Daniel turned the laptop towards his companion, “this is Stevie, she’s pretty don’t you think, Rani?” The woman beside him sniffed, inclining her head as though it was too great an effort to look at the computer’s screen.

“Remarkably,” she wrinkled her nose, “for what she is, am I to be jealous of your new kothi?”

“Of course not,” Daniel laughed, “she’s just a child, but a brave one.” He spun the laptop away from her, and carried on reading Stevie’s blog. Rani, however, would not let the subject rest.

“Your country is being kinder to hijiras than India,” her voice was insistent, “here she would be an outcast, disowned by her family to live her life untouchable. In England she has a house, a job protected by the government, and does not worry about the pointing fingers.”

“I think you’ll find she worries very much about them,” Daniel snorted, it hurt to have his homeland’s liberal attitudes thrown in his face. “Hijiras have a place in your culture, a thousand years of tradition, even tolerance of a kind,” Stevie might be half a world away, but Daniel knew that her path would be littered with obstacles any hijira would be familiar with.

“A whore is still a whore, whatever the tradition,” Rani was quick to anger, but Daniel knew she was not in the full fire of her temper.

“Is a tax collector any better?” Daniel feigned an innocent tone.

“Ha, my giriya, why do you bring this thing to our bed?” Rani picked up the laptop and placed it on the floor, “now let us enjoy our Sunday morning, as we should. See how I respect your traditions?”

“Admirably, as always my...” his words were lost in her kiss.

Stevie used her last scrap of roti to scoop up the remaining dal on her plate, “where did you learn to cook like this?” She licked her fingers with great relish as she finished her meal, “was it in India?”

“No, Birmingham mostly,” Stevie’s mystified expression was adorable, “I went to college there — balti houses everywhere - and once I had the taste, I tried making curries at home...” Penny gave her young guest a conspiratorial wink, “which left me more money for beer.” Stevie’s giggle was even more satisfying than her delight in Penny’s cooking.

“I usually just pop something in the microwave,” Stevie carried both their plates to the sink, “I think I get that from Mum.” Penny bit her lip, it was an ideal opening for a discussion about telling her parents, but for the first time in years felt unqualified to tell someone else how to live their life. Each passing day made more obvious the fact that Steve was not her true nature; obvious to everyone except Stevie, who still clung to the notion that she could return to a semblance of her former, hidden life.

As head of HR, Penny had contacts with several excellent counsellors better qualified to help Stevie, and yet she did not want to pass responsibility on as she would with any normal case; she had long since ceased thinking of the young woman, now elbow deep in hot, soapy water, as a ‘case’. Deciding it would be best to bide her time, she brushed aside her guest’s protests that she would do the washing up, and joined her at the sink. “When we finish up here, I’ll open a bottle of wine. Which do you prefer, red or white?”

“Like fine wine I only improve with age,” Bob fell back on the pillow, hands a folded under his head and a wide smile of satisfaction smeared from ear to ear.

“You can certainly keep the cork in the bottle longer than you used to,” Belinda’s acid tone was far from convincing, especially as her fingers were curled around Bob’s chest hair, “but then you had a lot of practice, at least before HR cracked down on harassment in the workplace.” She tweaked a hair from his nipple, making Bob wince.

“Water under the bridge, Bel,” Bob reached down to take her hand in his, “and you’ve not exactly been celibate either.”

“At least I can count on your not pouncing on the latest temp,” she teased, adding archly, “or can I?”

“Of course,” Bob patted her hand, “but honestly Bel if you’d had an arse like that I’d have married you twenty years ag...” the remainder of his sentence was stifled by his long suffering assistant hand, the two of them tussling playfully on the bed.

Something familiar butted against Belinda’s abdomen, “already?”

“Viagra,” Bob pulled her closer, “if we’re going to get you up the duff at my age, I’m going to need a little help.”

“You’re such an old romantic, you really are a... oh leave it darling,” Bob reached for his mobile on the nightstand, looked at the number calling, and switched off the phone. “Work?”

“Stevie’s father, probably wants a round of golf,” his hands had already found their way back around Belinda’s waist, “now where was I?”

Stevie stretched out on the sofa, the hand holding a wine glass trailing over its edge, and her head resting in Penny’s lap. “I would never have thought you were a Shrek fan.”

“Guilty pleasure, I love puss in boots,” Penny put on a cod Spanish accent for the last three words, teasing another giggle from her young guest, “I hope you didn’t think I’d left it in the machine on purpose.” Stevie had in fact, thought that very thing; Princess Fiona’s relationship with her parents seemed tailor-made to prompt another lecture on telling her parents, but the subject never came up. Fearing another might begin shortly, Stevie attempted to forestall it with an observation of her own.

“You’re a lot like Shrek,” she paused to let the comment sink in, “not green and scaly or anything, it’s just that in work you project a scary personality, but underneath it all you’re really lovely. ‘Ms Hawker’ is your ‘Steve’, ‘Penny’ is your me.” Stevie was quite pleased with her insight, and the acrobatic changes it had brought to her host’s expression, but then something happened for which she was completely unprepared. Lifting the girl’s head slightly, Penny gently placed a kiss on Stevie’s lips, holding it until the little brunette’s eyelids drooped, and her mouth began to open. “What was that for?”

“Being a minx,” Penny ran a finger through the reclining girl’s hair, “and being the only person brave enough to call me an ogre to my face.” She took a large sip from her glass, and Stevie followed suit.

“You’re not though, you’re...” Stevie blushed, she did not want to sound like a schoolgirl with a stupid crush, there were questions she needed answered before she made any declaration of that kind, “why did you keep touching me this week, you were touching my bum all the time?”

“I’m sorry I did that honey,” Penny pulled a goofy face, “the first time I thought you were making fun of women, and I wanted to teach you a lesson. After that, well...” Stevie remained silent, but her expression demanded she go on, “you have a really nice bottom, and I hadn’t touched one for a long, long time.” The head of HR swallowed another mouthful of wine, “it was wrong of me I know, so unprofessional, and it won’t happen again I promise.”

“You can touch it if you like, I don’t mind honest,” Stevie beamed.

“Don’t be silly,” Penny briefly considered taking up the offer, but hurriedly put those thoughts aside, “there are plenty of people your own age for that. I’m sure some of the girls in work are ready to throw themselves at you.” Although no one had communicated the desire directly to Ms Hawker, she had seen several significant looks thrown at the new girl, and not only by the women, “or perhaps some of the boys too; I bet Daniel Barrack’s thought about touching your bottom.”

“Wouldn’t that be kind of gay,” Stevie stammered.

“Not really,” when would she let Steve go and accept who she really was, “you’re a woman, he isn’t, where’s the problem?”

“I’ve never thought of boys like that, or girls really,” Steve had been so caught up with his feminine side, he had never dared date, in case Stevie gave herself away. Alison had been the closest he had been the nearest to being a girlfriend, but they had never done as much as hold hands.

“You’ll sort it all out, sweetie,” the older woman stroked Stevie’s cheek, “this is just the beginning, so there’s no rush — anyway, let’s get you into a nightie, it’s time for bed.”

Stevie stared up at the bear Penny had left on the nightstand, his name was Reginald apparently. Lying alone in the spare bedroom felt somewhat flat after such an exciting day; the more time she spent with Penny, the more she wanted to be with her. Nobody in the office would believe what incredible fun she was, the way she kept cracking terrible jokes, or letting slip minor details about herself, that gradually built up into a picture so very different from Ms Hawker. Yet there were things about her sterner personality that Stevie missed, though she would be reluctant to admit it. How could she be expected to sleep with so much confusion in her head?

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, Stevie swung her legs out from under the covers, and sat on the edge of the bed. She needed help to sort out everything that had happened to her these last few days, someone to talk to, who would understand what she was saying. Tentatively she crept from her room, and crossed the landing to the next door along.

Penny was already asleep, dashing any hope Stevie had of continuing their conversation. She hovered in the doorway, unsure if she should wake her, or wait until the morning. Stevie decided on the latter course, but did not return to her room. Carefully picking up her feet with every step, she made slow but steady progress to Penny's bed, and with only a moment’s reflection, slipped under the covers alongside her mentor.