A Crumb-free Christmas
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It is now the 2nd November. but the shops are already bedecked with all the toys, food and decorations for Christmas. Perhaps time to put pen to paper for the Christmas story. As always, I am not fussed about the story being a formal entry to the contest, but I hope readers will enjoy the story, and it may act as a prompt for other people to join in and make an entry.
A Crumb-free Christmas
Part One - Charlotte’s Story
Charlotte, the accountant had had a busy year. In January the urge to transform herself from Charles to Charlotte became a necessity, rather than an urge. Visits to various specialists who prodded and poked, and discussed her ‘problems’ in great detail had resulted in handfuls of pills, and some breast implants.
The change was noticed by the office staff in July, and she had been applauded by her work colleagues, and was helped by her female co-workers when all the appurtenances of being a woman didn’t quite work out. Several female friends had helped her blow her modest savings on a new wardrobe of autumn and winter clothes. Charlotte didn’t know how she would be able to afford a spring wardrobe, but she already knew where all the charity shops were who might be able to help.
Now it was the week before Christmas. The office was bedecked with holly, mistletoe and greetings cards. Her ‘new’ status was really no longer noticed by her work colleagues. She was Charlotte as if she had always been Charlotte, but none of the male staff gave her a kiss under the mistletoe. She noticed that and it did hurt a bit.
The office would be closed for ten days over the Christmas period. No one wanted their tax affairs sorted or their books completed for the year, before the new year had started.
“Are you going home for Christmas?” several colleagues asked sincerely.
“Probably”, was the non-committal answer that she normally gave.
In fact Charlotte had not told her parents until the change in her shape and hair made the reveal inevitable. The phone call to her parents was difficult to say the least. The speaker phone was on and whilst her mother was reluctant, her father was absolutely furious and said he was revolted. Charles either had to come to his senses or ‘he’ would never be accepted at his parents home again.
Two weeks later Charlotte had her hair done, and had her nails and cosmetics done professionally before getting on the train to see if meeting her parents face-to-face would be any better. Perhaps seeing her happy for the first time in years would make them realise just how important the transformation was for her.
She walked confidently from the station in a tailored tan skirt suit, with a pale pink blouse and matching necklace, ear rings and bracelet.
She never got past the front door. Her father spotted he coming up the short path from the road and opened the door to her only to call her an abomination, a curse, and an insult to him and his male forebears back to biblical times.
“If you come back here again as anything other than Charles I shall beat some sense into you. My belt was used on you as a child and I will use it on you as an adult if I need to. Now go away and never come back.”
Of course, Charlotte sobbed all the way back to the station.
People on the train looked on sympathetically as she sobbed for much of the journey back to London.
Her tears were over by the time she got onto the Underground for the final part of the journey, but the expensive make-up was all smeared, and she had had to remove it in the Ladies restroom at the mainline station.
Now three months further on, there had been no contact with her parents. If she rang, the phone went straight to voicemail. Eventually her phone number was blocked.
She texted her mother and had one curt reply that her father would beat her mother if she knew that she and Charlotte had been in contact. There was no further contact, and she had no siblings.
So it was that the office party was over, the streamers and artificial Christmas tree with its baubles was put away by the cleaners. All the staff had flooded out into the night intent on sharing a groaning table of Christmas fare with family and friends. Charlotte waved wistfully to the last of them and caught the Underground to her home station, then walked the few hundred yards to the apartment block where she lived.
She had already made the preparations for the holiday season. These consisted of a tiny dressed artificial tree. It was only a foot tall and the base had slots for two AA batteries that made the small number of LEDs glow with at least a modicum of festive cheer.
The tiny chicken, little more than a pullet, lay in its foil tray and in another foil tray of prepared mixed vegetables there were two small parsnips, three Brussel sprouts and two partly roast potatoes. The sachet of bread sauce was to be microwaved at the last minute!
A Christmas pudding for one, was in its foil bowl the size of a teacup, together with the ubiquitous sachet of long-life brandy cream.
The individual portion of Stilton cheese wrapped in festive foil, three Cream Crackers in a cellophane wrapper and a tiny bottle of tawny port completed her meal.
It is difficult to judge how it was that supermarkets provided a full Christmas dinner for one person. It was really an insult to the whole idea of Christmas, but who can blame them for answering a need. One is lead to believe that so many people live alone, and maybe this is the best that such people can expect.
It wasn’t the best that Charlotte could expect. She desperately wanted a loving home and family. She wanted to share the womanhood that was blossoming from within her. Yet here she was. Isolated, lonely and tearful looking at a cardboard tube that had once held the foil dishes. ‘Christmas dinner for One’ it said, and every word felt like a dagger that pierced her heart.
“Where is the person who will love me?” She said aloud.
The walls of the small apartment did not answer.
She turned the radio on and the Christmas Carols provided wall-to-wall reinforcement of her status as a person alone.
The TV was no better. Lots of programs intended to occupy small children while their parents wrapped presents as if from Father Christmas. Subsequently there was a diet of Christmas films that had been repeated so often over the years. Watching ‘The Holiday’ or ‘The Snowman’ was almost a ritual in some households, but they just emphasised Charlotte’s status.
In the end she watched a RomCom from one of the streaming services. It wasn’t a blockbuster, but it occupied the time until it would be bedtime.
A movement caught Charlotte’s eye as she watched the mediocre movie. A small thin brown mouse walked purposefully over to Charlotte’s discarded meal. It remained on a plate on the floor beside her chair, and began to eat a little of what she had left. When her cheeks were full, she walked off in the opposite direction and disappeared under a chest of drawers.
Some minutes later she re-emerged, and there were damp patches on her abdomen and chest so it was clearly a ‘she’ and this particular ‘she’ was feeding babies.
“It is too late for me to get any live mouse traps or poison now, so we are going to have to get along until the hardware shops open again.”
After three trips across the floor, the mouse walked over to the plate and had some food for herself then sat on her haunches and proceeded to give herself a wash.
“I think you know that you are safe until next week. Something about the Spirit of Goodwill that penetrates even the mouse and her family’s World.
The mouse stayed close to Charlotte for some minutes and Charlotte found the presence of the little animal, a comfort in her loneliness. When the mouse wandered off back to her babies Charlotte felt her absence acutely.
“I shall leave you a couple of crumbed biscuits for the night. I know that you are probably full of nasty diseases and are not house trained, but we need to live together for a few days at least.”
In the morning, the rain was coming down. It was not ‘the snow lying deep and crisp and even’ of the Christmas Carol. Charlotte thought she might get dressed and go down to the Jewish shop two streets away, They would be open, as they didn’t keep Christmas. The shop would be packed with people trying to get all the things that had been forgotten in the mad rush over the days before. She would buy a small bar of chocolate for herself, and some bird seed for the mouse and her family.
Several people looked out of the hoods of their coats to wish Charlotte a ‘Happy Christmas’ as they all trudged through the rain. As expected, the small shop was crowded, but Charlotte emerged some minutes later with a few more ‘Happy Christmases’. One comment said it all. “Bloody British Weather!”
On her way back though the rain she wondered whether to go to a Christmas morning service at the local parish church, but she hadn’t been for years, and didn’t believe in God or any of that stuff. It seems hypocrisy to go, just because she had nothing better to do and was feeling lonely.
When she got back the mouse was sitting in her normal place, and seemed to be waiting for her food. Charlotte tipped a teaspoon full of seed into a jar lid and the mouse set about the seed with enthusiasm and carted off mouthfuls over the next few minutes. She then, once again ate a little herself and settled down close to Charlotte for a full ten minutes, before going back to her babies.
It was strange how comforting the presence of the small animal became and even the scattering of LEDs on the tiny artificial tree glowed with a message of Hope, or so it seemed.
“I must make sure that you have not chewed up my clothes to make a nest”, she said aloud and shortly afterwards the mouse walked back to her nest at the bottom of a chest of drawers. The nest was clearly made of an old tea towel and some disposable wipes.
“You can have those.” she said with purpose.
Inside the nest, Charlotte counted eight tiny naked pink mice all snuggled together to keep warm. The mother rearranged the bedding then covered them with her body and the display was clearly over.
“I cannot kill eight tiny babies like that, and yet I cannot be overrun with mice. I must get a live trap and then take the babies with me when I release the mother somewhere safe… and yet these are house mice rather than field mice. I cannot just go down to the local Recreation Ground and release them, they will die from the cold and wet.”
A quick browse of the Internet made it clear that the mice needed to be released at least two miles away from Charlotte’s home or they may find their way back. They also needed to be released in a dry place with a little food to keep them going.
The weather was foul and likely to remain so for some days. Charlotte racked her brains about what to do with her small charges, and eventually decided to ring an animal shelter nearby.
It seemed that there was little call for the animal shelter’s services on Christmas day and when a young sounding male voice answered the 24-hour phone service, he seemed to be happy to talk.
“Yes, house mice could be released after treating for various diseases but they often had a display of house mice in the entry lobby to show visiting primary school children how the animals lived. They had had a bit of a disaster of late and the display was currently empty.
The voice at the other end of the phone was called Michael and they chatted for a while.
“If you are at a loose end on Christmas Day, why don’t you bring the mice here and we can start the process of making sure that they have no diseases. We only have a skeleton staff on today, and we could show you round.”
In the end it was decided that a glass bowl with a lid could be fitted out with food and bedding for the short journey to the animal shelter.
Charlotte threw off the clothes she lounged around the apartment and got ready to face the weather with a warm plaid skirt, ribbed tights and a jumper over her shirt.
It was surprisingly easy to catch the little mouse under a jam jar, and then her babies were scooped up by hand and added to the glass bowl before the lid was taped on.
Michael welcomed them in when Charlotte rang the door bell. He took charge of the bowl and returned a minute or two with the empty container in its carrier bag.
He was indeed, young. Perhaps five or more years younger than Charlotte. He was slim and had a mass of tousled blond hair partly trapped under a peaked cap. The green overalls and Wellingtons hid what might have been a well toned body, but Charlotte could not tell.
“Come and have a cup of tea, and I will give you a guided tour of the sanctuary. It isn’t very big, but we get a lot of call to take kittens and puppies after Christmas. People believe that baby rabbits and Guinea Pigs make suitable surprise Christmas presents. They don’t!”
Michael was confident even though he was young. He lived for those sick and dependent animals. Each one they visited was named, and comforted before they moved on. The cages were opened with a reverence for the often compromised life they contained.
After several rooms of animals had been visited under the still glowering skies, Michael offered Charlotte a cup of tea in the staff room. Even here there were small animals being cared for when they couldn’t be left. Tiny bundles of life that retained their connection to the living world by a thread. Annie and Jane were both volunteers who had offered to do the Christmas Day shift, but most of the cleaning and feeding had been done now, and the animals could be left overnight. They were donning winter coats, hats and gloves to brave the winter night and rain as the daylight faded a little after 4pm.
Michael finished making the tea as they two women left.
“Are you happy to hold the fort until Aubrey comes at 9pm?” Annie asked. Aubrey was the night watchman. A volunteer of many years service. Widowed a decade ago and the refuge had filled a void in his life.”
Charlotte sat in the small room on a hard chair with a white Formica table between her and Michael. The table had been scrubbed so many times that the surface was wearing thin and the whole room smelled of antiseptic. The chairs were a bit rickety, but adequate. She felt comfortable in his presence, but didn’t know why? Perhaps it was because of his care for the animals or perhaps because there was some sort of chemistry between them.
“How is it that you have not gone home for Christmas?”
How much should she say?, she wondered.
“My parents and I do not get on.”
“I don’t understand how someone so thoughtful could be alienated from her family?
Something in Charlotte’s psyche clicked and she told him everything.
The ache of uncertainty throughout her childhood. In her teenage years how she began to understand who she ought to have been. The inescapable hurt she had suffered through her parents’ intransigence and refusal to understand, and the schism that had been wrought by her transition. It all came out. The search for a sympathetic doctor to begin the treatment that allowed her to pass as a woman. The shame she still felt for what remained between her legs, which she refused to name.
Michael listened attentively and only when her sobs had made further talking impossible, did he hold her in his arms and just hug her until all the sadness had abated … at least for the time being.
“I am sorry to have burdened you with all my misery.” Charlotte managed to say after some minutes.
“Think nothing of it. I am glad to be a listening ear. Isn’t that one of the reasons that Christmas is so important. It gives us time to recalibrate our thoughts and emotions.
“I just had a thought. I have a very tiny ‘Christmas dinner for One’, in my fridge. It only takes 30 minutes cooking time. Would you like to come and share it? It will not be much, but it is festive I suppose.”
“I have a bag of food that I bought yesterday still in the fridge here. Let me add to your ‘Christmas Dinner for One’ “.
Michael rummaged through a carrier bag in a fridge that that had a label “Human Food Only” in large red letters on the door.
They left the Sanctuary in the care of Aubrey when he arrived and walked arm in arm the several hundred yards to Charlotte’s small apartment.
Michael opened a bottle of red wine that happened to be in his carrier bag, and Charlotte busied herself making the most of the pre-prepared Christmas Dinner. In fact the dinner and the extras that were in Michael’s bag created a meal that left them both satisfied.
“Where do you have to go, to get home, Michael?”
“I cannot get home this late on Christmas Day. I was hoping that I might be able to sleep here.”
“If I was a normal woman I would enjoy that, but I am not, and I only have one bed as you can see.”
“Let me say that I have catholic tastes, and I would enjoy what you have, if you will allow me to enjoy your bed with you.”
“I think I would enjoy that as long you will not be revolted.”
“I have enjoyed sex with men as much as with women. You strike me as a perfect companion as you are.”
“This is new to me so you must tell me what you enjoy. I know it sounds a bit forced to discuss what we like and don’t like, but under the circumstances being pragmatic may be best.”
As Midnight chimed on the town hall clock they moved to the bed and Michael slowly undressed Charlotte, kissing each part as he exposed it. She found that her nipples were wonderfully sensitive and a thrill passed through her as he nibbled her ear lobes.
She reminisced briefly. Years ago the coarse fabric of her Rugby shirt used to make her nipples very sore and she had to wear sticking plasters over each one during Rugby matches to avoid very obvious erect nipples. She remembered being embarrassed when this aroused a prurient interest in the other boys.
When it was her turn, the Sanctuary sweatshirt and Tee-shirt were lifted off and she reciprocated by kissing the lightly muscled chest with its distribution of fine hair.
He lifted himself off the bed to allow her to pull his jeans and briefs down and his erection sprang to attention.
Charlotte nodded when Michael asked if he could remove her jogging bottoms and underwear.
He was very gentle, but her tumescence was very obvious after the garments had been drawn over her feet. The clothes fell, crumpled, where they were. A little clutter of discarded anxieties.
Michael did not wait for long before taking her engorged member in his mouth and wrapping his tongue around the tip.
She curled round and began to reciprocate Michael’s ministrations until first one, then the other came to a resounding climax with an audible sigh.
They snuggled, kissing and fondling together until both were fully aroused once more.
Charlotte reached over to her bedside cabinet find some lubricant and presented herself to Michael.
“I will be gentle.” he said.
It wasn’t long before both were exhausted and collapsed into each other’s arms before dropping off to sleep.
The morning broke with watery sunshine. Both remembered that it was a bank holiday and they could take their time getting up.
It was mid-day before they arose, comfortable in their nakedness. Touching and being touched intimately was now normal, but hunger got the better of them and Michael made the trip to the ever-open Jewish shop to buy food for breakfast and the makings of a meal later.
He stripped off when he returned and the now couple were happiest skin to skin.
“What shall we do today?” Charlotte asked, as they shared the last croissant that had been dunked with due ceremony; then eaten in the nick of time before it disintegrated.
“Are you serious? I just want to spend the day in bed with you.” … and he stretched over and put his hand on a breast and gave the nipple a gentle rub between his fingers.
She sighed. “I wish I could be a real woman for you.”
“I don’t. I think you are just perfect as you are.”
… And she snuggled up to him and they shared the crumbs from the croissants from each other’s lips.
“Now we must give our teeth a clean. I don’t want croissant crumbs getting in awkward places.”
Michael laughed “Point taken!” After that we can enjoy the rest of our Christmas break free of crumbs.
“How long a break do you have?”
A pillow hit him on the chest.
“You will be exhausted before I have to go back to work on January 2nd.”
“You just try me.”
“I intend to.”
In her head she desperately wanted to ask if Michael would or could love her. She desperately wanted to be loved, but the question was left hanging and she lacked the courage to ask. “Too soon” she said to herself. “Wait. You only met him yesterday. You don’t know anything about him. He may already be married or have a criminal record as long as your arm (as the saying goes) or be hugely jealous and beat up his girlfriends?”
“Tell me about yourself, Michael. I don’t know anything about you except that you are devoted to animals at the shelter.”
After a moment to collect his thoughts Michael began. After the best part of an hour listening attentively, Charlotte realised that Michael was just as vulnerable as she was, perhaps more so. Her heart went out to him. They would just have to nurture each other, but yes, there was Hope of Love, that Christmas!
Part 2
Michael’s story
Christmas Day provided a long shifts to cover at work. Work meant looking after animals at the shelter in the town. It was an old factory with a large yard at the rear. The owner gave the charity who ran the shelter the use of the building and yard for a token sum each year.
The Charity ran on a shoestring. Most of the staff were volunteers. Michael as a trained veterinary nurse, and a part-time finance officer were the only paid staff. Even the director was a local businesswoman who gave up some of her free time to carry out such administration as was needed.
The animals came in, and some went out. Those that left were often re-homed, or went back home after their ailments were cured. Many were too injured to recover and it was left to Michael as a person authorised by the veterinarians who visited the Shelter, to administer euthanasia.
Michael typically worked 100 hours a week. It was not unheard of for him to do 120 hours in the days after Christmas when unwanted pets flooded in; or when the Police brought in pathetic animals, dogs for the most part, that had been neglected or abused or both.
There was no room for a social life in such a lifestyle. The excessive workload masked and buffered him against his past. The animals were not censorious and there was a never-ending need for the care he could offer.
In the couple of days after Christmas, Michael often ended up at a bit of a loose end. The flood of unwanted pets hadn’t started, and the lower than normal traffic left fewer animals injured. He didn’t like too much time to dwell on his past, so the call from the woman with a litter of wild mice was a welcome distraction. She had a catch in her voice that Michael had found attractive and he had wondered what she looked like.
The two women volunteers, Annie and Jane looked at the couple as Michael brought Charlotte into the staff room. When they left for their tour of the shelter, the volunteers both raised their eyebrows in that questioning look that says. “There is something afoot.”
Michael did not find his return to a drab bed-sitter to sit out the bad weather, an attractive prospect and being able to show Charlotte round the refuge was a pleasure. She seemed knowledgeable and he hoped that he might be able to encourage her to become a volunteer.
As they toured the building and handled some of the animals, their hands touched briefly on several occasions. Michael felt a tingle that emboldened him a little. When Charlotte suggested sharing their meagre meals his heart gave a flutter and he was delighted to accept.
As they walked through the drizzle of that night Michael thought of an actress that he had once had a crush on. She had the same dark hair that Charlotte had, and the same sexy, slightly gravelly voice. For the moment he could not remember her name, but then it came to him in a moment’s inspiration. Fenella Fielding!
“I wonder what happened to her, he wondered.”
Who do you wonder about, came the reply?”
He hadn’t intended to speak, but the question came to his lips unbidden, as it were.
“Oh, there was an actress many years ago that I rather fancied. She appeared in various low budget films of the sixties, and I believe that she appeared on stage in serious works like those of Ibsen and Chekhov. You remind me of her.”
“I assume that she is a ‘was’, rather than an ‘is’? Who was she?
“I think she may still be alive in her 80s or 90s. Her name is Fenella Fielding.
“Oh I remember her in some of the ‘Carry On Films.’ Her voice was very suggestive. I take it as a compliment that you think I am like her.”
“I think you look like her, but I see in you more as the pragmatic accountant, rather than the intellectual soufflé that she offered to the public. I haven’t thought of her for years. I must look her up to see what happened to her.”
“I have internet access at home, so we can look her up together.”
“Ok, perhaps there will be a sound recording of her so you can see what I mean.”
Michael noted that Charlotte slipped her arm through his, during this encounter.
The foot high dressed Christmas tree was turned upside down to switch on the LED lights and show off the miniature baubles. It gave a warm glow in the small flat and a semblance of Christmas spirit.
Charlotte took Michael’s coat and their lips brushed. He helped her with her coat and their lips brushed once more.
“I could enjoy getting into a habit of kissing” Charlotte said with a giggle, then danced away to busy herself in the kitchen making the best of the sundry items from their two Christmas dinners.”
It was rather later when they sat at Charlotte’s laptop and looked up the details of Fenella Fielding’s life.
“You see how she speaks. You are the same. Her voice is low in a woman’s register and sultry. Often there is sexual innuendo even when she is speaking completely innocuously.”
They listened to an archive recording of Fenella on Desert Island Discs with Roy Plomley and Michael allowed his hand to rest on Charlotte’s inner thigh. She spread her legs ever so slightly to accommodate him.
They both remembered seeing the surreal cartoon, ‘Dougal and the Blue Cat’. Fenella was the voice of the cat. Her delivery was unforgettable, and the cartoon had stood the test of time even though it was fifty years old.
Michael nuzzled Charlotte’s neck and his hands strayed. Both breasts were quickly freed from their bra cups. She kissed him deeply as he rubbed each nipple quite roughly between his thumb and forefinger. A growl emerged from her throat as the nubbins became fully erect.
Knowing that he could not get home that late on Christmas Day, Michael was emboldened enough to suggest staying over, and the consequences of that do not need explaining. He just thought to himself that it was so refreshing to be able to be plain and simple with another person. No shilly-shallying about with risqué suggestions that could be misunderstood, and tentative suggestive touches that could be repelled. Charlotte called a ‘spade a spade’ and they tumbled into bed together knowing that what was inevitable now, was with full consent.
In the morning Michael woke with a warm body next to his own. He knew that he would have to visit the sanctuary for at least a couple of hours during the day but he could afford the time to have a leisurely breakfast with Charlotte.
With no clean clothes, Michael had to dress in his old ones, but the Jewish shop was not far and he could cope until after breakfast before he needed to go home, change and attend the sanctuary.
They ate fresh croissant and pain au chocolat with strawberry jam that oozed out as each bit into their pastries. Charlotte had coffee pods and the back coffee washed the crumbs down well.
“I will be back at about 5pm”, he said, as Michael left the apartment on his way home to a shower and a change of clothes.
“Can I come to the shelter as well?”
“Sure, come any time after 10:30. There are certain to be some new customers on Boxing Day.”
Charlotte danced round the small apartment and dressed ready for some messy, and possibly smelly work. Old jeans and a roomy comfortable jumper, plus a padded gilet that had seen better days. She arrived at 10:30 and the locked door opened to a smiling Michael, who gave her a hug and a kiss.
“Welcome” he said.
“Ready to get a bit grubby. We have a kitten in who has a skin infection. She is in an awful state and is infested with fleas as well. It will take some time to clean her up and apply some salve to the itchy bits.”
The kitten was in a parlous state with a weeping eye that was half closed. Her fur was matted and her skin was very sore from the flea bites.
Michael showed Charlotte how to bathe the animal in treatment lotion and then how to comb out the nits afterwards. It took over an hour before the little animal could be put into a cage for a rest. Her fur was thin over her haunches and Michael thought it would be about a month before she could be spayed and then re-homed.
Even on a national holiday the small team at the sanctuary were kept busy and it was not until early evening that Michael and Charlotte could escape from their very needy patients.
“I will buy you dinner.” said Michael. “It is the least I can do after you spending all day helping here.”
“I know you haven’t got much of a wardrobe available, and we both need a shower. Perhaps it would be better to have a ‘Chinese takeaway’ delivered?”
“I prefer Indian, but a takeaway does sound a good idea.”
“Lets order on the Sanctuary computer, then it will be delivered shortly after we get back to your home.”
Michael and Charlotte found that they both liked Chicken Jalfrezi and Pilau rice. With popadoms crumbled over their platefuls they were soon sated and reached out for the remote for the television. Seeing nothing on the main channels they decided to watch a Christmas Romcom that was being streamed.
In fact they had both dozed off on the sofa long before the story had finished. That didn’t matter, as they had both seen the film before. It was one of those films that reappears every Christmas and always warms the cockles of one's heart!
2024-11-02 11:22:28 -0400
A Crumb Free Christmas +2
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Charlotte and Michael continue with their lives and now, two years on it is Christmas time once more and change is in the air!
A Crumb Free Christmas - Two years on
Let me see now …
“Why are you sitting in front of me without any clothes on?”
“It is warm in here and clothes make me uncomfortable. What is wrong with being naked?”
“I suppose it is a sort of convention that we wear clothes, at least to absorb anything getting onto the furniture. I understand that naturists carry a small piece of towelling that they sit on in case of problems.”
“You will be the last person who is not my surgeon, who will see me with my male appendages. They will be in the bin tomorrow. Have wanted to get that done since I was eight, but have had to save for these last two years to cover the fees.”
“I think your boobs have been a great success. I know that it is difficult to get them looking natural. Implants always seem to look a bit like pudding basins stuck on with Superglue, but yours are amongst the best I have seen.”
“I love them and the sensations in my nipples are very stimulating. They got me very aroused recently even though the hormones are supposed to dampen down what remains of my male feelings.”
“I know, I was there if you remember. We were in the shower together. I think I enjoy your boobs as much as you do.”
“So what is wrong with me being naked if you enjoy my nakedness as much as I do.”
“OK, so I enjoy seeing you naked, but I have to go to work soon and I don’t want to be walking along with blue balls.”
“Have we got time to do something about your blue balls?”
“I don’t have to leave for 20 minutes. Can you help in that time?”
“Just think of my new vagina that I can use when everything is healed.”
“I have been thinking about your new vagina for as long as we have been talking about you going through gender reassignment.”
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
“My God, you are good with your tongue.”
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
“Thank you kind Sir. It is my nature to please!”
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
“Are you all packed up to get to the clinic?”
“Yes, all packed and ready for the taxi at 11:30. Am expected to complete the paperwork by 1pm and then it is the final practical details like clearing me out with a drink that acts as scouring powder for my insides, then doing blood tests and so on. Surgery is planned for 6am tomorrow as you know.”
“I will visit straight after work tomorrow. Flowers or grapes?”
“Neither, thank you. Just have a meal before coming. I don’t want to listen to your stomach grumbling all the way through the visit.”
I have enough clothes for a week, but if I have to stay in longer I will need my second bag, and you will have some clothes washing to do.”
“I reckon that I will cope with that. Where are those mesh lingerie washing bag thingies?”
“Oh, in my top drawer on the left. There are four of them. Two are shaped for washing bras, and two are for other delicates. Only wash at 30℃ and no biological powder! … you can keep the biological powder for your overalls that always seem to get covered by unmentionable products of your animals at the Refuge.”
Charlotte kissed Michael when he was on the point of leaving, then ran a bath to have a soak for the last time for several weeks. She shaved her legs, and armpits and gave a cursory scrape to her chin and upper lip that still sported a downy moustache even with the two years of hormone treatment.
“Will have to work hard to save up for more electrolysis, she said silently to herself. Body hair will not go well with my new image!”
Charlotte thought back to the first interview at the clinic where the surgeon said that she needed to have all her pubic and groin hair removed by electrolysis before surgery could take place. Charlotte hadn’t known this but had been to a private clinic monthly where her groin area was made hair free. Her hair had softened once the female hormones had started to have an effect but it was still difficult to bare all in front of the technician who did the work.
Her travelling outfit was loose and comfortable, a calf length winter dress with an elasticated waist. She had been warned to have compression underwear for the journey home after she had been discharged, but there were several pairs of girl jockeys in the case for other times. No more of the shaped underwear that hid her manhood behind pads designed to give a passable imitation of camel feet even in tight jeans.
A pair of deep pink trainers and similarly coloured socks finished her ensemble.
Only 20 minutes after sitting and looking at the clock did the taxi honk to attract her attention. She skipped down the stairs and into the fresh air, full of anticipation and more than a few nerves. The journey was a full 40 minutes through the London never-ending traffic and the view was very familiar and hardly worth noticing.
Charlotte was left to her own thoughts during the journey. What would it feel like when she awoke from the anaesthetic? How well would the staff control her pain? It was a quite common procedure nowadays. She remembered reading the autobiography of Jan Morris, one of the early pioneers of transgender surgery where the outcome was far less sophisticated than Charlotte could expect, then there was an episode of a TV programme where naked people chose each other for a night out, clothed. The transgendered woman looked to be a very natural when she appeared naked in front of the last two contestants.
So soon, the taxi arrived.She paid the taxi fare and the door unlocked.
She went up to the double doors with a spring in her step. The doors swished open almost silently as she approached.
The carpet in the reception area was thick and the Royal Blue gave an appearance of opulence and confidence.
When she hesitated a moment, the receptionist called her over to the desk and the die was cast. Charlotte sat, almost automatically on the chair that had been proffered and the papers appeared that needed to be signed to gain admission to the inner sanctum of the building.
Charlotte had been given blank copies of all the papers to study previously, so there was no need to pore over them one at a time, and in just a few minutes a nurse in a starched uniform the colour of the carpet ushered Charlotte through the frosted glass doors and to her room for the next week or so.
Maisie’s name badge gave her an identity, and she helped Charlotte to undress and put on a robe for the final examination by her surgeon. Mr. Gupta arrived shortly afterwards and complimented her on the positive effects of the hormones she had taken for several years, and commented enthusiastically on the feminine shape of her hips.
Charlotte had never thought that her male hips were feminine, but she deferred to the surgeon who though that the result of the surgery would be all the better for that reason.
After Mr. Gupta had gone on his way, Maisie took blood samples for blood typing amongst other things. She had lunch brought on a tray and settled down for the afternoon with daytime TV, and her thoughts.
At 6pm she was required to take the drink that would make several trips to the toilet inevitable, and she caught up with friends on her mobile for much of the evening until Maisie’s night replacement, Joy, brought a mild sedative with a glass of water.
Charlotte was surprised when she was woken by an alarm at 5am then she was given a carbonated drink that had been found to reduce postoperative shock and a mild sedative injection to reduce any lingering anxiety. … then just time to shower and brush her teeth before it was time to go to surgery.
Charlotte denied that she needed a trolley, but as she got up off the bed she felt rather light headed and was grateful to Maisie for her arm, that guided her onto the surgical trolley.
Classical music was playing quietly in the background as Charlotte entered the preparation room where a kindly middle-aged anaesthetist was waiting. With a prick in her arm and a few comforting comments, Charlotte knew nothing else for the rest of the day.
……………………………
Michael had little time to dwell on Charlotte during her surgery. There was a constant flow of anxious pet owners bringing their animals for attention, and tears when some of them had to leave them at the refuge for rehoming because they were no longer able to cope with them.
Badgers and hedgehogs were active still at that time of year and a young badger was brought in after an RTA and was beyond help. He was left quietly in a cardboard box until nature took its course only a few minutes later. His body was added to other animals that were mostly pets that had been too old or too expensive to cure and had had to be euthanised, and would then be cremated.
By noon he had reduced the number of patients to a trickle. Some people had been told that the Refuge had no veterinarians on its staff and had had to be sent away, but where he could help, then he would do so. Many of his patients were pets of families who struggled to feed themselves, but sometimes fed the animal in preference to themselves. Often animal feed companies would leave samples of food for customers to try, but these little sachets were given out sparingly when Michael knew that a pensioner lived for the cat or dog. The companion animal had often been brought in, in the vain hope that the elderly animal’s life could be extended just a few more months.
Eventually Michael, as registered next of kin was able to phone the clinic. Yes, all was well. The surgery had taken the 5 hours, as expected and Charlotte could be visited that evening ‘though she might still be groggy from the effects of the morphine pump that kept the pain at bay and any residual effects of the anaesthetic.
Unusually, Michael left the Refuge promptly and, as Charlotte had instructed, went home, showered, ate and only then, headed out for the clinic.
The doors of the upmarket private clinic swished open as he approached and the receptionist waved him to one of the lifts after have had explained his business to her. Clearly she had to press a button somewhere on the desk to activate the lift, but he was soon rising almost silently to the eighth floor. The lift opened onto a brightly lit corridor with five private rooms and a nursing station.
The nurse in attendance had clearly been forewarned of his approach and she guided him to one of the rooms over to the left of the corridor. The room was in semi-darkness but Charlotte was clearly visible just propped up a little. She turned her head slightly to receive the kiss that was proffered, and then turned her head back to the view of London’s skyline glowing in the night sky.
“Lovely isn't it?” was her first comment.
“Yes, lovely, but I want to know about you.”
“There isn’t much to know. I was anaesthetised and I woke up with all these tubes attached, and this glorious push button. As soon as I feel any pain, I press this button and a small dose of morphine solution goes into the cannula in my arm. Unfortunately they only allow me to use the pump for 24 hours. I will be on to oral codeine tomorrow and then it is paracetamol for the rest of the stay.”
“How does it feel?”
“I cannot feel anything much at present. Just lots of bandages. The operation went well I understand and the surgeon is pleased with me, or so he says. I think he ought to be more pleased with himself as I had very little to do with things!’
“The staff at the Refuge send you their best wishes. This period away will be the longest between visits since your first time two years ago. The mouse colony is still doing well, but it is only a few days since you last came, so that really isn’t news.”
“We had a wild polecat brought in today. Found in an outhouse by a frightened home owner. How they managed to catch it without animal handling gauntlets is difficult to understand, but the Jill polecat is now resting in a cage and has made a meal of some offal. We will release her in a few days well away from the house where she was found. I think there is a sizeable population of feral ferrets in some woods about a mile from where she was discovered. That should be a good place.”
“We collected a fox with a deformed hind leg today. Looks like a birth defect. Our vet, Sarah, thinks it will be better off without the leg and she is going to remove it before we release her. She isn’t using it at all to stand, and seems to be coping quite well except that it seems to catch on things as she goes by.”
“We have the usual batch of animals that need to be neutered, but that is about all, apart from a Cairn terrier that needs to be re-homed.”
“I don’t know much about them but would one suit us?”
“The size is right for a flat in London, and they don’t need long walks. Their main problem is that they need to be socialised well when they are young, or they can become aggressive, also they are not good at being left for longish periods. Finally, and not least, they are barkers. Our neighbours would not enjoy the constant barking when we are out at work. There is also a rather unsavoury problem with this dog as he has been fed the wrong food for a long time and he is rather smelly.”
“Rufus will make a lovely dog for an older person who can devote a lot of time to him, and has the space of a home in the countryside to keep the rest of the World at bay, as it were. We think he is is about ten years old, so it is really too late to train out the bad habits, but having said that, he is an attractive little boy with an intelligent face.”
“Can we have a dog when I am healed?”
“I think we could have a dog, but it all depends upon where we choose to live, and our work/play lifestyle choices.”
“Are you saying that we ought to be planning for the future together?”
“Yes, I think we are. I have thought about it for some weeks, and I have grown to love you over the two years we have been together. I am happy that you … we, really, have spent all our savings on your operation, so I think we need some time to replenish our savings … but then we can do what we wish with our lives after that. It may mean moving somewhere else in Britain or going abroad for a time, or even emigrating. There is no one left in this country who would miss us if we went and with social media we can keep up with anyone who means anything to us.”
“I can see that you are getting tired. Not surprising after the day you have had. I am going to go and let you rest. I will be back tomorrow to visit.”
“Think on what I have said. We have a real future together, but for now you need to get back on your feet.”
Michael stretched over the bed and without touching any part of Charlotte’s rather sore body, gave her a meaningful kiss on the lips.
In fact Charlotte did not have the strength to think about what Michael had said. Within seconds of him leaving the room, she was asleep. Perhaps she dreamed of their future, perhaps not. Neither she (or we) will ever know, but she slept for some hours with the occasional click of the morphine pump keeping her company.
……………………………………….
A nursing auxiliary delivered breakfast and Maisie, her personal nurse, helped Charlotte to sit up in bed a bit to eat it. The powered bed made it easy, but her bottom was unsurprisingly tender after the assault it had suffered the day before.
“We hope to get you sitting in a comfortable chair today, and we are planning that your stay will only be five days.”
“Charlotte was eating as Maisie did this and had to stop herself coughing as a crumb stuck somewhere down her throat.”
“Have a drink of water. The tube that the anaesthetist put down your throat will make it a bit sore.”
Charlotte recovered after a few sips of water.
“So the operation went that well. I thought the five days was a minimum.”
“It is normally, but, yes, Mr. Gupta said that it went very well and you have an excellent chance of looking very good in a bikini after all the swelling has gone down.”
Charlotte, had to stop herself having a good cry. She managed with just a loud sniff and a tear that hung perilously from one eyelash before plopping unceremoniously onto her breakfast tray.
“I have wanted this surgery for so long. I wanted so much to be the woman I felt I was, and now I can be.”
Maisie saw the tears of joy and came over and gave Charlotte a supportive hug.
“Finish your breakfast. When you have finished, press the call button and I will give you a bed bath to make you a bit more comfortable. You still have an indwelling catheter so you don’t need to wee, and after the enema drink you had when you arrived you shouldn’t need to visit the WC either. When Mr Gupta has done his ward round later this morning he will probably say to remove the urine catheter and move on to oral analgesia. Until then have a rest and call me when you are ready for the wash. The abdominal drain will need to stay in place for bit longer, but even with it you should be able to move around the room more.”
Charlotte texted Michael to tell him about her comfortable night. Not surprisingly she felt brighter and explained about what might happen during that day. She was really looking forward to seeing him that evening after work and sent a kiss.
Michael replied with a stock image of a young man kneeling in front of a girl who looked a bit like Charlotte. He was making a proposal.
The caption just said “Will you?”
Through sobs Charlotte replied “Yes of course.”
Maisie found Charlotte minutes later, still with a few snuffles and was quite concerned until she had seen the message.
“Congratulations. I hope you and Michael will be immensely happy. You will make a beautiful bride.”
The news was soon round the ward. The nursing assistants came in to offer their congratulations and even the rather crusty demeanour of Mr. Gupta, her surgeon, broke into a smile.
He was cautious, as always.
“Remember that your surgery will not necessarily be totally healed for up to a year. I will see you at three months and six months to confirm that all is going as expected. I need to emphasise however, that you will need to show restraint until finally discharged.”
“Thank you for the reminder, but I have read a great deal about the surgery and I am sure that I wouldn’t have compromised the wounds until then, anyway.”
The indwelling catheter was withdrawn shortly after Mr. Gupta’s visit, and the catheter connected to the morphine driver disappeared at the same time. There was very little coming from the abdominal drain but Mr. Gupta asked for the bag to be changed.
“If there is no further discharge, then the drain can be removed tomorrow. You will have guidance over the use of a compression garment and how to spot any problems. You will also be shown how to use a dilation tool that must be used daily for three months or until we discharge you finally. When you have had the training and are up on your feet, and have had no problem urinating or opening your bowels, then we should be able to discharge you to rest at home.”
Charlotte had read the pamphlet several times and had seen the diagrams showing how to use the dilator but she listened carefully while Maisie demonstrated the set of dilation tools on a plastic model of a woman’s pelvis.
The day passed quickly because there was so much to do, but time also seemed to pass very slowly as Charlotte couldn’t wait to see Michael after accepting his proposal.
He arrived promptly at 7:30 and after a rather less than chaste kiss, he reached into his pocket for a small deep red box and handed it to Charlotte.
“I took one of your other rings to get it measured, so I hope this fits on your ring finger. The jeweller said that he would change it if it didn’t.”
Charlotte opens the small box with trembling fingers. It contained an simple 18 carat engagement ring with a solitaire diamond in a claw setting.
“It is beautiful.” she said with a catch in her throat.
“Please put it on me”
… and Michael did.
Maisie had already warned Charlotte that her fingers might be a little puffy because of post operative oedema. The ring was a little tight but Charlotte thought it would fit perfectly in a couple of days time.
“We must get on with applying for the Gender Recognition Certificate. You will get some strange looks with your documents in your birth name. No one would dream that you haven’t been a girl all your life looking as you do now.”
Charlotte blushed prettily.
“When I have been discharged from the clinic I will need to get on with working. I can do 90% of my work from home on my laptop, and any face to face meetings can be covered by other staff for the time being. I have used up all my savings on the surgery so I need to get earning again if we are to get married anytime soon.”
“I was thinking that I might move on from my job at the Refuge soon. Should we plan to have our wedding in about a year?
“I am still rather overwhelmed about the idea of a wedding, let alone jobs post-wedding as it were.”
“I have had more opportunity to think about things. You have been understandably preoccupied!”
“Yes, I do think that a year’s time would be ok. The wedding would be very small. Neither of us has lots of relatives who would want to come. I would like to invite my mother, but she is too scared of my father to fabricate a reason to come and I only have a couple of cousins who might come but they don’t know about my change of circumstances as yet.”
“I only have my parents and one brother to consider. None of those know you or anything about your past. Cousins are not on the radar for me but there is one maiden aunt I am fond of so she might be invited.”
“What about colleagues from work?”
“There might have to be a representative from each workplace, but I don’t think either of us is particularly close to anyone at work. I still remember with a little hurt, that two years ago all the female staff except for me, got a peck on the cheek under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Even Tracy, who is openly lesbian accepted a chaste kiss on the cheek from the boys. They all gave every impression that I had been accepted as Charlotte, but only so far it seemed.”
“Do you think anything will be different now?”
“I don’t know. With all my documents changed and appearing as a normal woman, the newer staff may never need to be told that I was anything different previously. Older staff can accept me or not. If I cannot win those people over then I reckon they can stew in their own juice.”
“Can you work from anywhere in the World via the Web?”
“I think so. There are infrequent meetings that could be done by Zoom! but nothing else needs to be done. All the documents are sent in digital form. I might need to print out some at my expense but not many.”
“I just wondered if we could do some travelling and maintain our employment as well.”
“How would you keep working as a Veterinarian nurse?”
“There are veterinarian practices that provide help to expats in Spain, Cyprus, the Greek islands like Crete and Corfu and places like the South of France. They are always needing English speaking staff if the adverts I have seen are true.”
“Are British qualifications convertible?”
“Yes, the fact that I have a BSc in veterinary nursing makes me a desirable commodity in the vet world. I did three years at University to get the honours degree. Without it I would not have been able to work independently at the Refuge.”
“I knew you had been to University of course, but I didn’t realise that it was to study Veterinary Nursing. That is quite a niche subject.”
“Not quite as niche as your qualifications in forensic accounting!”
“OK, point taken. Anyway we are both desirable to employers throughout the World. I have received headhunting offers two or three times a year to go and work in the USA, Canada, or Australia, for instance, but I have always felt incomplete and insecure until now. Now I feel as if I could conquer the World as the woman I always thought I ought to have been.”
‘We are a really good team. Highly qualified in our respective spheres and having had a good employment track record.’
“I think we should take the year to get everything sorted, then get married and plan to work and travel where we are appreciated most.”
“I have seen the advertisement for a senior nursing post that is currently available at a Referral Vets here in London. It should give me a wider experience of complex procedures. They also have a satellite surgery in Chania in Crete, and one in Lisbon. Perhaps we could transfer to one of them after the wedding. I could always ask at the interview.”
“You are making me very excited at the prospect of a life together in the sun. Not good when I am sitting in this chair on a cushion with lots of stitches and trying to heal.”
“Just look out on the grey day outside. That might calm you down?”
“I think it would take more than a grey day to dampen MY enthusiasm.”
“I love your enthusiasm. It is something that makes your face glow. Even without any makeup your eyes shine and it makes you look very pretty. I cannot, for the life of me, think how anyone ever thought you were a boy. I am really looking forward to our wedding, but I just wonder whether we should get married somewhere overseas.”
“I would love that, but we would have to be careful about the regulations regarding marriage when one person has been transgendered. On the whole I think it would be better to get married here in the UK where the regulations are in place.”
“OK, on reflection, I think I agree with you. It was just a nice idea. A wedding on a beach overlooking a crystal blue sea and palm trees is a nice thought, isn't it.”
“Yes, I get the point, but travelling to a tropical island then finding that the locals didn’t accept my Gender Recognition Certificate would be disastrous. Travelling on a new passport in my married name would be safer.”
“If you want to change your name, Charlotte, will you become double barrelled or take my surname?”
I haven’t given it any thought of course but our two surnames combined are a real mouthful. I wonder if you might prefer to change your surname to mine. It is not unheard of in this day and age. Green is an uncomplicated name, whereas Entwistle is a bit OTT.”
“I have no particular objection to changing my surname, but I will give it some thought. It is not a problem to decide later since we have a year to think it through.”
“So what little animals have you helped today?”
The usual array of cats needing neutering, and chips fitted, but we had a swan bought in that had collided with power lines. He looked a bit of a mess with loss of feathers, but he got off relatively lightly with a broken leg and some bruises. I have splinted the leg and it should heal, but the loss of flight feathers means that he will have to stay with us until he grow new ones. He is a handsome beast but has a filthy temper. Hope he acclimatises a bit!”
“Then we had a pregnant Spanish Bulldog brought in. She couldn’t deliver her puppies because of their flat noses, and they had to be helped out into the World. We managed to save two of the four puppies. The owner should have planned for a C-section for the bitch. Rather a lack of forward planning. They are very sweet at this stage but are already struggling to breathe with their flat noses. Both puppies will need surgery to open their nostrils wider. It is a real shame.”
“We had three sets of potential owners visiting and one Labrador cross is going to his new home,”
“I think that is about it!”
A night nurse came into the room to warn Michael that visiting time was nearing its end.
“I must let you get your beauty sleep” he said as he gave Charlotte a lingering kiss.
See you tomorrow.”
“Will you apply for that job?”
As Michael stood at the doorway he said “Yes, I think I will. It will give some good extra experience. Sleep well. … and he had gone out into the night.”
Charlotte snuggled down under the covers and her imagination was allowed full reign over the next year where many of her dreams would become fulfilled.
In almost no time, it seemed, it was morning and Charlotte almost sprang out of bed before remembering all the bandages, stitches and the drain tube.
It would be a good day, and so would be the next day and the one after that and so on.
She thought about emailing her boss with the good news of the successful operation, and drafted the message carefully in her head before opening her laptop.
Graham,
The surgery has gone very well, and I am expecting to be discharged from the clinic after only five days. I will not be very active physically for some weeks, but should be able to work at least part-time from next Monday on my laptop at home.”
Hope you will feel that starting with lightish duties will work for while until I build up my strength a bit, but I am looking forward to returning full-time soon.
Regards
Charlotte Green.
Very quickly Graham replied.
“Really glad that everything has gone well. Lots of colleagues have been asking about you. I thought that there was nothing private in your message so I have forwarded it to the staff with a covering heading.
Will forward some work for you on Monday morning. The workload has been building up in your absence. Your team will be glad to have you back at work.”
Best Regards
Graham
The day followed its normal pattern. Mr Gupta agreed to the abdominal drain being removed and some of the dressings were changed. He said he was very satisfied with the results so far and the new dressings were less cumbersome, and Charlotte was encouraged to take a few steps and use the WC in her ensuite bathroom.
If all went well over the next 24 hours, then the packing in her new vagina would be removed before her clinic discharge after the minimum five days post-operative stay.
Charlotte was in only mild pain after taking the oral analgesia, but was feeling much less tired than before. For several hours she was quite bored, but felt that it was unhelpful to contact Michael when he was probably very busy at work.
Daytime television was an acquired taste! … so she resorted to streamed films. Most were films made for television and probably on a very limited budget. All were instantly forgettable, but they did fill the time.
Michael arrived on the dot of 7:30. He had been thinking out their future during the day and had drafted out a letter of application for the post at the Referral Vets.
Charlotte was asked to read the Job Spec. first and then see what Michael had written in his letter that would be attached to his Curriculum vitae.
The job was certainly demanding, but Michael’s experience of working independently would certainly be an advantage, as would his experience with a variety of animal species.
Charlotte learned quite a lot about Michael from his CV. She hadn’t known his specialisms at school, or , for instance, the fact that he had an A level in German.
“Where do you do the short courses? Six weeks on how to treat reptiles or tropical birds must be an advantage in the job you are applying for.”
There are some advanced Veterinarian centres that offer courses during evenings and weekends. There are also some online courses that have an exam at the end and maybe one weekend at a college somewhere.
“I think we should be good together living on the Continent. I have an A level in Spanish, and you are reasonably fluent in German.”
“Oh, by the way, love, this letter arrived for you today in the post.”
Charlotte opened the envelope with care. Inside was a ‘Get Well’ card signed by everyone at work. There had been a whip-round and there was also a £200 voucher for a well known department store.
The card continued. “We are sure that buying a complete new wardrobe for the spring will stretch your budget. Hope this will help.”
Charlotte was instantly in tears.
“I never dreamt that they cared so much.”
“I will use it to buy a nice formal outfit and accessories to meet clients.”
Michael gave her a hug, or as much of a hug as the still raw surgical scars allowed.
“They treasure you … as do I, of course.”
Between happy sobs, Charlotte texted her thanks back to the team and her boss.
“Get that application emailed off!” was Charlotte’s instruction as Michael prepared to go.
“Yes mam. Will post it on my way to work as soon as I can. I have the updated CV on my computer, so I only have to do the letter of application.”
Michael got home and spent an hour drafting the letter of application, and sent off the letter and CV as attachments to the email address supplied by the surgery.
The next evening Michael was able to report that he had sent the application and his CV and had received an acknowledgement by text.
He had also warned the Director of the refuge that she might be asked for a reference.
“I think you deserve a promotion. You have done a great deal for the refuge and you will be sorely missed, but I think it is time for you to look out for the next step in your career and I will be very happy to support your application.”
Micheal had offered his thanks before settling down to what seemed to be a never ending stream of distressed animals and their owners.
After the third case of a cat being bitten and the wound becoming infected Michael wondered …Britain had been free of Rabies for many years, but there was always a risk of the disease being imported by pets or even from wild rodents. The cats were all distressed and he had needed to handle them with gauntlets on. The owners had been warned to keep the animals indoors for the time being to see if any other symptoms developed, but as there was no simple test for Rabies it was only a matter of waiting.
The owners were warned that anyone who had been bitten or scratched by one of the cats needed to seek medical attention straight away in case their pet had been bitten by a rabid fox.
The afternoon was taken up with one of the neighbourhood vets carrying out a neutering surgery for a number of cats and dogs. Michael thought he could do the surgery as well as any of the vets after seeing it done so often, but he enjoyed working with the cheery twenty-something lady vet who normally came, and he put up with the supporting role for the time being.
When Michael got home that evening he received an email form the Director saying that she had been asked for a reference. The Referral Vets had asked that he be given a copy of the reference and she was happy to forward it to him now.
Twenty-four hours since making a decision to apply, and now he was having references taken up! The reference was fulsome in its its praise for Michael and his work. He made a paper copy to take to Charlotte that evening with a printed copy of the application.
Charlotte was bubbling over with news when he arrived an hour later. You can take me home tomorrow evening if my surgeon signs me off. He says I have done very well.
When they had hugged he kissed her. It was the best way to stop her talking nineteen to the dozen.
He laughed as he held out the printed sheets for her to see.
She was immediately solemn and concentrated on the half dozen sheets he handed to her.
She murmured “This is really very good” then … “very good indeed.” Then as she turned the last page over, she said “This is both an excellent application and a very good reference.”
“I hope the interview is not tomorrow!”
“I will make sure it isn’t! Can’t leave a lady waiting!”
“Charlotte coloured up a bit. I like being called a lady. It makes me feel like I am me, now.”
“You have always been Charlotte to me.”
Again, she blushed.
“ I have been thinking about our wedding plans.”
“Oh. This is what lounging about in a hospital room with good food and care does of you! The product of an idle mind I call it”
“You can stop grinning like that. This is the product of a fertile mind, not an idle one, I will have you know!”
“Ok what has your fertile mind dreamed up?”
“If you get this job and I am sure you are a shoe-in for it, and I get my paperwork sorted out, then I think we should get married sooner rather than later. A year is a long time. After a year or so in post then you could ask for the transfer to Lisbon and we could have a larger home there.”
“How long do you think it will take to get the gender paperwork all sorted out?
“I think it can be put through in about six months. I know it seems a long time but it can be longer if the paperwork is not all in order.”
“So it is now January, say you are a fully fledged woman by the end of the Summer, then we could look towards an Autumn wedding. However, it takes time to book a slot for a wedding at a Register Office and you have to post Banns and all that stuff. We would be on safer ground to plan for late Autumn or even later. We don’t want to cancel the wedding (or reception if there is going to be one). It can be very costly.”
“I am not expecting a Reception, just a nice meal in a Portuguese restaurant for the two of us and our two witnesses.There are several nice ones in the Borough Market area of London. I know exactly the one I want us to book.”
“Haven’t you explained why we need to plan for a wedding in a year’s time.”
“Yes I suppose all those ‘Ifs and Buts’ do add up to a year.”
“But I have been thinking and there is no harm in that.”
“Have you decided who the two witnesses will be.”
“No not yet, I wanted to choose them with you. One of them will need to be your best man, after all.”
“Why cannot it be a best woman? I understand that that is becoming more common.”
“Have you any potential ‘Best Women’ in mind? I shall have to approve of her!”
“No, but I will give it some thought over the next few days. I don’t think I will be called for interview for a few days at least.”
In fact, Michael was quite wrong. He was phoned early the following morning and was requested to come for an interview on the following Wednesday.
Saturday came and Michael collected Charlotte in a black cab, and ushered her gently from a wheel chair guided by one of the charming nursing auxiliaries from the clinic. Charlotte stepped gingerly into the cab and sat extra carefully in the deep leather seating that black cabs have.
The cab driver chatted throughout the journey regaling them with his adventures as a London cabbie. The half hour journey was soon over and the cab driver was paid and soon disappeared into the night.
Charlotte held on to Michael’s arm as they climbed the short flight of stairs to the small apartment they shared.
As he settled her into one of their armchairs and went to make her a cup of tea, she whispered to herself.
“I do love you so much Michael. I want to make you a wonderful wife.”
Michael was not at all hard of hearing, and heard the whisper.
“I love you too, my darling.”
… but Charlotte had dropped off to sleep even before she had a chance to sip her tea or eat her favourite almond croissant that sat un-nibbled on the plate beside her.
Michael wrapped her in a blanket.
“Have a good sleep my darling. We have a world to explore together, but it can wait.”
In the meantime I will wrap the croissant in clingfilm for you to eat tomorrow.
So it will be another ‘Crumb Free Christmas.’
Author's note.
Whilst this story is intended to be a pair with A Crumb Free Christmas (Part 1) it has the potential for many more episodes in the lives of Charlotte and Michael. That will depend upon the reaction of the readers who have been so supportive of Part 1. Thank you for all the Kudos's if that is the plural of Kudos? ... and the comments.
Have a happy holiday.
Columbine x