to be an undercover police officer. She had only just started to explain why she's on our patch unannounced.”

“Who's this?” asked the Sergeant.

“This is an ex-Arsenal Footballer named Daniel Carpenter. He's lying where she put him apparently with some kung-foo. He's been screaming blue murder. Well he was until I told him that I'd kick him where it hurts unless he shuts up so that we can sort this out.”

“Very good constable. I'll take over from now on.”

“Sarge, there is something else.”

The Sergeant was getting interrupted. He'd probably been dreaming about knocking off and getting a bacon sarnie on the way home from his shift.

“Well, out with it?”

“She keeps trying to get us to call ACC Bishop.”

Ian Pratt didn't like this one little bit.

“Why?”

I tried to tell him

“It is because...”

“You shut the fuck up. If you speak out of turn again, I'll arrest you on the spot undercover officer of not. This is my crime scene and no jumped up biddy tells me what to do. Get it?”

I smiled back at him and decided to wind him up a bit.

“Yes, Mr Pratt. You always were like your namesake. I remember saying that several times when we were at Hendon together. You haven't changed one little bit.”

He almost exploded with rage. He came at me with fists flying.

I parried his left and right thrust. Several times he tried to land a 'haymaker' on me. I just ducked left and right. I didn't even try to right back.

“You could never lay a finger on me in unarmed combat could you Pratt?”

Then he realised who I was.

“Fuck you. You were always the class queer and now I know it for real,” he screamed.

Then he drew his baton and extended it.

His constable tried to stop him but was pushed aside.

“I'm gonna get you this time you fucking faggot and no one is going to stop me.”

He swung the baton and once again I sidestepped it. As it went past me, I grabbed it and pulled him forward. He lost his balance and ended up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs alongside Daniel Carpenter.

He sat up fuming.

“Constable arrest this faggot for assaulting a Police Officer.”

The Constable was far too busy on his Radio to obey.

“Two Three Two to Base. Urgent message for Ac Bishop.”

The control didn't believe him.

“Yes base. I am serious. I am calling at the request of an Undercover Officer. It is to do with Operation Marlin. Get her out of bed and to attend this scene pronto. You might like to get the Inspector to attend as well. Sergeant Pratt has gone mad and tried to assault the undercover officer.”

“You are toast Khan. I'll feed you to the pigs by the time I'm finished and we all know how Muslims hate anything to do with pigs,” roared the Sergeant as he tried to get to his feet.

I bent down and picked up his Baton.

I smiled at the constable.

“I was in the same class at Hendon at this idiot. He was the class bully. I was a little different then.”

“Don't listen to that faggot. It's a man in that getup just like you and I. Put the handcuffs on … on it.”

The constable shook his head.

“Not this time Sarge. You have gone too far. You are nothing more than a racist bigot. You are going to get… well, get what I and many other officers think you deserve. In my honest opinion, I saw you attack a fellow police officer who acted with considerable restraint.”

He smiled at me and pointed at his Radio. He'd been transmitting all the time. This was not going to be pushed under the carpet. I smiled back at the constable. He'd done exactly the right thing.

“Hey, what about me. She attacked me after breaking onto my house?” complained 'him'.

I kicked his legs to get his attention.

“You do not have the right to remain silent. Anything and everything you say will be taken down in evidence and may be used in court. I'm arresting you on suspicion of twelve counts on murder and the assault and kidnapping of a police officer. That is just for starters. I'll probably add assault with a deadly weapon, breaking and entering and multiple counts of kidnapping.”

He said nothing.

“Do you understand?”

He nodded his head.

I turned to the Constable.

“Sadik Isn't it?”

“Yes”

“DC Jamie Harris. Please to meet you. Thanks for your support.”

“My pleasure. Anyone who stands up to that bully is a good person in my eye.”

Sgt Pratt glared at both of us.

“I'll get both of you thrown out of the force for this.”

I stared back at the Sergeant for several seconds before telling him,

“Don't you realise what this guy has been doing? He's the tube murderer. I was to be his thirteenth victim and that's why I'm dressed like this. You come blundering in in your size fifteens and try to settle a personal score. If I have any say in the matter, it will be you who is asked to leave the force and Sadik here gets his justly deserved promotion to Sergeant.”

The last bit was just to wind him up. As with most bullies it didn't take much.

“I'll expose your filthy habit to the press. Dressing like some tramp? You are nothing more than some queer tranny faggot.”

“Are you recording all this Constable?”

He glared at Sadik.

Sadik smiled back.

“Yes. I've got everything.”

Before I could add anything, his radio burst into life.

“Base to Two Three Two.”

“Two Three Two here.”

“Message from AC Bishop. It reads. Well done. Be there inside an hour.”

I smiled broadly.

The radio carried on.

“The crime scene people are on their way. They have asked for you not to go messing the place up any more than you have to. Ok?”

“Understood Base. Is the Inspector coming?”

“He left as soon as he was called. He should be there soon.”

“Understood. Two Three Two out.”

“Thanks, Sadik, There is nothing more to do but wait.”

The killer tried once again.

“I demand to be allowed to call my lawyer.”

I glared at him.

“You will get your phone call once you are taken to the station and duly processed.”

Then I looked at Sadik.

“Where are we by the way? I was unconscious when I was kidnapped and brought here?”

“Just outside Barnet. On the road to Elstree.”

“Shit. How far out?”

“Not far. Why?”

“I know that about half way along that road the Met area ends and the Hertfordshire mob take over. After all I've gone through these past weeks, I don't want them to get all the glory.”

“No Sir, we are firmly in Met Land,” replied Sadik.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
- - - - - -

Three and a half hours later I finally got to tell my story to the ‘great and the good’ at Barnet Police Station. I didn't notice until I'd finished that Mary had slipped into the briefing room while I was telling my tale.

She came and hugged me long and hard when I'd finished. I felt relieved that she didn't try to kiss me. Not that I didn't want one but somewhere along the line, I'd picked up a cut lip and it was pretty sore.

When the meeting was over, ACC bishop took both of us aside.

She was grinning from ear to ear.
“I had my doubts at first but you two have really pulled it off.”

She shook our hands firmly.

“I didn't do much,” said Mary.

“Nonsense. You have played your role perfectly. No one could have asked for more.”

Mary blushed at the compliment.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

Now she got serious.

“You will both need to make a formal statement before you leave. The PR people are trying to keep a lid on this until Mr Carpenter is formally charged. I don't think it will be long before reports that a male police officer posing as a woman nabbed the tube killer hits the media especially social media. We'll do our best to keep you both under wraps but it might not be possible. If you get hounded then give Max a call pronto. He'll get both of you somewhere safe. Understood?”

We both nodded our heads in confirmation.

“Good. Now I suppose that we should get Max's friend to start bringing you out of cover? After some well-deserved time off that is.”

Before I could think of the implications, I blurted out,

“Yes Ma’am. However, It is entirely likely that I will not be coming back to work as a Police Officer. If it is all the same to you, I'd rather like to keep this identity.”

Mary gave a sharp intake of breath.

“I take it that you knew nothing of this?” asked AC Bishop.

“No Ma’am. Not a thing.”

“Well then once you have made your statements and get out of this madhouse, I suggest you both have a long talk to each other. From the reports I have received, your relationship has gone quite a bit beyond just playing a deep undercover role. I'll give you a week. If I haven’t heard from you then I'll get Max to start extraction processes. Is that agreeable?”

“I'm sorry Mary. I wanted to tell you but I got nabbed before I could.”

I turned to our senior officer.

“Yes Ma’am. That will be sufficient.”

“Good. Now I'll get an officer to begin to take your formal statements. It should be a slam-dunk case but you never know. He's got a lot of explaining to do to get out of the fact that we found the heads and hands of his victims in his home. I'd expect that the Crime people will be there for a few days gathering evidence but, in my opinion, we already have more than enough evidence to charge him and deny him bail.”

“Ma’am?”

“Yes? What is it?”

“I messed up… When I was going home. I forgot standing orders and jumped on the first tube. I didn’t wait for my tail to catch up. That’s why I was nabbed.”

ACC Bishop to her credit didn’t chew me off a strip there and then.

“I guessed as much. The report I received from Max hinted at it. However, it all turned out ok didn’t it?”

“Ma’am?”

“We got lucky… Or rather you got lucky and we got a result. Between us, I see no need to mention this bit of your story again.”

Then she smiled at us.

“Understand?”

“Message understood Ma’am,” I said feeling mightily relieved.
- - - -

It was nearly three in the afternoon before we emerged from the Police station. The fresh air felt good. The suspect had been taken to Edgware Road Police Station which thankfully was the focus of the press's attention. To our immense relief, there were no TV Crews or Photographer with impossibly long lenses 'shooting' everyone who left the station.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

Mary took hold of my hand and smiled.

“Full English at a place that serves them all day then home and bed. We can talk tomorrow. Until then, I want to spend at least eighteen hours lying in bed with you.”

I kissed her, long and hard.

“That sounds like a good idea.”

As we walked away from the Station, I glanced back to see at least 20 faces watching us from its windows. I felt happy for the first time in a long time. For me at least, there was no going back.

- - - -

We didn't discuss my or rather our future for two days. It just seemed that both of us wanted to be with each other and enjoying each other’s company. In the end, we were watching some inane game show on daytime TV when I brought up the subject of our future.

“I'm sorry for blurting that out without telling you, about not going back to work and stuff.”

Mary gripped my hand tightly.

“That's all right. You'd been through a lot and weren’t thinking properly. Now that I've had time to think, what you said was probably not unexpected for you.”

I gave her a little kiss.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I suppose it is up to me to decide If I want to join you or go back to being a Police Sergeant. I've been thinking a lot about this...”

Before she could carry on, my phone rang.

I thought about ignoring it. Only a handful of people knew this number so I guessed that it might be important.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

I grabbed the phone and looked at the caller ID. It was Max.

“Hi Max. What's up?” I said trying to sound happy.

I listened intently, the smile on my face draining away as he spoke.

“I understand. We can be ready in five minutes. Is that ok?”

“Good. Thanks for giving us the heads up.”

I hung up the phone and stood up. I pulled Mary up from the sofa.

“That fucking Sergeant Pratt or rather someone acting for him has spilled the beans to the press including, our address. Apparently, they are on their way here en-masse. We need to decamp pronto. Max is sending a car for us right away.”

“Shit!” exclaimed Mary.

“Max said that we need to get out of here before they arrive. Just grab the bare essentials. We have five minutes before we will be picked up. Max will let us know when they are outside.”

In our relationship, Mary was the slob and I was the person who came behind her and tidied up. Not that night. The place soon looked as if a bomb had hit it by the time we'd packed a few things into whatever bags were at hand.

As we caught our breath, I put the light out and peered out into the darkness. It all seemed quiet outside. The words 'the calm before the storm' went through my mind.

Just then my phone bleeped. A text message had arrived.

It said simply,

“60 secs.”

I showed it to Mary. She just nodded and picked up her bags.

We 'legged it'' out of the flat only stopping to make sure that the door was locked shut.

As we stepped outside, the same van as we'd used to move us in, pulled up outside. The side door slid open.

“Quick get inside,” said a voice.
I recognised it as belonging to one of Max's 'associates.

We literally dived inside and without delay, the door was shut with a slam and we took off up the street. The floor of the van was covered in some old mattresses.

As the van left the street we all breathed a sigh of relief as there was no sign of the press hot footing it to our nor former place of residence. We'd managed to escape probably by the skin of our teeth.

I began to doubt what Max had said when my phone bleeped again.

It was a text from Max. The message was just a URL of an article on one of the 'Red Top' newspapers. I clicked on it and waited.

Slowly the page appeared. Max had not been fibbing. Our secret was out. A Met ‘Insider’ was spilling the beans. The details that were in the paper left me in no doubt that it was Ian Pratt. He gave details that even the people in Barnet ‘nick’ didn’t know.

I showed it to Mary. She groaned when she read the description of her. They really done a number on her as well as me.

I closed up the phone and called out to the driver.

“Where are you taking us?” I asked.

“Surrey,” came the curt reply.

“Where in Surrey?”

“I don't know. I'm just following directions. Should take about ninety minutes or so at this time of night, traffic permitting.”

It was my time to groan. I sat back and held Mary.

After nearly two hours and many twists and turns we pulled up at a house 'somewhere in deepest Surrey’.

Our companion in the back who'd hardly said a word during the whole journey suddenly leapt into action. He slid open the door and started extracting our bags from the van. We took the hint and got out.

Before I could ask what next or anything, he'd leapt back into the van and it was off leaving us standing there in the bright moonlight.

A house in darkness was our only choice of somewhere to go.

I walked up to the door and looked for a bell. There was nothing except for a large metal knocker.

I used it. The sounds echoed inside the house. It seemed loud enough to wake the dead.

At first there was silence. Nary the sound of an owl to break it.

I was just about to try again when a light appeared from a room at the back of the house.

I stepped back from the door fully expecting it to open with a creak and a crusty old butler saying 'you rang?'.

I couldn't have been more mistaken. It was Lady Hamilton. The wife of Sir Richard, the man in charge of the Architects where I'd been working. I’d seen her a few times when she’d visited him at work.

“Ah good you are here. Please come in. Richard is driving down from town and should be here soon. Please let me help you with your bags.”

We picked up our meagre belongings and went inside.

Lady Hamilton shut the door behind us with a satisfying thud.

“Leave those bags there and come into the parlour at the back. I'd expect that you'd both like a drink?”

Neither of us answered but followed her into the rear of the house.

“Please sit down. We don't stand on ceremony here.”

“Thank you, Lady Hamilton,” I said.

“Sarah please. None of this Lady stuff. Ok?”

We both smiled back at her as we sat down.

“What will it be? I'm drinking a G&T but the bar is quite well stocked.”

I looked at Mary in an attempt to get her to go first.

After several awkward seconds, she took the hint.

“Some Scotch please. I see that you have some Jura there. That will be fine.”

“Ugh. Far too peaty for me. Richard is the only one who touches it,” replied Sarah as she poured a healthy slug of the brown liquid into a crystal glass.

Sarah handed it to Mary along with a jug of water. Then she looked at me.

“Do you have any beer?”

“I think we do,” replied Sarah as she bent down behind the small bar.

She stood up a few seconds later smiling.

“Will this do?” she said proudly as she put a couple of dark bottles on the counter.

I read the label.

“T.E.A. Traditional English Ale from the Hogs Back Brewery.”
“That will do fine. Thanks.”

“Oh good. Richard is always going on about 'Real Ale'. I can't see the attraction myself.”

Sarah acted the perfect hostess. She just opened the bottle and handed it to me along with a glass.

“He always pours it carefully. I don't know why but I suggest you do the same. He keeps going on about something called bottle conditioned. The only conditioner I know of comes out of a bottle.”

Her attempt at a joke fell flat on its face.

Sarah handed me my drink and sat down opposite us.

I was about to speak when Mary asked,

“I get the connection with Tamara working at your husband’s company but just how did we end up here?”

“Oh, that’s simple. Max gave me a call earlier and explained what was going on. I was only too willing to help out. That’s because Max is my brother.”

In those few words, a whole bunch of questions had been answered.

“I never knew,” I remarked.

Sarah let out a deep sigh.

“Pretty well everything with Max is on a need to know basis and has been for years,” she added with a slight bit of resentment.

“Max was an Army Sergeant Major when he was on a mission in Afghanistan, or so he says. He’s never said what or exactly where it was but the results were that he ended up with his legs getting blown off by something. He won’t say what it was though. Using the word IED is a cover for a multitude of weapons but it conveys a message,” added Sarah with a good deal of sadness in her voice.

I began to understand the job that Max was performing for the Police and god knows else. Operating just outside the law but not really illegal. That seemed to sum it up.

Now that I knew where we were, I began to feel a bit happier. I could tell that Mary was feeling likewise.

About an hour later Sir Richard turned arrived at the house. To our collective surprise he was accompanied by AC Bishop.

“Sue please. We are off duty,” said our superior officer as she took her coat off.

Sarah made a discrete exit along with her husband.

Sue poured herself a small scotch and sat down.

“We need to talk. As you are aware, things have come to a head.”

“We know that. Is anything being done about Sergeant Pratt?” asked Mary getting her play in first.
“Without him and his big mouth, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

Sue gave a small nod in agreement.

“He’s under investigation for perverting the course of justice and accepting bribes and probably other more serious crimes.”

“I don’t understand?” I asked.

“He has sold the story about you to the press. This endangers the pending trial of you know who for multiple counts of murder. That sort of information is sub-judice until it put before the court. He was already under suspension for the attack on you. Sadly, his sweet talking of the press has turned them against you when they should be lauding your bravery in the case.”

She took a sip of her drink.

“For some strange reason, they seem to find a story about a transvestite cop better headline material than the apprehension down a serial killer. If that isn’t a sad reflection on our society today then I don’t know what is…,” added Sue with a definite sad tone to her voice.

“What are you proposing we do?”

Sue finished off her drink in one go.

“Now that the story is out, the only thing is some damage limitation. You have to get your story out into the press.”

“There is no way I’m giving a press conference! I’ll get crucified.”

She didn’t argue with that.

“There is another way. An exclusive interview by a trusted journalist.”

“What? Are you crazy? They’ll edit the hell out of it and make me seem like the bully. I know what happens. Bullies always get the last laugh. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many situations where the bully won when it was their actions that….”

A tear started to well up in my eye.

Mary took hold of my hand and squeezed it gently. That little gesture made me feel a bit better.

“What if you were to tell your story and we had an agreement that it would be printed without editing?”

“What newspaper would do that? Certainly not any of the ‘comics’?”

Sue nodded her agreement.

“One of the quality papers owes me a favour. I could make a call if you are willing?”

“Will my not wanting to return to duty affect what happens?”

Sue shook her head.

“Not in the slightest. At least while I have any say in the matter. I fully appreciate that it will be difficult to return to normal duties. It is hard enough for officers who ‘come out’. I can’t imagine what it would be like for you after being undercover and all that.”

Then she addressed Mary.

“What about you Mary? It seems fairly obvious that the two of you have developed a relationship during this operation. What are you going to do?”

This was a very different ACC from what we had experienced before. I wondered if it was because there was now a serial killer under arrest and charged. That meant the pressure from the Mayor, the Home Secretary and most of the Media would be off her back for at least a while.

Mary looked a bit sad.

“We were just about to discuss this very thing when we made a somewhat hasty exit and came here.”

I looked expectantly at Mary.

“I’m with Tamara. This operation has opened my eyes and I think I’d like to be with her and …”

She took a deep breath before continuing.

“If she’d have me, I’d like to marry her.”

I was stunned. Someone had just asked me to get married.

Both of them were looking at me for an answer.

“I don’t know what to say,” I stuttered.

I looked at Sue for help. She was sitting back with a smug grin on her face but didn’t say anything.

I turned to Mary and looked her in the eye.

“If anyone had said to me when this first started then I’d have said that were barking mad. Now it just makes sense.”

I smiled at her.

“Yes. I accept.”

Then I leaned forward and kissed her.

- - -

We spent the night at the Hamilton’s home somewhere in deepest Surrey. After my acceptance of Mary’s proposal, Sarah cracked open a bottle of ‘bubbly’ and our hosts toasted the us. ACC Bishop departed soon after dawn to travel back to London and promised to report back the following day about her progress in calling in a favour in order to get my story out into the public domain in a controlled manner.

After breakfast, Sarah suggested to Mary that they go shopping. Our hasty departure from our place in Finchley had meant that our choice of clothes was very limited. Max had reported that there were quite a few members of the press camped out outside our now former place of residence and some replacement clothes were sorely needed.

I wanted to go but a quick scan of the websites of the ‘Red Tops’ showed my picture prominently on most of the front pages. My bright red hair would be a dead give-away. I resigned myself to changing its colour sooner rather than later. That was a bit disappointing, as I’d grown rather attached to it.

I left it to Mary to select a suitable colour for me. My only instructions were ‘anything but Blonde’. She’d laughed when I told her.

Sir Richard was in his office working on some project or other when I decided to make us some lunch. I poked my head around his office door to ask him if he wanted something.

He was on the phone but motioned for me to come on in.

He soon finished his call and gave me his full attention.

“I just wanted to know if you would like some Lunch. If I know Mary she’d drag your wife to be around every shop in town.”

He chuckled.

“Yes. I’d like some lunch.”

I turned to leave when he said,
“I wanted to talk to you... While the others are away.”

I was surprised at this and turned back towards him.

“If you want a job when all this is over then I’ll have one for you.”

I assumed that the offer was concerned with the one I’d been doing these past weeks.

“Thanks for the offer. I’m not sure if I’m cut out to be a receptionist.”

Richard laughed.

“I was thinking more about being my PA.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather.

“but… “

I tried to answer but for a few seconds, nothing would come out. Eventually, I managed to get my brain into gear.

“Thanks for the offer but I wouldn’t want to be any embarrassment to the company. My reputation…”

He held up his hand for me to stop.

“It was my wife who suggested that I make you the offer. I have had a chance to think about it and I think she is right. My current PA Bronwyn, has been talking about wanting a different role and one has come vacant that will suit her perfectly. That means I’ll need a new PA.”

Then he carried on,
“A couple of weeks ago, my PA did some asking around on the QT and it was evident from what she reported that you are a smart person. All the team on the front desk like you and… well, what you did to bring down that killer was way beyond the call of duty in my opinion. I need someone who can see beyond the norm, what is being shown to you and get to the bottom of things. The observational skills that you have as a Police Officer are ideal for my work. Being a PA is not only about organising my working life, it is being my second pair of eyes and ears. You would have an assistant based in London to do the run off the mill work such as organising travel and hotels.”

I was flabbergasted.

He continued.

“There will be a salary commensurate with the position plus a generous clothing allowance.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well don’t say anything. The offer is on the table. Talk things over with Mary and when all this has blown over and things are a bit quieter, let me know your decision.”

I made a hasty exit and literally ran into the kitchen and burst into tears.

All I could think of was ‘why are people being so nice to me?’ After years of being bullied and even assaulted because I didn’t fit in, this was just so out of the ordinary, I could not even start to think of an answer.

After a while, I’d recovered enough to make some lunch for myself and Sir Richard. I found some homemade bread in the kitchen and made us some sandwiches.

I took Sir Richard his helping hoping that I could leave it and escape back to the kitchen.

“I’d like to explain a bit more about the job if I may?”

“Thank you, Richard. I’d rather be alone at the moment if that’s all-right?”

He saw that I was firm in my decision.

“I understand but don’t hesitate to come and talk things over. Not everyone is an enemy or is out to make cheap points from you.”

He’d surprised me again.
“Thank you,” I managed to mumble.

I made another hasty exit back to the sanctuary of the kitchen and buried my head in my hands.

My inability to hold back the tears had always been seen by others as a sign of weakness. For years, I could never understand why I couldn’t take it like a man and keep the tears at bay. Instead I cried like a woman.

Not long after my 10th birthday, I realised that I should have been born a woman. For several years I’d been dressing up in my Mothers clothes in secret. One day my father caught me. It was only the intervention of my mother that had saved me from a beating from my father. He was old school. His father had beaten him when he’d done wrong and no law or interfering busybody was going to stop him from dishing out the same treatment to his son. Mum saved me from that but I had to go and see a shrink instead.

After the first appointment, I would rather have had the beating from my father but by the time the sessions were over, I knew my destiny. When my parents found out that I believed that I should have been born as a female, they blew their top. The next six years were terrible at home.

After that, I was never left alone for any length of time. This was all in the hope that I’d grow out of ‘my thing with women’s clothes.’ As soon as I was sixteen, my parents booted me out. In a small Lincolnshire farming community, something like being gay or even worse wanting to dress in women’s clothing was worse than getting foot and mouth disease. There was nothing more to it but to leave.

I moved in with my Aunt in Nottingham and went to school there. A school on a city council estate was even worse than the one in a rural backwater. I was bullied from the first day because of my sweet baby looks. For almost a year I let everyone assume I was gay. That worked until it was time for the Prom. That is one invention that I’d happily send back across the Atlantic and bury forever.

My pretending to being gay plan backfired big time. The one openly gay male in the school asked me to go to the prom as his date. I had to refuse. That had really gone down well with everyone else who accused me of hiding my sexuality and that I was really gay. In the end, I had to tell everyone that I was a transsexual. That really did it. Neither sexes could handle it. The rest of my time at school was absolute torture. Hardly a day would go by without some practical joke being played on me. Finally, I had to get permission to use the staff toilets because neither sex wanted to share theirs with me. I was an outcast to everyone. I’d taken up Martial Arts as a way of defending myself from the inevitable physical attacks that happened all too often.

After a while, the physical attackers got the message that I would fight back so they left me alone for a bit. Then sites like MySpace appeared and it all began again.

The fact that some people being kind to me was not something that I’d been used to. My sandwich became inedibleß due to all my tears dripping into it.

I don’t know how long I sat there wallowing in my depression. It was only interrupted by the return of Sarah and Mary from their shopping expedition.

Both of them waltzed into the kitchen full of beans. They took one look at me and my face and their mood changed in an instant.

“What’s up?” asked Mary.

“Nothing,” I mumbled.

“Don’t give me that,” demanded Mary.

I just looked down at the table.

“Did Richard tell about the job?”

I was starting to cry again. I managed to nod my head.

“I though you would be happy?”

I looked at her aghast.

“You knew?”

“Sarah told me while we were shopping.”

The tears were forming in my eyes again.

“Don’t cry. You should be happy?”

“I am. I’m just not used to people being kind to me.”

Mary came and sat down beside me and gave me a big hug.

“You are amongst friends here.”

I took her hand and squeezed it.

[to be continued]