“Don’t these,” Stevie pinched the denim shorts, “look slutty with tights and heels?” Any lingering doubts Penny may have had about Stevie, had been dispelled by the amount of time she had taken to select an outfit — to wear to the supermarket.

“Every woman under thirty looks slutty to me, honey,” Penny picked up her car keys, “loads of girls wore them to work last casual Friday, don’t you remember?”

Stevie shook her head, “Steve never goes in on casual Fridays; he doesn’t have a thing to wear,” she grinned sheepishly, “who wore this in then?”

“Kylie Watkins, for one — yes I know she’s a chav, don’t interrupt — and Sam Maynard she wore them too — she’s not a tart, she’s a lovely girl — c’mon Stevie, you look fine.” Stevie pushed her hands into her pockets, but followed Penny out into the street.

“Where’s your car?” Stevie looked up and down the road, but could not spot Ms Hawker’s grey BMW.

“Oh I don’t use Brenda on the weekends,” it was a little childish Penny knew, but she had named every car she had ever owned, “meet Mitzi.” She swept her arm out with a flourish, pointing to the trim, postbox-red roadster at the kerbside.

Stevie was still griping about using a trolley,”a basket’s big enough for my weekly shop, honest.”

“You need to stock up on things,” Penny dropped a kilo bag of pasta into their cart, waved away Stevie’s protests and added another, “Steve’s been starving you sweetie. Do you like brown or white rice?”

“I really don’t that much cooking,” what on Earth was she going to do with all this food?

“Good to hear,” Penny lightly punched Stevie’s arm, “we don’t want you adhering to outmoded gender stereotypes,” both types of rice followed the pasta, “but you have to eat.” On they rolled through the aisles, Stevie disputing the need for every item that Penny added to the trolley.

“Go to that one there,” Stevie pointed to a checkout already groaning under, what looked like the provisions for a Waltons’ Christmas. At least she had stopped sulking about missing out the clothing section, Penny steered the heavily laden shopping cart towards the queue Stevie had indicated. With everything stacked on the conveyor, Stevie picked up a Mars bar from the counter display, and placed it at the top of the pile.

“What did I tell you about chocolate young lady? You’ll end up like me,” the stout checkout assistant puffed out her cheeks for emphasis.

“It’s OK,” Stevie made her best innocent face, “it’s for my friend — all she eats is rice and pasta.”
Penny was still laughing as they wheeled their groceries through the exit. Nobody cracked jokes at the HR chief’s expense, and yet someone at the very bottom of the corporate ladder was doing just that. Every moment Penny spent with Stevie was a joy, and strengthened her resolve to make amends for the harm she had already done.

“Hi Stevie, have you decided yet?”

“Who was that?” Penny looked around expecting a familiar face from work, but found only strangers.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Stevie opened her chocolate bar, and took a full quarter of it in one bite.

Penny turned into Stevie’s road, slowing to a crawl as another car had parked in the space closest to her flat. “It’s busy in here...”

“Stop the car!” Penny looked down into the foot well where her passenger had ducked, “that’s my Mum and Dad’s car, don’t let them see me!” Penny speeded past the green Jaguar, and into the next street, where she pulled over.

“That was close,” Stevie emerged from hiding with a broad grin.

“You’re going to have to tell them soon or later, Stevie,” Penny brushed the girl’s hair from her eyes, “it’s too big a thing to keep quiet.”

“I’ve done OK so far,” Stevie fidgeted uneasily in her seat, “I just have to do another week, and everything’s back to normal.”

“You can’t go...” Penny did not finish her sentence; the car was no place to discuss it. Stevie’s insistence that she could return to her double life baffled her. She would have to pick her moment carefully; it would be difficult convincing Stevie that her future happiness, so obviously depended on living as woman. “How about we get some lunch in town, and have a look round the shops?”

“Clothes shops?”

Bob Thornwell had been in all four of the town’s jewellers twice that afternoon, and was well along the road to losing patience with his — secret - bride-to-be, “it’s a bit extravagant isn’t? After all, it will only be a short engagement.”

“Nineteen years is hardly a short engagement, darling,” Belinda watched Bob wince at the irony with which she pronounced the endearment, “and you wouldn’t want everyone thinking you’re a cheapskate.” Not for the first time that day, Bob wondered if he could get to stand in a corner, in their new home; he doubted it very much.

“It’s not like you’ll be able to show it to anyone, not until we’ve sorted you out in another department,” he realised his tone had shifted into wheedling; it might get him an extra biscuit with his coffee, but he had no illusions about it working, when there was a tray of rings on the counter.

“I think I preferred the sapphire one in the last place.” Bob groaned, and turned wearily for the exit.

“Is that Uncle Bob?” Stevie was bearing up well, given how busy the shopping centre was, and cheered up considerably when she spotted other young women dressed as she was; although all were pronounced chav, tart, slapper and mutton-dressed-as-lamb.

“Where?” Penny turned a fraction too late to see Miss Hanford’s put-upon fiancé, slope away into the crowds. “Don’t look,” she nudged Stevie, “but them boys is checking out your fine, fine booty.” Her companion cringed as all teenagers do, when the aged attempt to ape their ways.

“Um maybe like they um sort of think like that you’re like a MILF or someting.” Penny permitted herself a small preen, when Stevie explained the acronym, but knew that if anyone was being letched at, it was the nymph beside her.

“Oi Stevie,” both turned involuntarily at the shout, the group of teenage boys were waving madly, “Stevie, you is a babe, man!” Chavs the lot of them, as if she would know anyone like that. Stevie slipped her hand in Penny’s and followed her into the department store.

The change in Ms Hawker’s personality was incredible; something of an eminence grise within the company, Penny had shown an altogether different side in the last twenty-four. Like a young aunt, or even an older sister, she whisked Stevie along, joking at each step. Some suspicions remained, how could they not after the events of only a few days earlier, but those memories were fading rapidly, and some were taking on a new light.

“You need to try some of these on,” Penny said, from behind a mound of hangers, “the fitting rooms are over there.”

“I can’t go in there,” Stevie hissed through the massed garments, “I usually bring them back if something doesn’t fit.” Already worried by the sheer amount of items Penny had picked out for her, the prospect of being discovered in a women’s changing area, brought her to the verge of panic.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” the two of them had squeezed into a cubicle, “try these on first,” Penny held up a pair of black knee-length shorts, “you can show off your legs without flashing your knickers.”

“Thanks,” the shorts she had been wearing lay in a puddle around her feet, “are these OK for the dress code?”

“If they’re not I’ll rewrite it, you are a bit of a special case, honey,” there were a few advantages to running HR. She flashed Stevie a quick grin, “just don’t turn up in the pink dress I saw in your wardrobe.”

“That was one of the first things I bought,” Stevie blushed to match it, “it’s awful isn’t it?”

“We’ve all got skeletons in our closets,” Penny held Stevie’s shoulders while she stepped out of the black shorts, “try the skirt next, I know it’s short for work, but you really should show off those smashing legs of yours. They put Sam Maynard’s to shame.”

“I really can’t accept all these, Penny,” it had taken a while for Stevie to become comfortable using the older woman’s name, but by the time they had left the cramped fitting room, they were fast friends. Friendships can, however, be too one sided and Stevie was alarmed by the amount of clothes they carried towards the checkout.

Penny smiling, fished into her bag, “don’t worry about it,” and with a flourish waved a company credit card under her companion’s nose, “you’re a legitimate HR expense. Sorry if that sounds a bit impersonal.”

“You’ll look fabulous in these, Stevie, wish I’d been in the fitting rooms” the assistant winked confidentially, “I can’t wait to see the pictures.”

“Sorry,” Stevie looked at her, trying to remember where they had met before, school perhaps, “where do I know you from?”

“Oh you don’t know me,” she dropped the receipt into the last bag, “someone on Facebook sent me the address for your blog. We’re all hoping you decide to stay a girl, no one’s going to believe I met you.”

“I’m sure she’ll mention your name in the blog, err...” Penny peered at the young woman’s name tag, “Ashley.” To their mutual amazement, the assistant began jumping up and down, squealing.

“It’s just an internet thing, “Penny took the junction leading to Stevie’s street faster than she intended, and was forced to dab the brakes, “it’ll blow over quickly enough.”

“What about that fat kid with the light sabre,” Stevie chewed nervously on a lock of her hair, “I heard he committed suicide.”

“I don’t think that’s oh...” the green Jaguar was still parked outside Stevie’s flat, two figures clearly visible in its front seats, “your parents are pretty persistent aren’t they?”

“Oh yes,” Stevie crouched beneath the door, “they’ll stay there forever. What are we going to do?”

Penny shifted up a gear, “I think you’ll have to stay at mine tonight.”