Chris Reynolds, always wanting to please his family as he was growing up, knew that something about himself was amiss: His body was just plain wrong! This sense of wrongness pervaded him and eventually sank him into a deep depression.

One fateful day, deciding to end it all, Chris wound up being caught in a freakish accident in which he was killed - only he didn't die!

Finding himself alive was the first thing he was surprised at. Finding his lifelong prayers answered, through some sort of swapping of bodies during death with another person - a girl equally as depressed as himself, and in a similar situation as he - except she had always desired to physically be a man, was simply amazing!

Chris, now Christina, pursues living life to it's fullest, but once again realizes something missing from her life. Will she find her answer?

Just what will Christina do with her Second Chance?

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Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
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The Legal Stuff: Second Chance © 2009, 2010 Tanya Allan
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
Please enjoy.
Tanya
 
 

 
 
 
Prologue
 
 
“Chris! The car is here. Come on, we have to go now,” Dad shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

“Stand up and let me look at you,” Mama said, so I obliged for her.

I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror and smiled. I was about as happy as anyone could possibly be, but then I was getting married.

Mama smiled.

“Vacker! You look very good,” Mama said. Even after thirty years in England, she still sounded so Swedish. She had understatement down to a fine art.

She hugged me.

“I am very proud of you, Chris.”

“Oh, Mama, I could never have got here without you and Dad.” I said.

I looked at my reflection one last time, thinking back to that time I had looked at myself in the mirror, only a short year ago, when I decided to kill myself.
 
 
Chapter 1
 
 
August 2001
 
Why do moronic radio DJs have to talk such utter drivel at such terrible times of the day? I squinted at my alarm clock, just enough to get the range, and shot my hand out and made the necessary violent connection to shut the patronising little bastard up.

06:45 - the red digits winked at me. Bullying me until I dragged myself from under my duvet and padded, reluctantly, to the bathroom. Another dreary Monday, the promised glorious sunshine meant the office would be insufferable, as most of my colleagues were on their holidays, so going in would be a complete waste of time and effort. Added to my general misery and depression, I had almost had enough.

I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The reason for my misery stared back at me with a mocking smile. I am twenty-four years old, a specialist in computer graphic design and working for one of the best advertising companies in the UK. I’m over 6’01”, broad in the shoulders and very fit. I have my blond-hair cut as short as I can without being accused of belonging to a right wing paramilitary organisation with dishonest intentions on Poland. I keep my hair so short, not to make a political or social statement, but just because I’m lazy, and it takes no time to deal with it at 06:45 every working day.

My features could be described as regular, with the Scandinavian high cheekbones and blue eyes from my mother’s side, and despite my height and build, my mother still calls me her handsome little boy. I have large hands and feet, and yes, the saying was true, or, at least in my case it is.

I had excelled at school, having attended Dr Challoner’s Grammar School in Amersham. There, I ended up representing the school at rugby, soccer, cricket, athletics and managed three A grades at A level, allowing me to move on to Cambridge to study graphic design and advertising. I secured a 2.1 BA degree, and was snapped up by my current employer. It was only a minor back injury that prevented me from rowing in the first eight in the 1998 boat race.

That is the reason for my misery.

I am just too damn perfect!

My parents are so proud of me that it hurt. My younger sister, Ingrid, thinks that I can all-but walk on water. The extended family use me as a role model for all my cousins, both in the UK and in Scandinavia. I am just so bloody wonderful.

Oh no, I’m not!

I was four when I realised that someone had made a mistake.

I was six when I really found out what the mistake was, and that I couldn’t fix it with a Swiss army knife and some sticky tape. The doctor and child psychologist were quite adamant about that one.

I was ten when I understood the real depth of the problem, and twelve when I started crying myself to sleep nearly every night.

Throughout all those years, I had prayed the same prayer every night. For all that time, every morning, as with this morning, I checked, feeling the same despair when I realised that my prayer has not yet been answered.

You see, I knew that inside this good looking, athletic, intelligent, young man, with enormous potential (as my boss put it.), was a shy and sensitive young woman, who cared not one jot about sport, ambition or the one hundred and one other young women who saw me as a potential husband.

My pubescent years had been a bloody nightmare, as I grew into the big and strong young man. I went through incredible turmoil, as I learned new words, like transvestite, transsexual, homosexual, hermaphrodite, and several unrepeatable ones, which meant the same sort of things.

I realised I wasn’t gay when a man tried to pick me up in Greece on a holiday when I was sixteen. The whole idea sickened me, and I could not imagine anything quite so gross as what he suggested.

When I was sixteen, I tried dressing up, and, yes, I liked seeing myself as a woman, but at nearly six foot, with my sister’s clothes on, I looked a joke. Ingrid was a good eight inches shorter than I was, even then.

I read that transvestites dressed for the sexual thrill. I got no thrill, just a feeling of confusion as I wanted not just to look like a girl, but I actually wanted to BE a girl. I got no sexual thrill at all. As I lay on my bed, wearing the feminine clothes next to my skin, I imagined a man opening my legs and on finding a moist vagina, he sank his erect penis into me up to the hilt. I had an instant ejaculation from a semi-flaccid penis, and had to clean my sister’s knickers quickly.

I was so riddled with guilt that I never repeated the dressing experience. However, the fantasies continued. I was always female, and the faceless men would make love to me in as many ways as my imagination could fathom. Boy, could my imagination reach some depths!

Yet, in the real world, I had no interest in seeing males as potential sexual partners. Indeed, I had several girlfriends, and even made love on a couple of occasions. They were not dreadfully successful, neither the girlfriends, nor the sexual experiences. Then again, they weren’t total disasters, and I suppose I conducted myself satisfactorily.

My mother, bless her, would send me over to Sweden every year. I went to stay with her prolific family, where strings of very presentable Swedish girls would be introduced to me, in the vain hope that I “would meet a very nice Swedish girl and settle down and have babies.”

How could I tell her that I wanted to be the very nice girl and I wanted to settle down and have the babies? Besides, I knew that I hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of ever realising my dream. Still, I prayed every night.

I opened the bathroom cupboard and stared once more at the bottle of sleeping pills. I had acquired them a few months previously when I wrenched my shoulder playing squash, and the doctor prescribed them as the pain was stopping me sleeping. I had never used them.

Every day these pills would whisper to me, “Take us, we’re painless and quick. All your worries would be over.”

This particular morning the whisper was deafening.

It took all my resolve and willpower to shut the cupboard and shave. I knew that tomorrow, the whisper would be back, and even louder. Tomorrow - I will do it tomorrow. I told myself.

I dressed in my grey suit, pale blue shirt and a dark tie, and walked to work. I stopped at a little coffee shop for my breakfast, and read my paper. My small flat was just twenty minutes walk from the office in London’s West End. It was nothing special, but I had been there for a couple of years now. It had nearly doubled in value, and it gave me the privacy to be miserable.

As I had predicted, the office was running on two cylinders, as most of the staff were on holiday. I always took my holidays during the off-season, as I tended to stay with relatives either here or in Sweden. The girls in the office had a bet on as to who could get me into bed first. I had found a copy of the sweep sheet on the photocopier. I smiled, as they were all going to be disappointed.

I had many casual friends of both genders. In truth though, I was much happier and more relaxed with women. The problem was my appearance, the girls would see me as a predatory male, so depending whether they were in the market or not, altered their attitude towards me accordingly. I just wanted to be friends, but it didn’t work like that.

One girl, Stephanie, was, as she put it, an irredeemable dyke. She and I got on famously. We both got hideously pissed at an office party. She tried picking up a very attractive typist, who had been equally determined to end up in my bed. After being rejected by her target, Stephanie witnessed my poor handling of rejecting the same girl’s advances, and we ended up on the sofa, discussing gender peculiarities.

She was, ironically, a very attractive woman. About 5’ 6”, with a nice figure, but as she always wore slightly masculine attire, it was never displayed to her best advantage. She had dark curly hair, which she kept almost as short as mine.

I had noticed with a smirk, that her name was not on the list I had found on the photocopier. I thanked her for not being in the market. She thanked me for being non-judgmental, and a decent person (for a bloke). Neither of us was interested in the other, in any sexual sense, so as a result we became firm friends. Had I not been so troubled, I would have fancied her rotten. She only dressed down to dissuade all ardent male admirers.

In fact, so much so, she was the only person with whom I had shared my inner secrets with, one evening when she popped round for some pizza and a chat. She had simply nodded.

“I thought you were gay to start with, but you never looked at the blokes, so I knew you weren’t. This explains a lot. What are you going to do about it?” she had asked.

I didn’t know then and I still didn’t know. I had looked into sex change operations and it was all a bit silly. I was over six foot for Pete’s sake. I was built like a brick shit house, with size eleven feet. I wouldn’t really make a convincing woman, surgery or not. It would take a team of surgeons several months to get me half-way decent, and I wasn’t prepared to accept half a job.

As a result, I had done nothing, so the pills whispered to me every morning.

I got down to the bit of work that needed doing and lost myself in the computer world of design.

“Coming to lunch, Chris?” one of the girls, Karen, asked, bringing me back to the real world.

I looked at the clock, 13:00. Time flies when you are having fun, I thought.

“Yeah, okay. Where are you going?” I said.

“I thought I’d pick up a sandwich and a drink, and pop over to the park.”

“Okay, I’ll get my wallet from my jacket. It’s too warm to wear it,” I said, joining her in the lift a few moments later.

We sat on the grass and munched our expensively indifferent sandwiches, and slurped our hideously over-priced drinks. She was a pretty girl, who was engaged to a young man who worked for a merchant bank. I had met him and thought him a graceless pompous ass. He was an old Etonian, and I took instant dislikes to old Etonians.

I read the rest of my paper and at ten to two we started back. I was reading an interesting article on reincarnation by some woman who claimed to have lived at least six lives before this one. I was not a believer in this particular aspect of spirituality, but then I was prepared to accept anything, with good evidence.

We reached the pedestrian crossing, where I automatically pressed the button and waited. Karen was saying something to me, I heard the bleeps, and glanced up to see the green walking man on the traffic light. I stepped into the road, heard the screech of brakes, and everything went black.
 
 
I felt no pain. I suppose part of me realised that some type of vehicle had hit me, but there was no pain at all.

So, this was death!

Or was it my last dream before everything blinked out into nothingness?

I was very detached. The surprising thing was that I found that I couldn’t care less. My only thought was, “Thank fuck. I don’t have to take those bloody pills now, and my parents won’t have to deal with a suicide.”

I even felt quite happy, as I waited for the nothingness to come.

There was a swirling mist, and then I dreamt that I was standing in a room, or rather I was in a room, as I don’t think I was aware of having a body, let alone any legs to stand on.

A man was standing there. I assume he had legs, but I couldn’t see any, as the long robe came down to the thing upon which he was standing. I say thing, as it had no substance, it just existed, like solid air, but not.

“Hello. What are you doing here?” he asked, surprised.

Great. I thought, even when I die I make a balls up!

“I’m Chris Reynolds, I think I’m dead,” I said.

“Hmm, I don’t think so. But let me see,” he said, and a large ledger just appeared in his hand.

He opened it, looked at the open pages for a while and turned to the last page.

“No, I thought as much, you are not due until……” he paused, giving me a sly smile, “well, not a for a long while yet.”

“Bollocks!” I said, frustrated.

His white bushy eyebrows shot up. I suddenly felt guilty.

“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t mean….” I started to explain, but he just smiled.

“Ah, you thought I was the Boss, didn’t you? It’s okay, I’m not. You wouldn’t warrant an audience with him, in any case,” he said, and I felt a bit miffed. After all, I had prayed every night since I could remember.

He smiled and said, “You haven’t really got the right idea about prayer, have you?”

“Haven’t I?”

“Not really. I mean look,” he said opening up my ledger. A piece of paper, wound like a till roll, opened up and just kept on going.

“7,340 prayers, all for the same thing, almost word for word,” he said.

“Yeah, that was over twenty years,” I said, quite proud of myself.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and please note, never answered,” I said, a little crossly.

“Ah, you made the mistake that so many humans make.”

“What?”

“You blamed the Creator for something He didn’t do.”

I was quiet, as he was correct, I did blame God.

“He never had any hand in your conception, delivery or up bringing. Whatever you are is a matter for the world, and the world is a fallen place,” he said.

I frowned, as he had lost me.

“Look,” he said, not unkindly. “Adam and Eve made a choice in the garden, and that choice separated mankind from the Creator. He respects that, and only helps those who give themselves back to Him, free and gratis, with no conditions attached. So it’s no good blaming Him with one breath, and then demanding He make good something He never did in the first place, with the next.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly understanding.

“Oh, indeed!”

“I didn’t know,” I said.

He looked at me closely.

“Hmm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t. If it’s any consolation I apologise unreservedly, and withdraw any blame,” I said, actually meaning it.

“Hmm,” he said, looking once again at the ledger.

I just watched him. He was a tall man, if he even was a man. His hair was white, as were his beard and moustache. His eyes were golden in colour, and his skin was like burnished bronze. His robe was so white as to be dazzling.

“Am I dreaming?” I asked.

“Not really, it all depends on what you consider a dream.”

“Are you an angel?” I asked.

“Something like that,” he muttered.

“Am I going to be here long?” I asked.

“I shouldn’t worry, time doesn’t exist here,” he said, still reading.

“Oh,” I said.

“You are a bit of a selfish so and so, really, aren’t you?” he said.

“Probably, but then when one is as miserable as I was, one doesn’t really care,” I said.

“Hmm. I suppose there is some merit in that.”

I laughed, a short and humourless laugh.

“Look, I hate to be a bore, but either let me die or put me back. I won’t be long in any case, I really have had enough,” I said.

He looked sharply at me.

“I told you, it isn’t your time.”

“I heard, but to be honest, I don’t want to go back. I’ve had enough, so, if it’s all the same to you, just let me die,” I said.

“Really? You do realise that with your track record, there is no guarantee of going up?” he said.

“Going down could be no worse to what I have had to live through for the last twenty four years,” I said bitterly, and his eyebrows disappeared into his hair this time.

“I think it is, you know, quite a bit worse, if the truth be told,” he said.

I shrugged, or at least if I had any shoulders I would have done.

“All right, I will put you back, if you agree not to be such a selfish little person. And stop blaming God for things He didn’t do,” he said.

“I suppose,” I said, grumpily.

He stared at me. A telephone materialised at his elbow and rang. He answered it and spoke briefly into it, staring at me the whole time. He hung up and the phone disappeared.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you the choice, you can go back as you were, but with the feelings gone forever. Or you can go back as you have prayed for,” he said.

I looked at him, but suddenly felt a bolt of electricity surge through my body, the body that wasn’t there.

I lost him and the room. I cried, “I never said. I never got to choose!”
 
 
“We have a pulse! Patient is conscious,” a voice said. Something was over my eyes, so I couldn’t see.

“Thank God. I thought we had lost this one. How are vitals?” said another voice.

“Strong pulse, blood pressure normal, breathing normal.”

“All right, tell A & E that we have a critical RTA on way. Fractures to arm and possibly ribs, head and maybe internal,” the second voice said.

Whoopee! I thought, this sounds fun.

I felt myself being lifted, and heard vehicle doors open and close. Then I passed out.
 
 
I came to again and opened my eyes. My head hurt like the blazes, but something was in my mouth. I choked, so a nurse removed the ventilator.

“Doctor. Patient is conscious again.”

Two fuzzy faces entered my field of vision, as I tried to focus. It almost worked.

“Hello, can you hear me?” a male voice said. I nodded.

“Good, I’m Doctor Phillips, you’re in hospital,” he said, stating the obvious.

I nodded.

“You were in an accident,” he said, as he swam slowly into full focus. He had a baldhead, which shone in the bright lights.

No? Really? I thought I had won the lottery. Silly sod! I nodded again.

“You have sustained a head injury. Does it hurt?”

What was this guy on? Fool? I nodded again, perhaps he would go away, and I could curl up and die.

“You have also broken your arm.”

I lifted my right arm, it was fine, and so I tried my left one.

“Arrgh.”

“So you can feel that?”

I am going to hit him with it when I’m better, I thought to myself, and nodded again, feeling like a twit.

“Can you remember the accident?”

I frowned, shaking my head. All I remembered was being given the choice, and not being around to make my selection. I felt so frustrated, I shook my head again and started to cry. Why hadn’t I just died?

“It’s all right. It is quite normal to not remember some things,” the doctor said, misunderstanding my tears completely.

“Can you remember your name?”

He really was a silly sod. Of course, I could remember my name. Couldn’t I? I thought for a moment.

“Chris Reynolds,” I said, triumphantly. I was disappointed as it came out as a croaky squeak.

“Well done Chris! Can you tell me what day it is?”

I thought for a moment, and remembered the alarm clock, and that moron of a DJ who twittered on about it being Monday.

“Monday,” I said.

“Good. Okay, you have quite a nasty bump to your head. No fracture, but you gave us all quite a fright. You were severely concussed, and we will keep you in for twenty-four hours just in case of compression. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“A friend of yours from work was with you, and she is here. There is also a policeman who wants to speak to you. Do you feel up to seeing him yet?”

I nodded.

“Okay, but take it easy, and don’t try too much. The nurse will be here, so if you get tired, just tell her. All right?”

I nodded again.

Karen came running in.

“Oh, Chris, thank God. I was terrified. The paramedics had to jump start you. They said your heart stopped.”

“Really?” I croaked. I had a sore throat from where they had placed the ventilator.

“Yeah, anyway I have your stuff, and called your mother on your mobile. She’s on her way. I waited until they told me you were going to be okay before I called, the policeman made sure of that,” she said.

“Thanks,” I croaked.

“Yeah, they said that it was your hair that stopped you being killed. If you hadn’t got such lovely long hair, you’d have smashed your skull on the road.”

“My hair?” I asked, confused.

“Yeah, anyway, I’ve got your shoulder bag and shoes. It was lucky you were wearing that sleeveless dress, otherwise they would have had to cut it off to fix your arm. They had to cut your bra off to give you the jump-start thingy. Apparently, the wires in the bra would have caused real problems!”

Bra?

My head hurt and my mind was in a whirl. I was hearing things - Bra, hair, shoulder bag, dress?

This was not right. I reached my right arm up and felt my head. All I could feel was a bandage, but I felt some long hair by my neck. I then felt something on my earlobe. It was a hole, I felt the other side, and there was one there too.

“It’s okay, both your earrings are still there, I checked, they’re in a bag by the bed,” Karen said, no doubt seeing my action as one of concern.

I looked at my hand, and stared at something that wasn’t mine. The hand attached to my arm was small and slender with long well shaped nails varnished in a red colour. This was a girl’s hand.

I stared at it, mesmerised. I flexed it, opened it closed it and looked at it from every angle.

“Have you hurt that hand too?” Karen asked.

“Huh?” I said.

“They said you were lucky to live, the van came right through a red light.”

I was beginning to realise that I must have made a choice after all!

The implications were enormous. Karen had lunched with Chris Reynolds, the tall man, with big feet and a hidden secret. Yet, here was the same Karen chatting away to a female Chris, as if I was the same person. Talk about weird.

I let my hand fall onto my chest and felt something else. I had breasts.

I slipped my hand under the sheet and felt both perfectly formed and not inconsiderable mounds of flesh.

Bloody Hell!

I felt a rushing in my ears, experiencing a sense of excitement mixed equally with panic.

What in hell did I do now?

How could I tell my parents about the choice?

Why did Karen not remember me as a man?

“Miss Reynolds?” said a male voice. I was startled back to almost being with the rest of the world.

I turned and saw a tall police officer by the door. He was in his early twenties, with short fair hair, and a very nervous smile. He looked quite good-looking, I thought.

What?

I went over my thought pattern again. I looked at the young cop, and was aware that I was looking at him in a totally different light.

OH MY GOD! I’M A GIRL........

I struggled to try to sit up.

Mistake!

I then experienced pillow-spin without the pleasure of imbibing the alcoholic refreshment.

Nausea, headache, and pale face, beads of sweat… urgh!

I lay down again.

“I’m sorry, I can come back later of you want?” the lad said, looking worried. Lad indeed. He was my age.

“I’m okay; just a bit woozy,” I said. My voice sounded different, a girl’s voice.

“Do you remember anything at all?” he asked, with his report book out, pen at the ready.

I frowned, attempting to organise my brain. Inside, I was screaming with joy, but my body just felt battered.

“I remember pressing the pedestrian light button, I remember seeing the green man and hearing the beeps. I stepped off, I just head a screech of brakes or tyres, and then nothing,” I said, slowly and deliberately.

“Did you see the van?”

“It could have been a water buffalo for all I knew,” I said, and he laughed. He had a nice laugh; it went with his nice face. What was I like?

“Okay, thanks. Oh, one thing. Karen calls you Chris, what’s your full name?” he asked.

Before I could reply, Karen spoke.

“Hey Chris, I’ve got your keys, how about I drop by your flat and pick you up a nightie and some clothes and stuff?” she offered.

“Yeah, could you? That would be great,” I heard myself say. Karen gave me a hug, and left me with the policeman.

I stared at him. What the hell was my full name? I knew that when I got up that morning I had been Christian John Reynolds. Who the hell I was now, was anybodies guess.

“Christina! Oh my God! What’s happened?” it was my mother, with Dad in tow.

“Hi Mama,” I said, waiting for the ‘what has happened to my little boy?’ bit. Then, what she had called me sunk in. She knew me as a girl!

I turned to the policeman.

“I’m Christina Reynolds,” I said.

“Do you have a middle name?”

“It’s Jane,” said mother, “Oh my poor baby, are you in awful pain?” Her Swedish accent was very pronounced when she was worried.

“I’m fine Mama. Look, I need to talk to this nice policeman, could you be an absolute angel and get me something to drink, like a coke or something? And you could speak to the doctor, and maybe he would tell you all about it.”

She looked at me, as if to say, ‘I know you are trying to get rid of me, but I’ll pretend that I don’t.’

“Okay, sweetheart,” she said, dragging poor Dad out again.

“Sorry about that, but my mother does tend to take over,” I said.

“That’s okay, my mum is the same. She can’t get her head round the fact that I’m grown up now,” the policeman said.

“I can’t just call you, ‘the nice policeman’, what’s your name?” I said.

“It’s Mark, Mark Williams,” he said, blushing.

“Hi Mark, I’m Chris. I’m sorry, but I must look a real mess,” I heard myself say.

“No, not at all, you look lovely. That is, you look fine, um, you don’t look a mess at all.”

“How come you’re here, it makes it look very serious?” I asked, so he could get over his embarrassment.

“I saw the accident happen, so I was there when your heart stopped. I’ve never seen anyone die before,” he said, and suddenly sounded very young.

“Well, I didn’t die,” I said.

He smiled.

“I’m ever so pleased you didn’t, but they had to get the defibrillator out on you,” he said.

I knew enough that they usually placed the defib onto bare skin, so my good hand flew to my new breasts. He had the decency to blush.

“Well, it seems you know me a lot better than I know you,” I said with a smile and he grinned sheepishly at me.

“I got your address from your friend Karen, but I need your post code and telephone number,” he said.

I gave them to him, my mobile, work and flat numbers.

“Thanks. I’ve written down your statement: - “I remember pressing the pedestrian light button, I remember seeing the green man, and hearing the beeps. I stepped off, and I just head a screech of brakes or tyres, and then nothing.” Is there anything you want to add?” he said.

“No. I don’t remember anything else. What happened to the driver?”

“He was arrested for dangerous driving. We didn’t think you’d make it, and so it would be causing death by dangerous driving. He was reading his A-Z map at the time, and sailed through the red light. He’s very cut up about it all.”

“I bet he is. What’ll happen to him?”

“He’ll be reported for the offences and released. I called in when the doctor said you were okay.”

“Oh.”

“He asked if he could come and visit you. We told him it was up to you.”

I thought for a moment. If it hadn’t been for this unknown dopey van driver, I would not now be in hospital. More importantly, I wouldn’t be a girl either.

“If it will help.”

“That’s really decent of you. Many people wouldn’t agree to something like this. I’ll let the station know, he’s waiting outside the front,” Mark said, and he left me alone for a moment.

Not for long, for my parents were back and my mother gave me a cold carton of orange juice.

She sat down and looked at my arm. The forearm was covered in a pink fibreglass cast, stretching from my wrist up to my elbow.

“The doctor says you have a fractured radius, near the wrist, and it broke when the van hit you. Your ribs and hips are bruised, you banged your head and are concussed. It was only your lovely hair that stopped you fracturing your skull.”

“I know, Mama, Karen told me.”

“Nice girl, that Karen, she called me as soon as she knew you were alright.”

“Yes, she’s popping round to my flat and is bringing me some clothes, so I have something to wear when I leave tomorrow.”

“We’ll collect you, so you can come and stay at home for a while, until your arm is better,” Mama said. Dad just smiled at me, and squeezed my hand. We never needed to speak, he and I, it was nice, as he was always so supportive and kind.

I knew better than argue with my mother, besides I was feeling shaky, so a bit of spoiling was fine by me. More importantly, I needed time to come to terms with who I now was.
 
 
I must have dozed off, because when I woke up, my parents had gone. I was alone again, apart from the occasional nurse, who came and made sure that I wasn’t lapsing into a coma.

I asked the nurse whether I was allowed to go to the loo. I was attached to a drip, so the whole lot came too. I was a little dizzy to start, but after I sat on the edge of the bed for a bit, the world stopped spinning, and I was able to shuffle to the loo. The first thing I noticed was my height. I was quite a bit shorter, as I thought I had lost at least five inches. The hospital gown was not the most flattering piece of attire, but I reached the loo and gratefully sat down.

It was a large disabled toilet, and I had my mobile drip stand along side me. I did what I had to do, but was faced with my new genitalia for the first time. Using some toilet tissue I wiped, and could not lose the silly grin from my face. I spent ages just looking. I slipped the gown off, and examined the rest of me. The bruises were quite spectacular, but I guessed the colours would come out further over the next few days. My ribs hurt like the blazes. I looked at my face in the mirror, and gasped. The bandage that kept the dressing on the cut to the rear right had side of my head did not hide the fact that I was a very different Chris to the one I had looked at this morning.

I was still blonde, the kind of Nordic pale blonde that is almost silver. I still had my blue eyes and the high cheekbones, but the face was different, it was beautiful. My nose was smaller, chin less pronounced and softer, somehow, but the full lips were the biggest change. I thought that I looked tired, as my eyes had dark rings around them. I had some smudged make up on that needed repair, but I couldn’t help but smile at what I saw. The Creator had more than answered my prayer.

I had just put my robe back on when the nurse came to see if I was all right. She was very surprised at the grinning idiot who met her and almost bounced back to her bed. She told me that my parents said they would come back in the morning and would take me home as soon as the doctor was happy I could go. It was nearly six pm, and she asked if I would like something to eat. I did not fancy much, as I was still a little light headed, and asked for a sandwich.

She wanted to check my dressing, so she took off the huge white bandage and the dressing underneath. I was relieved, as there was nothing to see except a little dried blood on my hair, showing where I had been cut. I had a huge bump, and it was very tender. She replaced the small dressing and left me alone.

I had only been back in bed for a few minutes when Karen arrived with some clothes and make up from my flat. I immediately put on a nightie and asked her to put some make up for me, as my arm made it difficult to do. I watched her so as to get a rough idea as to how to do it for myself.

She was very chatty, telling me that she had seen our department head, Mr Robbins, and told him what had happened. He wanted me to know that I wasn’t to worry, just to get better.

“Steve asked after you,” she said, grinning as if this should mean something.

“Steve?” I asked, blankly.

“You know, brooding Steve? The dark haired guy in the corner? Come on, you and Steve are good mates. You can’t pretend that you can’t remember Steve.”

“Oh,” I said, I just twigged when she described the corner desk and the dark hair. Stephanie. Bloody Hell! This was getting complicated!

“Oh, indeed. Didn’t you two go out for a while?” Karen asked.

I shrugged and shook my head.

“It sounds terrible, but there are huge holes in my memory,” I said, quite truthfully. I could remember my life as Christian, but not as Christina.

“Really? Do you remember me?”

“Yes, and my parents, and lots of other things. It is not people so much as events. I mean, I can’t remember what we did last week.”

“Oh. Does the doctor know?”

I shrugged.

“You ought to tell him.”

“You reckon?”

“Yes.”

At that moment Mark, the policeman, knocked on the open door of my room. My heart gave a little flutter as I realised I was pleased to see him.

“Hi Christina. I’ve brought the van driver. I spoke to the doctor, and he says it is fine, but only if you agree,” he said.

“Okay, but just for a couple of minutes,” I said, smiling shyly.

He smiled back and reddened a little.

“You look much better,” he said and disappeared.

“Being hit by a van hasn’t stopped you flirting, then?” Karen said with a smirk.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Why didn’t you just slide over and lift the sheet for him?” she said, and dodged as I threw a pillow at her.

I was looking for another missile, when he reappeared with a small man in a dirty white tee shirt. He was about thirty, with very short hair that was receding at the front. He had one earring, and looked miserable.

“Christina, this is Robert Clarke.”

“Miss Reynolds?” he said.

“Hello, you were driving the van?” I said. I thought he was going to cry.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. When I saw you lying there, and the paramedic said he got no pulse, I wanted to die instead of you. You looked so beautiful, I felt terrible,” he said, and then he did cry.

I reached out with my good arm, and touched him on the shoulder.

“Hey. I am okay. A few bumps and bruises, and the odd broken bone, but I’ll go home tomorrow. So don’t beat yourself up too much. The police will do that for you,” I said, and he almost smiled.

“Even the police have been good to me. I don’t deserve it. I just wanted to say that I was sorry. I’m so pleased you didn’t die.”

“Strangely enough, so am I,” I said, and smiled at the poor man.

“I bought you these,” Rob said, and produced a small bunch of flowers. They weren’t much, but considering what he had been through, he probably couldn’t find anything else.

“They are lovely. Thanks,” I said, and Karen put them into my water jug.

“If there is anything I can do?” he asked.

“Just one thing. When you get your licence back, please don’t run into anyone else,” I said.

“I’m never driving again. Not after seeing you lying there and the paramedics working to save your life. I really thought I’d killed you.”

“Well, you didn’t, so you have to pick up life and keep going,” I said and he nodded. I looked at Mark. He touched Robert on the arm.

“We have to go now, Robert,” he said.

“Yes. Thank you for seeing me, Miss Reynolds, it must be hard for you.”

“Not as hard as it must be for you. Look Robert, I accept your apology, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Let’s both just get on with our lives, shall we?” I said, and he smiled, sort of.

Mark took him away and Karen giggled.

“He looked ever so guilty,” she said.

“So I should think, the silly arse nearly killed me,” I said, crossly.

“You were very nice to him,” said Mark from the door.

“Well, he has to live with himself, it was the least I could do,” I replied.

“Well, I hope things heal quickly. Take care,” he said, and he made to go.

“Thanks Mark. Bye. Maybe I’ll see you again?” I said, and Karen giggled.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, and smiled hopefully.

Then he was gone.
 
 
“Well, you seem better. I have to get home. Do you need anything else? I can bring it in tomorrow,” Karen asked.

“No thanks, Karen. Um, do I seem different to you?” I asked.

“Different, in what way?”

“Any way, I suppose. I just feel different, somehow.” This sounded really odd. I had to know.

She looked at me, and shook her head.

“Not really, everything considered, you seem just the same as always. Why?”

I shrugged.

“No reason, I just feel weird with bits missing from my memory. You’ve been brilliant, thanks so much,” I said. She gave me my flat keys back, and we had a gentle hug.

“I’ll ring you at your mum’s place, maybe we can get together some time. I know if I had to stay too long with my parents, I’d go bonkers.”

“That would be fun. Bye,” I said, and she left.

I hardly hard time to think about anything when a doctor appeared.

“Hello Christina. I just want to check you’re still okay. How’s the head?” he said.

“Not too bad. Aches a little around the bump and cut, but it’s manageable.”

“Okay, just look at me for a second,” he said, and then checked my eyes and pupils. I had to follow his hand movements, and look at his little torch. He asked me about my focussing, and at the end seemed happy.

“Good. The concussion has passed, and there doesn’t seem to be any compression. However, we just need to keep an eye on you over night. If you get dizzy, nauseous, any headaches, ear aches or anything like that, just let the nurse know.”

“I will, but I feel okay, just a bit sore around the middle.”

“You took a hell of a knock. You were very lucky that you were relaxed, otherwise you may have worse injuries. The arm will be in the cast for four or five weeks, and you may need some physio. But it was your long hair that really saved your life.”

“So everyone keeps saying. Just as well I didn’t cut it.”

“Just as well. Have you been to the loo yet?”

“Yes, I felt a bit woozy, but I managed okay.”

“Excellent. Take it easy, don’t rush anything, your head will ache for a while. The stitches will dissolve, but if you start getting headaches, then go straight to the doctor or local casualty.”

“I will.”

“Right then, try to get some sleep, they will give you pain relief if you need it. My colleague will be on the rounds in the morning, and you should be home for lunch. There is a leaflet here, which tells you about head injuries. Take it with you, and give it to your Mum or anyone you stay with.”

He left me, and I was given an indifferent sandwich, which I devoured and suddenly felt terribly hungry. The nurse was great, and she got me a Mars bar from the machine in the hall.

I watched a little TV and then fell asleep.
 
 
Hospitals are not exactly restful places.

I was woken up at about one in the morning by someone screaming. I went to the loo, and had to inspect myself again. I just couldn’t help grinning. I offered almost constant thanks to the Almighty, and was on Cloud Nine despite the pain and discomfort.

I dozed for a while, but I found that I couldn’t seem to stop touching those parts of me that were so new and wonderful. I was almost afraid to sleep, in case I changed back in the meantime. The nurse was obviously told to check on me every so often, and so that didn’t help.

In the end I managed to sleep a little, only to woken up by a nurse at some ungodly hour to take my temperature and blood pressure. I then had some breakfast of some cornflakes and toast. The doctor came on the rounds, and told me what the other one had said the night before. I rang my mother and told her that I would be discharged at noon.

I was allowed to change into my clothes, and Karen had brought me a white bra, panties, a short denim skirt, and pink top with straps. The clothes I had been wearing had been destroyed when they worked on me on the road, and in the back of the ambulance. I put on the bra and panties, marvelling in the fact that I actually fitted them, and grinned stupidly. My memory went back to the clown that I had looked when, as Christian, I had tried on my little sister’s clothes.

I put on the skirt and top and, sitting by my bed, tried to put on a little make up, one handed. It was not a fantastic success, so I asked the nurse to help.

She was happy to do so, but I thought that I really must try to get the hang of this. There were so many things about being a woman that I was very nervous of leaving the security of the hospital. It didn’t matter that I had wanted this for as long as I could remember, now it was reality, it was all terribly alien and frighteningly new.

She left me feeling much better, so I was amazed at the difference a little mascara could make. I was just tidying up when I heard a voice.

“Chris?”

I turned and saw a tall man, about my age, wearing a nice, but slightly rumpled grey suit and with dark slightly curly hair. He was looking rather drawn and tired. He had obviously cut himself shaving earlier, as there was dried blood on his neck, and little cuts on his jaw line. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

“Yes?” I said, and then the penny dropped. “Shit, Steve, you look terrible!” I said, trying to cover my confusion. I wasn’t the only one to change by the looks of things. How many others had this affected?

“Thanks. You look, well, you look great, considering,” he said. I could see he was trying to gauge whether I was aware of anything different.

“What’s up? You look worried?” I said, wondering whether in this world, he had always been like this, or whether, like me, he had experienced the reverse of what I had.

“Chris, this is going to sound crazy, but did anything weird happen to you yesterday?”

“Yes, I got hit by a van,” I said, smiling to give emphasis to the poor joke.

He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. He was almost in tears.

“I think I’m going mad! Are you sure nothing odd happened, apart from the accident, I mean?”

“No, like what?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking distressed.

“I’m pleased you’re okay. You make a stunning girl, by the way,” he said.

“I’m sorry?” I said. I now knew Stephanie/Steve was one other person with memory of ‘before’.

“Oh, shit! This is weird!” he said, and my heart went out to him.

“It’s okay, Stephanie.” I said, very quietly.

He looked up very smartly.

“What did you say?”

“Stephanie. Weird, isn’t it?” I said.

“Oh. Thank God!” he said. “I thought I was going mad.”

“No. Thank God for a different reason,” I said.

He took my good hand, and squeezed it.

“When I heard you’d been hit and that it was touch and go, I thought you had tried to, you know….?” he said.

“Shit, you didn’t?”

He smiled slightly.

“Anyway, then Karen told everyone what had happened, and I was very relieved until she said, ‘she is going to be alright, it washer her long hair that saved her life.’ I then thought, hang on, am I going bonkers or what? Then everyone started saying what a beautiful girl you were, and how dreadful as you were one of the sweetest girls in the world. I said nothing. I really thought I had lost it. I rang the hospital and was told that Christina Reynolds was out of danger and was now in the ward, and should be discharged tomorrow. Chris, I didn’t know what to do. The last I remembered you were a bloke, and it made no sense at all.

“I went home, got hideously drunk, and collapsed fully dressed on my bed. When I woke up, I was wearing this suit, and I am male. My flat is rearranged, and I have just bloke’s stuff everywhere. Shit Chris, I even had to shave this morning.”

“That didn’t go that well, I see,” I said, touching his battered cheek and he smiled.

“Anyway, I pressed the worst of the creases out and went to work in a daze. I kept seeing my reflection in the windows, and had to stop and check it was me. I got in at eight forty, and Mr Robbins asked whether I was alright. Me? Shit, he thought that I was in a state because of you, so I felt really guilty. He told me to get my arse down here and see you, and tell you that they’re all thinking of you, and to hurry up and get better.”

I started to laugh, and within a couple of moments, we are both laughing like a couple of fools. The nurse came in, and said, “Hello, you must be Christina’s boyfriend, don’t make her laugh too much, her ribs are still sore.” That made us laugh even more, and we both had tears rolling down our cheeks. Steve had his arms wrapped round me, and we just held onto each other.

My ribs hurt, so I stopped laughing a little.

“Let me look at you,” I said, and examined him more closely.

“Here, you really have cut yourself shaving,” I said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how you should do it, I just tried to copy the adverts on the telly. They were bloody useless!”

He was now about six foot and broad. He was very good looking and was just a larger and very much more masculine version of Stephanie. He looked good, and I said so. He had the decency to blush.

“How about you?” he said, with a smile.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” I said, giving a little twirl.

He shook his head.

“I can’t believe this. How?” he asked.

I told him everything I could, and he just shook his head.

“Isn’t it what you really wanted, I mean deep down?” I asked.

“Yes, but they could have given me a little warning. Like this morning, I was just leaving my flat, when my dad phoned. You know my parents, they disowned me when I told them I was a , you know. Anyway, he says, ‘don’t be late on Saturday.’, and I say, ‘for what?’, and he says, ‘Golf, we are playing at Buckinghamshire Golf club, tee off at ten.’ So I say, ‘okay.’ Shit Chris, I’ve never held a bloody golf club in my life.”

I laughed, and squeezed his hand.

“Oh Steve, what a bloody mess. Look, take Friday off, and I will come out with you at Wycombe Heights. There is a par-three course there, and a range. I can’t play with my arm, but I can give you the basics. I would say, have my clubs, but I don’t think they probably exist any more.”

“I’ve clubs, there is a whole bag of the buggers in my flat, together with all sorts of stuff I haven’t a clue about,” Steve was clearly exasperated.

I just smiled and squeezed his hand. He looked a little more relieved now.

“Hey, it’s the same for me. Hidden desires are one thing. Actually having those desires suddenly granted is a different matter,” I said.

“That’s true, but you look wonderful. Even your make up looks good,” he said.

“The nurse had to do that. I claimed I was in too much pain, so what happens from now on, is anyone’s guess,” I said.

He looked at me, and smiled.

“You really are a very pretty girl,” he said, a little shyly.

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” I said with a grin.

“How do you feel?”

“Apart from the bumps and bruises, I have never been happier. How about you?”

“The same, but without the bumps and bruises, the hangover I can cope with,” he said.

“Did old Robbins really think we had a thing going?” I asked.

“Yes, and so did a few of the others. I have no memory as a man at all. How about you?”

“Nothing. It’s so frustrating. Everyone accepts us for what we are now. It’s all beyond me,” I said.

“Is there a chance we could have been?” he asked.

I smiled.

“Oh, I don’t know, you aren’t totally repulsive,” I said, teasing.

“Well, you’re stunning, and I’d be honoured to be associated with you,” he said, semi formally.

I laughed.

“Steve, you’re about the only friend I have, so we can both help each other out here. It’s all too early to start planning the wedding, but I don’t see why we can’t be a little more than friends. However, shall we just get used to what has happened first?” I said.

He grinned.

“I don’t have a problem with that, but do you mind if I give you a hug?”

I shook my head, feeling my heart race a little.

He smiled, and carefully hugged me, and I felt his lips kiss my cheek. I moved slightly, kissed him on the lips, and then our tongues touched. I felt like I had been electrocuted and something happened to me. I seemed to tingle in places that I never knew I had, but the kiss changed into something completely different. His arms held me quite tightly, so I put my good hand behind his head, pulling his head towards me. I felt my new body responding, as I had a warm feeling spread from my lower regions. I also felt a very odd sensation in my breasts.

He broke off first.

“Phew. It didn’t take you long to get the hang of that aspect of being a woman,” he said.

“Sorry. It just sort of happened,” I said, smiling.

“Don’t apologise. It’s just another surprise in a day full of surprises,” he said.

We sat and chatted for a while, just holding hands. It seemed perfectly normal. He was a lot more relaxed now, having definitely cheered up.

“Can I really come and see you at your parent’s home?” he asked.

“Of course, you do know where I live?”

“Haven’t a clue, I hope you can remember,” he said.

I told him the address near Great Missenden, and gave him directions.

“Have you still got that motorbike, or have you suddenly become the owner of a seven series BMW?” I asked.

“I still have the bike, registered to Stephen Andrew Carter, not Stephanie Anne,” he said.

“This is so weird,” I said.

“You said it.”

“But in a wonderful way.”

“Yes, I have to agree. Now I get to kiss beautiful girls in public, and no one looks at me twice. Except enviously,” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t suppose now you are a bloke, you’ll only fancy other blokes?” I asked, teasing again.

He looked at me, and a slow smile came to his lips.

“No, Christina, absolutely not. I know exactly what I want.”

I blushed and felt very odd.

He reached out and drew me gently to him, and I didn’t exactly beat him off. Before I knew it, we were kissing again, and this was even more passionate than before. It wasn’t so rushed, but my toes curled. I was almost ready to get undressed, and would have given in completely, and I sensed he was the same. It was almost as if we had done this before, in another life, or something. However, there was something else, something holding me back, and I didn’t know what it was.

“Oh. So we are feeling better today?” came a familiar voice.

My mother.

I broke off from the kiss to see my whole family staring at me. Mother was open mouthed; Dad was smiling, while my sister Ingrid was grinning.

“Hi,” I said, very embarrassed.

“Well, Christina, aren’t you going to introduce us to your young man?” Mama said, her Swedish accent even more pronounced than usual.

“Steve, this is my dad and mum, and my sister Ingrid. Folks, this is Steven Carter, we work together,” I said, still very red.

Steve looked about as embarrassed as I was, and mumbled something.

My dad, bless him, simply took Steve’s hand and shook it, warmly.

“Thank you, Steve, for being there for Christina. I know she appreciates you being around, particularly when she feels so frail.”

Frail. Steve looked at me and grinned, he knew exactly how frail I was feeling. Randy, yes; confused, yes; frail, no.

“Well, I had better get back to the office. Nice to meet you all. I’ll ring you later, Chris, if that’s okay?” he said.

I reached out and took his hand, pulled him close, and kissed him right in front of everyone. I just didn’t care anymore. I was a woman, and I was on top of the world.

“Mmm, you’d better. And come and see me,” I said. I turned to Mama,

“It’ll be alright for Steve to stay a few days at the end of the week, won’t it?” I asked.

She looked a bit taken aback, so I grinned at Ingrid.

She had no choice really, as I was twenty-four and hardly a child anymore.

“Of course dear, we do have the SPARE bedroom.”

“So, there’s no excuse now,” I told Steve and he smiled sheepishly.

“Okay, I’ll get Thursday and Friday off if I can. I’ll ring you later. Bye,” he said, kissed me quickly and almost ran from the room.

“He seems a nice guy,” said Dad, bless him.

“Yeah, we have been good friends for ages, but, well, he is just that; a really good friend.”

Ingrid giggled and I smiled at her. She was four years younger than I was, and had just finished her first year at Cambridge. She was the linguist, studying French and European studies. Already fluent in Swedish, her stunning Nordic good looks meant an endless stream of boys were constantly at the door or on the phone. It began to dawn on me that might just have doubled.

“How long have you known him?” Mama asked.

“Since I started working with the firm. He is a couple of years older than I, and has been there a little longer,” I explained.

“How long have you been dating?” she asked.

“About ten minutes,” I said, and she laughed.

“At last. At least I know you aren’t a lesbian,” she said.

“Mother!” I said, embarrassed and yet it was somehow a little funny. No one else would get the joke though.
 
 
Two hours later, we arrived at my old home, and it hadn’t changed at all. Barney, our Flat-coat Retriever came and greeted us like long lost relatives. I looked up at the home that I had left a couple of years before. At least the outside hadn’t changed, but my old room had. Gone were the old posters, and sports trophies, the dark colour scheme and the various dubious souvenirs I had remembered collecting from my travels.

Instead, I found a light and airy room in pale rose and white; a pretty double bed with a red counterpane and a collection of soft toys. There were trophies, but for ballet and horse riding, piano and singing. Christina was a very different person to Christian. Mother just hugged me, as I stared at the room.

“I haven’t changed anything,” she said, and I started to cry.

“What is the matter Christina?” she asked.

“Mama, I can’t remember anything about my childhood. My memory was affected by the accident.”

“Oh you poor dear. Did you tell the doctors?”

“Yes, but they said it was quite normal to experience a degree of memory loss, but I’ve lost my childhood.”

“Well, we must put it back,” she said with one of her smiles.

“How?”

“Well, you know your Papa, he always have his camera, first the cine, when you were a little girl, and then the video camera. We have miles and miles of your childhood in a cupboard. We just said the other day that it is a pity that no one ever wants to see it again.”

I just hugged her, and we went back downstairs. After a light lunch, we then settled down to watch the films. It was fascinating. I started by watching an old cine film of my mother in hospital with me as a baby girl, and by teatime, we had progressed to video tape, and I was at primary school.

I could identify nearly everyone, but it was so strange seeing me dressed in little dresses and with long hair. The tears were never far away, as all my dreams were coming true, and I had not the words to express what I felt. He, upstairs, knew, I was certain of that.

“Your memory is not too bad,” Mama said. “You know everyone, so perhaps we help you get better.”

I hadn’t the heart to tell her that the people I remembered had not changed, only I had.

We sat on the patio, drinking mother’s special herbal tea. She’d baked a cake, which was lovely. Ingrid came and sat next to me, took my good arm and linked it with her left arm.

“I’m glad you’re home, it’s a bit lonely here, without you,” she said.

“How was uni?” I asked.

“Great. It’s really fun. A lot of the lecturers remember you.”

“Oh, for nothing too bad, I hope.”

“No, for your singing and performances in the shows, mostly. They were disappointed when I said I couldn’t sing like you.”

“But you can, Ing, I’ve heard you,” I said.

“No, it is not the singing, so much as the desire to put on a show. I’m too shy, where you just love an audience,” she said.

“Oh, Ing. That’s silly. You’re twice as pretty as me, and you sing just as well, if not better. You could do anything I can, and do it better,” I said.

She just smiled.

“Anyway, have you got a boyfriend yet?” I asked, and she went very red, and glanced at Mama.

“Brilliant,” I said, “Who is he, tell me all about him?”

“He is in my year, and we are both doing French. He is from Scotland and he is called Alex,” she said, with a little smile.

“Is he coming to see you soon?” I asked.

“Maybe. He’s on holiday in Portugal with his parents. They have been lent a villa out there. He wanted to ask me, but there wasn’t any more room, he has two brothers and one sister.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. When does he get back?”

“This Saturday. They fly into Heathrow, and then go up on a connecting flight to Edinburgh. I was hoping he could come and stay for a while,” she said looking at Mama.

“We will have to contact him. You could go to Heathrow and meet him. If he wants, he can come and stay. I have already phoned his Mama, and there is no problem with that. But he has various commitments in September that he has to get back for,” she said.

I had a happy sister. Mama decided that it was too nice to sit in watching any more films. Ingrid and I sat in the afternoon sun, playing about with makeup. I gave the excuse of my bad arm, so she helped me use the mascara and eyeliner with one hand. It was brilliant, as I learned an awful lot from her, and she didn’t twig at all.

Dad decided that it was a lovely evening for a barbeque, and as we sat smelling the chops start to sizzle, the phone went.

Ingrid answered it.

“Chrissie. It’s your fella.”

“Which one?” I asked, for Mama’s benefit.

“Steve.”

I went in and took the phone from my sister, who grinned at me.

“Hi Steve.”

“Hi Chris. My God, this is strange, I’ve had the most weird day.”

“Oh yes?”

“I’ve just got in, so I’m sitting here, stark naked, staring at what I now have between my legs. I’m having the greatest difficulty getting my head round the whole experience.”

I started to giggle, as I pictured him sitting on the floor staring at his dick.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes Steve, I’m still here. I’m just picturing the scene, and it’s very funny,” I said.

“Not from where I’m sitting,” he said, starting to laugh, and I felt a little better.

“Shit, I miss you,” he said.

“Why?”

“I just want to talk to you. You’re the only person I can talk to about this, and you’re miles away.”

“Come over.”

“What, tonight?”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

There was silence.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t.”

“What about your parents?”

I shouted out the patio door at Mama.

“Hey, Mama, is it okay if Steve comes to stay for a few days?”

“When?”

“This evening.”

“Sure. But he gets one of the spare rooms,” she said.

I smiled and put the phone back to my ear.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, I’m too screwed up to eat.”

“We’re having a barbeque, I’ll tell Dad to turn it down, I know we have some more chops in the freezer, so come for dinner.”

“You’re brilliant Chris.”

“No, I’m just happy.”

“I think I am, but it’s taking me a little time to adjust.”

“Well come and adjust with me.”

“Be there soon, bye.”

“Bye.”

I went back out and sat down with a smug smile on my face. Life was suddenly so much better.

“Mama, I’m going to take a shower. Do we have any plastic bags big enough for my arm cast?”

“Ja, we should have. Be careful with your cut head though.” she said. Ingrid came up with me, and we managed for me to take a shower, and washed my hair, very gently and carefully. There was quite a bit of dried blood in my hair, and it felt so much better when I got out nice and clean.

“Shit Chrissie! Those bruises are awesome!” Ingrid said, seeing my naked body. I looked in the mirror, and noticed that my ribs and thighs were all purple and blue.

“It’s better than being dead or completely bust up,” I said, as I gently patted myself dry with the towel. My broken arm gave me little pain, but made simple things difficult. Ingrid was great, and we managed to get me looking really good. I put on a clean dress, and Ingrid helped with my make up, nails and hair.

By the time I heard the rumble of a large motorbike on the drive, I was back on the patio, looking pristine and sophisticated.

Steve parked his bike, so Mama went and brought him round the back. He was wearing his black leathers, and looked very hunky. I smiled at the picture of him on the floor with no clothes on. He looked very different to the stocky dark girl called Stephanie, who belonged to both our memories.

He came right over to me and kissed me. I held on to him, prolonging the kiss a little.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself. You look wonderful,” he said.

“You look pretty good yourself.”

“Excuse me for interrupting this little scenario, but is your young man staying in his heavy hot leather clothes, or is he going to want to change for dinner? I only ask, because dinner is about one point three seven minutes away,” Dad asked.

Steve dashed off and Mama showed him the spare room next to mine. Two minutes later, he was in jeans and a tee shirt, and sat at the patio table being given a chop, some salad, baked potatoes and sweetcorn on the cob.

Dad came and sat down, when he shook Steve’s hand and said, “Welcome to chaos, my boy. It’s a pleasure to meet anyone brave enough to become close to our elder daughter.” From that moment on, Steve thought my Dad was the business.

It was a lovely meal, and even when Mama pumped poor Steve for his family history, it couldn’t spoil the perfect ending to the first complete day I had been Christina.

It was very tired, and so I was in bed by ten thirty. My parents always went to bed at that time, and would be up at seven. Ingrid would go to her room and watch TV or go on line. I just lay in bed, letting my mind drift over everything that had happened.

Steve popped his head round my door.

“Hi, okay for a chat, or are you too sleepy?”

I smiled, and shuffled over in my big bed. He was wearing jockey shorts and a tee shirt. He lay next to me, leaning against the headboard, on the outside of the duvet.

“Your parents are great.”

“Yeah, they’ll do,” I agreed.

“Where’s your mum from, Sweden?”

“Yup.”

“Can you speak Swedish?”

“Yup. We go over there nearly every year.”

He was quiet for a while, and I took his hand.

“Still confused?” I asked.

“Yup,” he said, and I laughed.

“How about you?”

“Nope,” I said, “just so unbelievably happy. It’s like finally coming home.”

“You were a good looking bloke, but you are an incredibly beautiful girl,” he said.

“I prefer you like this too,” I said, and he leaned over and kissed me.

“Shit, this is so weird,” he said.

“Why?”

“The other night, I was having this fantasy. I dressed you, the male you that is, up as a girl, and me as a bloke. We went out to a fancy restaurant, and had a nice meal, and then went dancing. You had an elegant long dress on, and long hair. You were very sexy, and I found myself getting turned on by the whole thing. Now I am in the same bed as you, but you are ten times sexier, and I am a real man. How more weird can you get?”

“What was it like?” I asked.

“What?”

“Being a girl, and wanting to make love to other girls?”

“Very much like being a bloke, and wanting to make love to girls. But now I have different equipment,” he said with a smile. “I mean, it wasn’t like I felt I was doing anything wrong, or unusual. It felt natural for me, but in the back of my mind was something that whispered, ‘this isn’t quite what you should be doing.’, but I learned to ignore it.”

“I prefer you as a bloke,” I said, and stroked his face. “You need a shave.”

“Tell me about it. What a pain. How about you, what was it really like before?”

“It was a living nightmare. I knew what I was, I knew what I wanted to be, and wasn’t able to be. Steve, I can’t tell you how miserable I was. It really was hell on earth.”

“Just you wait. I will not miss the curse. That’s the first thing I thought of, and I went ‘HOO-FUCKING-RAY!’ I tell you, I will not miss that mother, one little bit. I’m even willing to put up with shaving everyday for the rest of my life as long as I never get the curse ever again.”

“Ah, but then surely it is something you put up with, knowing that you can have babies?” I said.

“I never wanted a baby, not of my own at any rate. Now, I think it would be good to be a dad.”

“I want babies,” I said.

“Now? Move over and we shall see what we can do,” he said, and I laughed.

“No, not this minute, but eventually. I always wanted to be pregnant, and to know what it was like to have a life growing inside me.”

“I saw Alien, that was enough for me!” he said, and I hit him with my good arm. He kissed me, and we just lay together, kissing and caressing each other.

I sensed something was not quite right, but couldn’t put my finger on it. Anyway, Steve moved and I woke up. I had dozed off.

“Hey, I’ll leave you to get some sleep. I’m bloody knackered too, so I could do with a good night,” he said.

I kissed him, and he went back to his own room.

I lay there a while, thinking about Steve. I was very fond of him, and thought he was a lovely guy, but something was different. It was almost as if he was my brother or something. We were bound together by the most peculiar circumstances, and we needed each other, that was clear. It didn’t feel right that we should become lovers.

I felt a bit guilty, but it was how I felt. It was almost as if we were too close for that to come between us at this stage. In a couple of years, it might be different, but for now, we needed to be there for each other, and not complicated by being lovers as well.

I drifted off to sleep, and had a smile fixed on my new face.
 
 
Chapter 2
 
 
Ingrid woke me up with a cup of tea at ten o’clock. I had slept for ten hours.

“Is Steve up?” I asked.

“No, still fast asleep. He must have had a rough night worrying about you.”

“Yeah, I think he had a rough night, though what he was worrying about may be questionable,” I said, with a smile.

“He is very nice, how long have you been, you know?” she asked.

“We aren’t, we are just good friends, Maybe something deeper will develop, maybe not,” I said.

“You looked more than good friends, yesterday.”

“I know, I think that was reaction by both of us. I’m very fond of him, and we have shared a lot, we’ll see,” I said.

“Anyway, how do you feel?” she asked.

My head ached a little in the area of the bump, my ribs were still sore, and my bruises were sore when pressed. My arm was fine, and my spirits were still soaring, so I told her so.

“I can’t believe how cheerful you are. That time you fell off your horse and sprained your ankle, and had to keep off it for a few days, you were a real miserable bitch,” she said.

“Ingrid, I died, and I was allowed a second chance. It has given me a whole new outlook on life. It’s like I’m being allowed to make up for everything that was wrong with me, and become the person I really should have been.”

“Well, you’ve always been my elder sister, so I never thought anything was wrong with you. You were always so wonderful, I just wanted to be like you.”

“Oh, Ingrid. That’s sweet of you, but you have to be you. We’re not the same, and I’m not perfect, and never will be. We’re now grown women, and we should be the best of friends, so let’s just be pleased to be unique and different.”

She smiled, and I had to get up and go to the bathroom. She came with me, and we chatted away as I sat and had a pee. I realised that as girls, we were so much closer than as brother and sister. She was excited about meeting Alex at the weekend, so I just had to ask.

“Ingrid, are you still a virgin?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Good girl, so am I,” I said, hoping that was true.

“You told me on my birthday. It’s what keeps me from saying yes. Because if you can do it, then so can I. You know how Mama keeps saying that it is one thing that can only be lost once?”

“Is Alex the one?”

“I don’t know, we’ll see,” she said, smiling.

I cleaned my teeth and returned to my room. I put on jeans and a tee shirt, and Ingrid helped me with my hair and make up again. I went to Steve’s room and opened the door. I went over and looked at him sleeping.

I sat on the bed and he woke up.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” I said.

“Hi Chris. What’s the time?”

“Half ten.”

“Shit. I must have been knackered.”

“That’s okay, I’ve only just got up myself. I thought you would like a hand shaving.”

He laughed and trotted off to the bathroom. He had a basin in his room, so I dug out his shaving kit. He had a can of gel, and I showed him how to wash the face first, to soften the bristles, and then much gel to use. I then showed him how to go with the beard on the first pass, and then across it on the second. He got a good close shave, with no cuts.

“Brilliant. That feels so much better. Thanks,” he said, and then looked at me strangely. I laughed and he looked surprised. I immediately sensed that he was having similar thoughts as I about the nature of our relationship.

“Can I take a risk?” I said.

“Go on.”

“Steve, don’t get me wrong, I am very fond of you, and who knows what’s in the future, but our relationship is too special to fuck about with by us becoming lovers. I feel very close to you, but it’s not sexual. You’re a hunky guy and a mean kisser, but it is kind of like kissing my brother, if I had one. We need each other like no couple has ever needed each other before. We are bound together in such a way, that nothing can ever dissolve it. But we need to live, we need to breathe, and we need to explore the new lives that we’ve been given. If I make a fuck-up of a relationship, I need you there to help me through, and I can do the same for you. But what happens if we ruin our relationship, to whom do we turn?

“Who knows, in two years or so, we may end up getting together, even getting married, and having lots of screaming brats, but for now, I don’t feel that we should become lovers, but I’m terrified of hurting you,” I said, and sat on the bed waiting for his reaction.

He sat next to me, and put his arm around my shoulders.

“Oh, Chris. You’ve just put into words the feelings I have been struggling with for a couple of hours after I left you last night. I’ve been so afraid to hurting you that I just could not even begin to plan a speech. I agree with you so exactly, it’s uncanny. Thanks for being so brave and bright enough to express it so well.”

I kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks Bro,” I said, and he chuckled.

“We need the space to become who we should be, and if we tie ourselves up with each other, we may never really bother to do that,” he said.

“I still reserve the right to come back to you. And say, ‘okay, I’ve been out there, and I still can’t find the one.’, but only if you haven’t found your special person.”

“Agreed,” he said, looking very relieved.

We shook on it, so I left him to get dressed.

We had a quiet day, Steve and Ingrid actually got on very well, and I began to fight little pangs of jealousy. Dad worked at Amersham International, doing what he did. He once tried to tell us, and I still don’t understand. I just introduce him to people as my dad, the mad scientist.

Steve did some odd jobs that my father was putting off so that his daughters’ boyfriends could do them, and my mother immediately fell in love with him. I was so content that I wandered about with a silly smile on my face all day.

The three of us took Barney for a long walk across the fields and into the woods. He chased rabbits and squirrels, and I felt so at peace with myself. I wanted to run and jump with joy, but my bruises restrained me somewhat.

Steve stayed until Friday. In the morning, Ingrid drove the three of us to Wycombe Heights golf centre, and watched in amazement as I taught Steve the rudiments of the game. She was convinced that I had never played the game in my life, and Steve and I had a little chuckle.

Steve took to the game quite quickly, and did okay on the par three course, as he only lost three balls. He was so relaxed with me now; it was great that we cleared the air about our relationship. He really felt like he was my brother, and so much so that Ingrid remarked on it.

We were in the club house, and Steve went to the loo. She turned to me and went on and on about how she never knew I played golf.

“You and Steve are weird,” she said.

“Oh. What makes you say that?”

“Well, at the hospital, I thought you were an item, but you behave like he’s your brother. And he treats you like a sister, not a girlfriend.”

“As I told you, we are very good friends, and not lovers,” I said, “If we became lovers, our relationship would change, and somehow, we would lose out. So we have agreed to be more like brother and sister.”

“Why?”

“It’s very complicated, but we have a special bond, and so we want things to stay as they are for the time being. You never know, we may end up stuck with each other, but time will tell.”

Steve returned, and the conversation moved on.

We went home for lunch, and Steve said goodbye and took off on his bike. I could tell he was okay now, and was much more secure in himself.

The sound of his motorbike had hardly disappeared, when the phone went.

“Chrissie. It’s for you. Another boy, Mark?” Ingrid said, looking at me questioningly.

I laughed, and took the phone.

“Mark, hi.”

“Hello Christina. I just called to ask how you were?” the young cop asked.

“Are you at work?”

“No, I was just worried about you.”

I laughed.

“I’m fine. A bit sore in places, but otherwise I am fine. So this isn’t official, then?”

“No, it’s personal,” he admitted and I thought I could sense him blushing.

“Aw, that’s sweet of you.”

“I was wondering?”

“Yes?”

“Is there any chance that we could meet up? I don’t want to intrude, as you probably have a boyfriend, but perhaps for a drink, or something?” he asked, rather hesitatingly.

“I haven’t got a boyfriend just now, and I’d love to meet you. I have a problem, in that with my arm, I can’t drive. But why don’t you come out here, and have a barbeque with us, and take me for a drink afterwards?” I suggested.

He accepted and I gave him directions. I even persuaded him to stay the night, and my mother rolled her eyes, and went to change the linen on the spare bed.

“You girls and your boys. I can’t keep up,” she muttered.

“Mama, come on, we aren’t that bad.” Ingrid said.

She just smiled, and shook her head.

Ingrid spent the next hour trying to find out who Mark was and I just smiled sweetly, and said nothing.

I heard the sound of a car on the gravel drive, and walked round the house to see Mark parking his VW Golf.

He saw me and beamed the biggest smile at me. It was silly, but I swear my heart almost fluttered a little. He got out, and suddenly looked very tall. He was about 6’3”, and a lot heavier than Steve, but none of it was fat. He was very fair, as opposed to being dark, and he looked faintly Nordic too. He was looking quite smart, with a fashionable collarless shirt, and a pair of dark trousers. He looked at the big house, and appeared rather nervous.

I hadn’t thought about it, but it was a nice house, six bedrooms, three bathrooms and an acre and a half of ground. It was over a hundred years old, and had been in my Dad’s family since it was built. It was probably worth a few bob, but it was part of the family.

“Hi,” I said.

He smiled.

“Hello, I didn’t realise you lived in a big house like this,” he said.

“Would it have made any difference?”

“No. Not really. You look wonderful, Christina. You don’t look like the same person who was lying in the road a few days ago.”

“Thanks. You look better out of uniform,” I said, and he did. However, there had been something sexy about the uniform too.

He grinned, and looked awkward, so I went and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks for caring, I appreciate it,” I said, and he went red again.

“Here, I brought you these,” he said, handing me a lovely bunch of red roses. It was my turn to blush.

“Thanks Mark, they’re lovely.”

“Not as lovely as you,” he said, and I went a little redder. However, I was saved by my nosey sister coming round the side of the house.

“Oh. I thought I heard a car,” she said, eyeing up Mark something rotten.

“Mark, this is my sister Ingrid. Ing, this is Mark. Oh shit, I am so sorry, I have forgotten your last name.”

“Williams, Mark Williams,” he said.

“Hello Mark. Where did you meet Christina?” she asked.

“I dealt with her accident, and went with her in the ambulance,” he said.

“Oh. You are a paramedic?”

“No, I am a police officer. I was with her when they said she had died, and then brought her back,” he said, talking to her, but looking at me.

“Oh,” Ingrid said.

That shut her up. I thought smugly.

“We don’t have to stay here, come on round,” I said, and we walked round to the back of the house. The garden was looking lovely, and it was rather impressive.

“Wow! This is some place you have.” Mark said.

“It was built by our great, great grandfather, and we’ve been here since we were born,” Ingrid said.

“It certainly is a super spot. So, what does your dad do?”

“He is a mad scientist,” Ingrid and I said, simultaneously, and then burst out laughing. Mark looked at us as if we were mad.

“Seriously, he is a physicist, and works for Amersham International. He has tried to explain what he does, but we are none of us any the wiser. Even Mama hasn’t a clue,” I said.

“He is very sexy,” Ingrid said in Swedish.

“Yeah, and he’s mine, so remember Alex,” I replied in the same language. Poor Mark looked bewildered.

Mama chose that moment to come out. She had heard us speaking Swedish, and asked, in Swedish, “What is going on, girls?”

Ingrid replied, “I was just telling Christina that her boyfriend was sexy.” Still in Swedish.

Mama switched to English, “I have told you, it is very rude not to stick to English,” She turned to Mark, “ I am sorry, I have brought them up all wrong. I am Christina’s mother.”

“I am Mark. I am so pleased to meet you all,” he said, and Mama kissed his cheek.

“I remember you! You are the policeman who was with Chris when she was hit. You look different with your clothes on,” she said. Not a lot got past her, she only saw him for a second.

“Mama, you can’t say that!” I said, but was ignored. My mother knew exactly what she was saying.

“That’s right,” said Mark, “I still have had visions of her lying on the road, and the paramedic saying that she had no pulse. She looked too beautiful to die like that. I am so glad she didn’t,” he said.

Mama looked at him closely, and smiled, she fell in love with him too. She took his arm and took him on a tour of the house and garden. Ingrid looked at me and grinned. We went into the kitchen, and put the roses in a vase with some water. Then we just sat on the swing hammock and waited for Mama to finish with him.

“He is very nice, Chris,” Ingrid said.

“I think so, but I don’t really know him.”

“Yet!” she said, and we both grinned.

“He is very different to Steve,” I observed.

“Steve was very intense.”

“Steve had reason to be,” I said.

“Why?”

“One day I may tell you, but at the moment, it wouldn’t help.”

“Oh, go on!”

“No Ing. It is not important, and it is not something that either of us can share.”

“Oh, a mystery, I love a mystery.”

“Good, because it is staying one,” I said.

“Spoil sport,” she said, and I laughed.

We sat in silence for a few moments.

“Ing?”

“What?”

“Do I seem different since the bang on my head?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have to ask. I just feel odd with so much of my memory missing.”

Ingrid thought for a while.

“Yes, you are. You are more relaxed, more vivacious, if that could be possible. More of a flirt, happier, and more fun. Apart from that you are just the same old Christina.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You used to be rather more serious, and less impulsive. You would never just invite strange boys to come and stay.”

“Oh.”

“You are still my big sister, and I love you. I have always been in awe of you, but somehow we seem to be closer now. It’s nice,” she said, and gave me a hug.

“I feel very odd. It is like being born at 24. Having a second chance is a rare privilege, and I am not going to blow it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for a start, I am not going to toil away in a hum drum little office in London, regardless of the healthy salary. I will give my notice in, and do something completely different, and exotic.”

Ingrid looked a little worried.

“Why?”

“Because, Ing, I have taken for 24 years! I took from Mama and Dad, from school, Cambridge, and now I take from my job and everyone else. It is time to give back. Time to become a giver instead of a taker,” I said.

“Shit, Chris, did you get religion or something?”

“Ingrid, I died! I went to a place where I had no body, and I met an angel and I was given a second chance. It may have been a dream, but it felt very real. He told me that my life was such that there was no guarantee of going up. You get my drift? So on the understanding that I cease being a selfish person, I was given the second chance. I am deadly serious. If there is a God, then He has done me nothing but good.”

Ingrid looked at me, trying to see whether I was joking. I wasn’t and she realised it.

“I’m sorry Chris. I don’t know what to say.”

“Look Ingrid, you don’t need to say anything. You are my baby sister, and I love you. Now we are old enough to be friends as well as sisters, so no secrets.”

“No secrets,” she said, and then asked, “What about Steve?”

“Okay, one secret,” I said and she giggled.

Mama came back, bringing Mark with her.

“Right. I have put Mark in the spare room, I will go and put the tea on, so be nice to him. No more Swedish,” she said, and wandered off.

We moved over, and Mark plonked himself between us. The swing hammock swayed alarmingly.

We chatted about everything and nothing for a while.

“So, your mother is Swedish, how did your parents meet?” he asked.

“He went to Stockholm for a mad scientist’s convention, and Mama was an interpreter. They met and fell in love,” Ingrid said.

I suddenly got an itch on my left arm, about half way down the forearm, covered by the cast. I was fidgeting and trying to get a finger down the cast, but it was too tight.

“I’ll get a knitting needle,” said my sister, and dashed off.

It was really itchy, and I was going nuts. Mark started to laugh, and took a pen out of his pocket and tried sticking that down, but it was too short.

Ingrid returned brandishing an old knitting needle, and seconds later, blessed relief. The itch was scratched. Mama brought out the tea, and Ingrid went and helped with the tray.

Mama spent tea asking Mark all about himself and his family. She was like the Spanish inquisition, only more thorough.
 
 
Dad arrived home, and looked completely bewildered. Mama had disappeared to make some salad for the barbeque, and we were laying the patio table. Mark was standing looking a bit spare, as he didn’t know where anything was. Dad stared at Mark for a moment, when he went to work there was a dark haired boy hanging about, and now I had acquired a blond one.

“Hello, young man. I am the girls’ father. I assume that you belong to Christina, but then I have been wrong before. Things have a tendency to change without my knowledge around here,” he said.

Mark shook Dad’s proffered hand.

“How do you do, sir. I’m Mark. I was the officer dealing with Christina’s accident. We met briefly at the hospital on Monday.”

“Did we? Ah, forgive me, as I was just aware that Christina was alive. I am afraid everything else was totally unimportant.”

“I understand completely, sir. We tend to be a little anonymous in uniform anyway.”

“Quite. So, what brings you all the way out here? I take it this is social and not business.”

Mark blushed.

“He is a sweetie, and he wanted to make sure I was alright. The poor love has been plagued by visions of my lying in the road, looking dead,” I said.

Dad glanced at Mark, who looked slightly sheepish.

“It must be very hard to deal with these sorts of things objectively?” Dad asked.

“Yes sir, at times it can. Particularly when the victim is as beautiful as Christina,” Mark said, and I blushed. This was getting to be a habit.

“Well, thank you for doing your job so thoroughly. I assume you don’t undertake personal visits on all victims like this?” Dad asked with a grin.

Mark smiled and looked at me, and then at his feet.

“No sir, this is the first time I have done it. I have never felt like this before.”

“Mark, please don’t call me ‘sir’, it makes me feel really old. My name is David, so please feel free to call me that.”

“Thanks, s.., thanks.”

Dad realised that he had made Mark feel uncomfortable. So he kissed us two girls and went looking for Mama.

“I can’t call him David. What do I do?” he asked us, and we didn’t help by giggling.

“Don’t call him anything. Mr Reynolds will do, but he will tell you off again,” Ingrid said.

“How about your mother, I’ve been calling her Mrs Reynolds, is that okay?”

“Mama doesn’t care. Her name is Greta, but she isn’t bothered,” I said.

“Do you all speak fluent Swedish?”

“Dad doesn’t. He knows a little, so if we start trying to speak it behind his back, the chances are he knows what we are talking about. We have spent so many holidays with Mama’s family in Sweden, that Ingrid and I are fluent.”

“I did a bit of French at school, and I wasn’t that good even then,” Mark said.

“I am doing French at Cambridge,” Ingrid said, just to make him feel even more insecure.

“Do you play tennis?” I asked.

“I have done, not much though,” he said. Then he looked down the garden, and saw the tennis court for the first time. Ingrid fetched some racquets and a few balls.

“Come on, you and Christina against me,” she said. “The cripple and the novice against the incredibly beautiful.”
 
 
We walked to the court; it was a hard court, with green wire mesh fencing around it. The lines needed repainting, but were still just visible. Ingrid and I put the net up, and we knocked a few balls about for a while. I ached something rotten, and I realised just how hard I had been hit. I had to sit down, and watched Mark get the thrashing of his life.

He was actually quite good, but Ingrid had been almost county champion four years on the trot. He stripped off and by the end was sweating profusely, and had to lie down to catch his breath. Ingrid looked cool and unruffled, but then he had been doing all the running.
 
 
We took a completely knackered Mark back to the patio, and Dad appeared with a huge jug of Pimms. We settled down for a delightful evening. With venison sausages and homemade beef burgers, salad, French bread and cheese, we sat and spent four hours enjoying the warm evening in good company. Mark hadn’t had Pimms before, and treated it like lemonade. Thus, by his sixth glass, he had a slightly crooked smile. I realised that he was in no fit state to take me out for a drink tonight.

“So, who is going to Heathrow to collect Ingrid’s young man, and what has been arranged?” Dad asked.

“He is coming to stay for a week, and he has to then fly home,” Mama said. She had spoken on the phone with Alex’s mother.

“Right, this place is turning into a refuge for lovesick young men,” Dad said with a grin. Mark frowned and blushed slightly, and we all laughed at him.

“Alex is Ingrid’s, and they are at Cambridge together,” I explained.

“And Steven is Christina’s and is just a good friend,” Ingrid said.

“Ingrid,” I said, getting cross.

“Girls. Behave,” Mama said, and Dad chuckled away in his corner.

“You still haven’t answered my question. I am busy tomorrow, and I can’t go,” Dad said.

“I’ll go,” Ingrid said, but she sounded slightly worried. She had not driven much, and had only passed her test a few months ago. Heathrow was daunting for the most experienced drivers, so she was rather nervous.

“I can’t,” I said, and waved my broken arm in the air.

“Look, I’m off for the weekend, I know Heathrow, I would be happy to go,” Mark said.

“Then it looks like we are all going,” I said, and Ingrid looked very relieved.

“Are you sure Mark?” Mama asked.

He grinned.

“If it means spending a little more time with your daughter, then it is a pleasure,” he said, looking at me. I felt all funny, I couldn’t look at him and Ingrid dug me in the ribs with her elbow.

“OW!”

“Oh God! Sorry Chris, I forgot,” she said, and then giggled.

“Then as you are off for the weekend, you must stay. It will be nice, the two girls as couples.”

Mark agreed like a shot.
 
 
We cleared away the plates, and washed up. It was just getting dark, but Barney wanted another walk. With me home all day, he was getting to like the attention we were giving him.

Ingrid wanted to sort out her room, and make Alex’s bed in the other spare room, so Mark and I took Barney across the fields for a stroll in the dusk. He helped me over the stile, and kept hold of my right hand. I felt all tingly again. It was different to Steve, and I was enjoying the sensation. It still didn’t sweep me away.

“Who is Steve?” he asked, and I laughed out loud.

“What is so funny?”

“Me. I was just thinking how different you make me feel.”

“How?”

“Steve is a friend from work. We are really good mates, and if anything very much closer than most friends. But although we are fond of each other, it isn’t a sexual thing. He is more like a brother and we value our relationship for what it is, and not anything deeper. He came and stayed over the last few days, and he is having a mini-crisis of his own. Everyone thinks we are an item, but we aren’t. I laughed because when you hold my hand, I feel different to when he touches me. You don’t feel like my brother,” I said, with a smile.

“Good. I don’t know how to say this, but I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I know it sounds corny, but I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said.

I didn’t know what to say. He was very nice, hunky, and very good looking, and very sexy in his uniform, but I didn’t know him. So I said exactly that.

“Would you mind getting to know me?” he asked.

I stopped walking, and turned to look up at him. It was disconcerting being down here, as I was used to being up above the six foot mark. I liked everything else so much, that I was willing to forgo the few inches.

“Sweet Mark. I find it so romantic that you are besotted with me, and I would love to get to know you better. But I have two rules, one, I will not have sex with you, and two I am a free agent, and I am not any person’s personal property, unless I want to be. And if that happens, the rule one is negotiable,” I said.

He bent his head towards me, and I kissed him ever so gently on the lips. I felt his arms encircle me, and I put mine round his neck, and the kiss turned into something more.

I had responded to Steve’s kiss, and it had been nice. This felt slightly different. I felt my breasts tingle and my nipples became a little sensitive, and I was conscious of my pelvis as I pressed myself against him. Our tongues were dancing, and his hands pulled me gently towards him.

I stroked his head, and let my hand run through his hair, and his hands caressed my bottom. Then I felt one of his hands on my breast, and he rolled my nipple gently. I felt a warm glow spread from my groin, and realised that I was wet. I was feeling randy. It was a wonderful feeling, and a dangerous one.

Despite my very pompous little speech, I was almost ready to lie in the grass and let him fuck me.

Almost.
 
 
I broke off, and he was as turned on as I, as I had felt his erection through his trousers, and I was pleased and flattered that he responded to me as he had. I was also very afraid of making a mistake. I had been a girl for only a few days, so I was not ready to become a mother just yet.

“I think I love you, Christina,” he said, slightly breathless.

“Mark, you don’t know me. You saw a girl lying dead on a road, and now she is alive. The fact that I feel more alive than ever in my life is another matter, but don’t leap in just with your heart. We both need time to use our heads and that way if there is a future for us, it will be clear. If there isn’t, then that will become clear too.”

“Why do I think of you all the time?”

“Because you don’t occupy you brain with anything sensible,” I joked.

He laughed, and he lost his serious look.

“I’m sorry, it isn’t like me to come on so strong. I know you are right, but I honestly feel so odd.”

I kissed him again, to show that I wasn’t offended, and we continued our walk. He threw a stick for Barney, and I looped my hand through his arm. Mama had effectively questioned him earlier, but I wanted to know more about the inner Mark.

“Why no girlfriend?”

“There used to be. We were on the point of getting engaged, but something happened. She had been supportive when I joined the police, but she couldn’t take the shift work. She tried to persuade me to leave, and when I wouldn’t we drifted apart. We had been together since we were sixteen, and it ended last year. I’m 24 now, and I have quite enjoyed being free. We did everything together, and I came to realise that life became a series of compromises and deals. If I wanted to see an action movie, she wanted the next one to be a chick-flick.

“So we had a final dinner and agreed to split. She cried and accused me of loving the job more than her, and I said she wanted to mould me into something I wasn’t. In the end, all I felt was relief.”

“Do you ever hear from her?”

“No, we have met at a couple of events with mutual friends. We passed pleasantries, but that’s all. She has another boyfriend now, he is an estate agent of all things.”

I smiled.

“How about you? You told me about Steve, is there anyone else?”

“I don’t think so. He hasn’t made himself known anyway,” I said, and he frowned.

“I have lost parts of my memory in the accident. I can’t remember a lot of my recent past. It is very strange, but I am coping at the moment. It is random, but chunks seem just to be missing.”

“What did the doctors say?”

“They told me it was perfectly normal, and my memories should return. To be honest, it isn’t that bad, but it can be embarrassing at times. I forgot about Steve completely, but the memories do come back when jolted.”

“You must have had lots of boyfriends over the years.”

“I have lots of friends who are boys, men now. But my rule has meant that I am not an easy lay. The man who marries me will be the man who makes love to me for the first time,” I said.

“In that order?”

I smiled, “Not necessarily, but preferably. It depends,” I said.

He laughed. “Now there is a rare challenge.”

“If you keep kissing like you did, it may be easier than you think,” I said.

“All I know is that kissing you turns me into jelly,” he said.

“Then let’s make some trifle,” I suggested, and we kissed again. He was so tender and gentle with me, I almost became cross, but one twinge of the ribs reminded me, and I was grateful to him.

We came up for air, and Barney was barking at us to throw the stick again. Mark threw the stick, and we walked slowly back to the house.

“I accept,” he said, suddenly.

“What?”

“Your conditions. I accept them. Will you marry me?” he said.

I laughed and tried to tickle him. He wrestled me gently to the ground, tickling me. I screamed as if in pain, and he stopped, looking worried, and I tickled him again.

He pinned me to the grassy field, and I lay there looking up at him.

“You’re a bully,” I said.

“You’re beautiful. Marry me?”

“No, you’ll beat me up.”

“No I won’t, I’ll worship you.”

“I don’t want to be worshipped.”

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I thought you don’t want to be moulded into something you aren’t.”

“That’s different. That was her, this is you.”

“Mark, shut up, and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and kissed me.

“Now, will you marry me?”

I laughed, and twisted him off me. We lay side by side in the long grass.

“You are very sweet, and I am flattered, but no, Mark, I won’t. Because I don’t know you well enough, and because I am not ready for that sort of commitment or relationship. Ask me again in a year or so, if you still want to.”

“I can live with that.”

“But you do kiss very nicely,” I said, and went back for some more.
 
 
We arrived back at the house, and Ingrid helped me get the grass of the back of my clothes.

“Tut tut. I wonder what you two have been doing?” she said, grinning.

Mama and Dad had gone to bed, so we watched a little TV. Mark and I were sitting close together on the sofa.

“Did you let him, then?” Ingrid asked in Swedish.

“No, I did not,” I replied in English.

“I guessed that one, Ingrid,” Mark said, and she had the grace to blush.
 
 
Finally, I could not keep my eyes open, and I went up to bed. The movie was half way through, but I had seen it before, and felt my sleep was more important. I kissed Mark, and gave Ingrid a hug, and left them to it. Mark offered to come too, but I told him that I was a big girl, and to just finish the film.

I brushed my teeth, washed and put on my night dress, thanked God for everything, and I was asleep in no time, still with a smile firmly fixed on my face.
 
 
I woke at about eight, with an extended bladder. I scuttled to the loo, and discovered that I was bleeding. I had a momentary panic, and then remembered that I was now female, and things like that happened every month. I felt okay, perhaps a little bloated, but now I had a problem.

I dug out my mobile, and rang Steve.

“Hello?” said a sleepy voice.

“Could I speak to Stephanie, please?” I said, in a disguised voice.

“Speaki…. Sorry who are you after?” he said, rather more awake now.

“Stephanie.”

“Who is this?”

“Who is that?” I said.

“Chris, you little tart.”

“I love you too, Steve.”

“What’s up, it is bloody early?”

“I’ve come on. What do I do?”

“Oh, you poor cow. How do you feel?”

“Okay, a bit bloated, but what do I do?”

Steve, the darling, then told me everything I needed to know, and even offered to come over. I found all the necessary bits and pieces in the bathroom cupboard, and read the instructions.

“Thanks, my love. I’ll be fine now. You have a good day out with your dad, and remember, feet still, head down, and relax through the swing.”

“I will. Hey Chris, I met someone last night.”

“That was quick. Couldn’t wait to get rid of me?”

“You know it’s not like that. I went to the pub, the Lord Nelson, and do you remember Debbie Harris?”

“Yes, she was in accounts, and you fancied her rotten, and she was going out with some pratt in HR?”

That’s her. Anyway she was there with some of her mates, and she came over and asked if I was Steve Carter. I said I was, and she giggled. She said that she had always fancied me, but because I was going out with Christina Reynolds, she never got a look in. So I said, that you and I were very good friends, but were not an item, so to speak, and the next thing, she is sitting with me, and even came home to my flat. She didn’t stay, but she is keen to see me again. I’ve pulled, Chris, and now I feel guilty.”

“No reason to, we are not, as you said, an item. I value your friendship, and the future is an open book. I have dated another guy, and I don’t feel guilty. I have enough room in my heart to love you, whatever else is happening.”

“Thanks Chris, I feel better now.”

“Look, I have to go, I’m leaking.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, and good luck with Debbie. Call me and let me know how you get on.”

“I will.”

I managed to sort myself out, and was quite surprised at the mess. Being male does have certain advantages.

I was first down, after my parents that is, and Dad was faintly surprised to see me.

“Morning little love. How are you today?” he asked, and he finished his cereal.

“I’m okay, I hurt less, and am less stiff. I could do without the curse, but apart from that, I’m fine,” I said.

“Christina, your father does not need such information,” my mother told me.

“He asked, Mama.”

“That is no reason to tell him. Men are such delicate creatures, they function so much better in total ignorance of such things.”

“Christina, I value your openness, and respect you willingness to share your life with me. Many fathers haven’t a clue about what their daughters are up to, but at least you always tell me.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Mama laughed.

“Your Papa is told, and forgets everything we tell him. As I said, ignorance is their finest quality.”

“I am unappreciated here. I shall go to my workshop, and may appear for the odd meal,” he said, winked at me, and left the kitchen.

“What would you like?” Mama asked.

“I feel pretty shitty, just some juice and cereal will be fine, Mama.”

“When did you come on?”

“This morning, I lost track with the accident and everything. What time is Ingrid’s boyfriend’s plane?”

“It gets in at about one o’clock. So you should aim to get there just after that. It takes half an hour to clear customs and baggage.”

“What do you think of my policeman?”

“He is very sweet. So was the other one, Steve, is it?”

“Yeah, Steven.”

“So, you like them both?”

“Yes, but they are different. Steve is a good mate, and like a brother, but Mark is something else. He proposed to me last night.”

“Christina. He didn’t? You didn’t accept, did you?”

“No, I told him to ask me again in a year, if he still liked me. He’s nice, but I’m not ready for marriage yet.”

“You are 24. You can’t wait forever.”

“I’m not waiting forever, Mama. I am waiting for the right one.”

“Hmm. All those boys in Sweden, and you never liked them.”

“They were nice, but none was the right one.”

“You are too fussy.”

“No, I am careful. It has to be right. You told me that.”

She smiled, and hugged me.

“I know, Christina, and you are a wonderful daughter. You will make a wonderful wife and mother.”

“Ah. Now I understand. You want grandchildren to spoil.”

She laughed.

“Perhaps, but you are right, it has to be right.”

Ingrid came in, yawning. She was still in her PJs.

“Morning. Where’s Dad?”

“Morning my love, he is in the workshop,” Mama said, and hugged her.

“What time is the plane?” Ingrid asked.

“We have to be there just after one,” I said.

“Okay, I’m going for a shower. Is your policeman up yet?”

“No yet.”

“Do you want me to wake him?”

“No thanks, I want that pleasure,” I said.

I had my breakfast, and went up to his room. I opened the curtains, and he was dead to the world. I sat on his bed, and still nothing. I shook him gently, and he moved, rolled over and stayed asleep.

I kissed his cheek, and nothing. I had a naughty thought, and reached under his duvet and found what I was looking for. He had a morning stiffy. I gave him a squeeze, and he was awake.

I withdrew my hand, and he sat up, confused, aroused but awake.

“Now I know how to wake you up,” I said.

“Aren’t you going to do anything about it?” he asked, slyly.

“No, you had that before I got here. Have a pee, and it will go down. If you want a shower, there is plenty of water,” I said, kissed his stubbly cheek, and left him gaping after me.

Twenty minutes later he was downstairs, shaved, clean, and still in love with me. Mama spoiled him and cooked him a full English breakfast, and I sat and drank my coffee, and chatted. Ingrid sat and munched her way through her toast.

“How come you are so bloody cheerful? Before your accident, you were anything but a morning person, but now, I could quite happily strangle you,” my dear sister said.

“Well, as I said, I have changed. But it may be because I woke up with a little visitor, and have therefore been up longer than you,” I said.

“Huh?” said Mark.

“You don’t want to know Mark. Alright Chris, I understand, but you have even less reason to be cheerful, then.”

I sighed, and thought for a moment. Even feeling a bit shitty, having sore ribs, head, legs and a broken arm. I was so much happier than before.

“Well, I am happy to be alive, and that cuts through everything else,” I said.

“That makes two of us,” Mark said, looking soppy at me

“Actually, I am moderately pleased that you didn’t snuff it. But if you persist in being chirpy in the mornings, I will ask the driver to have another go,” Ingrid said.

“Poor little sod won’t be driving for a while,” Mark said.

“What will happen to him?” Mama asked.

“A hefty fine, a few years disqualification, and possibly a prison sentence. The last is doubtful, but if Christina had died, he would have gone away for a few years.”

“If I met him, I hate to think what I would do to him,” Ingrid said.

“Well, I have met him, and I forgave him,” I said, and Ingrid stared at me.

“Why, the little tosser nearly killed you?”

“Christina was wonderful. She didn’t have to see him, but she did. He was so cut up, he just wanted to say he was sorry. He said he was never going to drive again,” Mark said.

“He even bought me some flowers,” I said.

“Well, you are a very strong person to do that, my love,” Mama said.

“It was the main thing that attracted me to her. She had such compassion, her attitude saved that man’s life. He was suicidal, and as I took him away from the hospital, he burst into tears and said that Christina was an angel. You can’t walk away from that sort of thing untouched,” he said, and I felt quite tearful.

“I’d still have kicked him in the nuts,” Ingrid said, and brought the conversation back to earth.
 
 
Chapter 3
 
 
I was relieved that Mark was driving, as he obviously knew his way around the airport. The Robertsons were flying in with TAP - the Portuguese airline, and that meant Terminal Two, so Mark went straight to the car park. We were in the Terminal in no time.

We checked the monitor and saw there was a slight delay on the flight, so we went to one of the snack bars and had some lunch.

Mark watched a couple of armed police officers patrol through the concourse. They looked out of place with their MP5 Carbines across their armoured chests, and Glock 17 SLPs in their holsters.

“Fancy working here, Mark?” Ingrid asked.

“Yes, in a few years. It's different, that's for sure.”

“I couldn’t be a police woman,” Ingrid said. “All the blood and stuff, urgh.”

“Do you think I'd make a good police woman?” I asked.

“Of course, but I think you're way too nice,” he said with a smile.

“So, you only have nasty women in the police?”

“No, but I don’t know if you could be hard enough.”

“I can be hard if I want to be,” I said, defensively.

“Yeah, but you never want to be. Let’s face it Christina, you love everyone too much. You see good points in even the nastiest person,” Ingrid said.

“If I leave my job, I think it would be for something like the police,” I said.

“Oh, come on Chris. Why?” my sister asked.

“Because I want to give something back to the society I live in, and the police are a caring profession.”

“They don't care that much. Why not become a nurse?” she said.

“That’s a possibility,” I said.

“Or a social worker. But I can’t see you as a copper,” she said.

“I think you'd make a wonderful police woman,” Mark said, quite seriously.

“Really?”

“Come on Mark, you're biased. You want her in your panda car on night duty, for a little hanky panky,” Ingrid said.

“That sounds good too,” he said with a smile.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be for me. I think I would take things to heart too much. I’d like to do something that gives pleasure to people.”

“I’ve got it. A prostitute,” said Ingrid, rather loudly, so the two men at the neighbouring table looked suddenly nervous. Mark laughed, but looked faintly embarrassed.

“Hmm, what's the going rate these days?” I asked, which dissolved Ingrid into laughter.

“You two ought to be on the stage,” Mark said, and something clicked in my head.

“Oh no. Mark, you shouldn’t have said that,” Ingrid said.

“Why?”

“I know that look. She's scheming now. We're imagining ourselves in show business, aren’t we Christina?”

I just smiled, it was a pain when one’s sister knows one so well.

“I think you’d be a great actress,” Mark said.

“Oh, don’t encourage her, she will be terrible now.”

“Seriously, you have the looks, charm and presence, you’d be great.”

“Mark, I love you. Keep saying things like that and I will marry you,” I said.

“Chris!” Ingrid said, unaware of the previous evening’s exchange.

Mark laughed at her. I looked at the monitor and saw that the plane had landed, and that the baggage was in the hall.

Ingrid ran down to stand near where the passengers exited the customs hall. Mark and I sat in the coffee shop, to give her some space.

Mark took my hand.

“I know it was said in jest, but you said you loved me. I really do love you, I'm convinced of that now. But I need to know if I have a chance of you bringing yourself to love me?”

I looked at his big soulful eyes, and knew that he was so earnest. I smiled.

“Mark, you're very sweet, and I am very fond of you. Every time I see you, my heart flutters a bit, I like you touching me, and I enjoy being with you. You make me laugh, and I feel safe when you are close. I often think of you and your voice makes me smile. I'm not sure what being in love feels like, but if it's any of the above, then maybe I love you a little. Does that answer your question?”

He lifted my fingers to his lips, and muttered, “Thanks.”

Ingrid suddenly became very animated, and was waving furiously. The next moment she was being hugged by a huge bear of a man. Alex was another tall man, a rugby player without a doubt. He was as tall as Mark, but where Mark would be Number eight, or flanker, Alex was a second row forward. He had dark brown hair, quite long, and was obviously as pleased to see Ingrid as she was to see him.

Standing a little way behind the oblivious couple were Alex’s parents, two younger brothers and younger sister. The sight of Alex so captivated them, that I thought the younger of the two boys was going to wet himself with laughing so much.

I went over to his parents.
 
 
“Hello, I'm Christina, Ingrid’s long suffering and incredibly patient sister. You must be Alex’s parents?” I said, aware that Mark was at my shoulder.

“Hello Christina, I’m Bruce Robertson, and this is Sheila. That’s Dan, Greg, and Lucy. It must be hard, they haven’t seen each other for at least four weeks.”

“My mother says ‘Hi’. It's good of you to unleash your tiny little son onto us for a week. It might prevent my baby sister pining away all night,” I said, and they laughed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, this is my friend, Mark Williams. He is a relatively new acquisition by the female Reynolds, and poor chap, is still in shock,” I said.

Mark was gaping at my description of him, and I grinned at him.

Bruce laughed and told Dan to break up the canoodling couple.

“I understand that Alex has a full social calendar in Scotland, and that's why poor little Ingrid is being left all alone and miserable?” I said.

Again Bruce laughed, and Sheila joined in.

“Christina, Alex forgot to mention that Ingrid had a comedienne for a sister.”

“Ah, that’s because Christina has yet to meet the legendary Alex,” I said.

Alex and Ingrid approached the group.

“Alex, put her down for a moment. You haven’t met Christina, have you?” Bruce asked.

“No, but I have heard a lot about you. Hi,” he said.

I walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. He seemed quite shocked, and I grinned at Ingrid.

“Hello Alex, I've heard an awful lot about you too.”

“Oh,” he said, and looked worried, glancing at Ingrid.

“We have plenty of time before our connection. Why don’t we grab a drink, or a coffee or something?” asked Sheila.

The younger Robertson’s disappeared to the video games centre, and the remaining six of us went to the coffee shop.
 
 
Once we were settled in a booth, Ingrid and Alex became engrossed in catching up with what they had each being doing.

“So, what happened to your arm?” said Bruce, noticing my pink cast.

I was busy thinking of a witty answer, when Mark answered.

“She got hit by a van jumping a red light.”

“Ooh. Nasty. You were lucky not to have been badly hurt,” Sheila said.

“She actually died on the road. The paramedics brought her back. It was really traumatic,” Mark said.

“Really? You were lucky,” Bruce stated.

“No, it wasn’t luck. I was blessed by God, and given a second chance,” I said, quite seriously.

Bruce glanced at his wife, and then back at me. I could tell he was trying to see whether I was being to be funny.

“This is serious. I actually had a near death experience. I met someone, and was given a second chance. I never used to believe in God, or the afterlife, but I do now. I don’t joke about that,” I said, and smiled.

“Did Ingrid tell you what I do for a living?” Bruce asked. I shook my head.

“I'm the headmaster of a school near Perth, and I am also an elder of a Church in Perth. And I am so pleased to find a young woman with both strong faith and a sense of humour.”

I smiled.

“Both are essential, don’t you agree?” I asked.

“Absolutely.”

Sheila said something to her husband. He nodded and said, “Why not?”

“Christina, are you and your young man free for a couple of weeks?”

I looked at Mark in surprise, and then at her.

“I am, I'm off work with my arm for a few weeks. But I can’t speak for Mark,” I said.

“I haven’t taken much leave this year, I should be able to take two weeks off. Why?” he asked.

“Well, we have the Angus Ball in Kirriemuir, and the Perth Ball in Perth, all within two weeks. As well as six private dances around the area. Now the younger three are all off to stay with friends, and will be going to different parties, so we thought we would host our own wee group. We were going to ask Ingrid if she would like to come, but it would probably be more fun if the three of you were to come up, as there will be eight our age and now four of you in your twenties. We have plenty of room, and I am sure you would enjoy yourselves.

“You could bring Alex up at the end of next week, and if you came by car, you would be as independent as you want.”

Alex and Ingrid had managed to tear each other apart for long enough to hear this offer. Ingrid grinned and nodded furiously at me. I looked at Mark, who excused himself, taking out his mobile phone.

“That sounds wonderful, I would certainly love to come,” I said, and Ingrid didn’t have to reply, she was already hugging Alex.

Mark returned.

“I've spoken to my sergeant, and I have commitments this coming week, but I am free for the next two weeks, so if it is possible, I would love to.”

“Excellent. That's settled. I am sure it will be fun, have you thought how you will get up?”

“I don’t have a problem driving,” Mark said.

“We could share the driving, if you put us all on your insurance,” Alex said. He had a very sexy Scottish accent. Not broad, but educated, more a burr than a full accent.

We left his parents, making our way to the car park, where we managed to find Mark’s VW. Alex and Mark sat in the front of the car, and we sisters sat in the less spacious rear. Alex and Mark got on very well, funnily enough, they were both rugby players, and played in the positions I had envisaged.
 
 
The weekend was fun. Alex was a super bloke, and I felt really happy for Ingrid. They were so obviously right for each other, and totally potty in love. I felt slightly envious, but then they had been an item for several months, and I had only been a girl for a few days.

Mark had to leave on Sunday night, as he was at work early the next morning. I walked out to his car with him, and watched as he slung his bag in the back. He had said goodbye to my parents, and given my mother a lovely bunch of flowers by way of thank you.

He turned to me, and put his arms around me.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Rarely, but which bit specifically?” I asked.

“When you told me that you ‘maybe’ loved me a little.”

“Oh, that bit.”

“Yeah, that bit.”

“Hmm, what do you think?”

“Christina, you're the most frustrating girl I have ever met. You send me such confusing signals, I just never know where I am.”

“So don’t you want us to be more than friends?”

“You know I do.”

“Then, I suppose we could, then.” I said, and he kissed me.

“Thanks Chris, you have just made me the happiest person alive.” he said, lifting me off my feet.

“Ow! Mark you can’t do that yet. My ribs.”

“Sorry babe.”

“Mark, if we go anywhere with this relationship, please don’t call me ‘babe’, ‘darling’, ‘love’, or anything corny like that. I have a name, and I’m sure we will find something more imaginative as time goes on.”

“Sorry snookums,” he said, with a silly grin.

I laughed and kissed him. He pledged undying and eternal love for me and got into his car. I watched him drive away, and felt sad, but I still did not believe that he was the one. Still, I would see him in a week’s time, and then we would spend two weeks together. That would sort things out, one way or the other.
 
 
I spent the week just trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life. I called Mr Robbins, my boss, and was quite frank about my position. He said that he understood, as accidents like that had a tendency to change lives. I was to have as much time as I needed to get my arm right, and my head right too. I appreciated his willingness to be so accommodating, and he told me that my job was safe for as long as it took.

I rang Karen, and she popped out for a day on the Wednesday. Alex and Ingrid were off in her mini, just being together on their own for a while.

“Have you heard about Steve?” she asked, looking a little concerned for me.

“You mean about him and Debbie Harris from accounts? Yes, he told me several days ago,” I said.

“You knew? I only found out yesterday. I thought that you and Steve had a thing going,” she said, very surprised.

“Karen, I'm very fond of Steve, and I know he is of me, but we are not an item. We're just very good mates. Look, he came out here last week for a few days, and we talked through all sorts of issues. We're more like brother and sister, so we value each other as friends too much to spoil in by becoming lovers at this moment in time. Neither of us know what's in the future, but for the present, I am only too happy he has someone he can love.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, I have someone too. Do you remember the policeman?”

“You didn’t?” she said, genuinely shocked.

I grinned and nodded.

“He rang me up and offered to buy me a drink. He ended up coming for the weekend, and only left on Sunday night.”

“What are you like? Mind you he was very hunky.”

“We're going up to Scotland for a couple of weeks.”

“What, just the two of you?”

“No, my sister, Ingrid and her boyfriend, Alex, are coming with us. Alex lives up there, so we'll be staying with his parents. Apparently there are loads of functions and parties, so it should be fun.”

Karen gave me a funny look.

“No, I didn’t. Before you ask. Two reasons, one, I had the curse, and two, I have yet to find that special someone. It's too early to tell whether Mark is the one. But I don’t get the buzz that I should, so I doubt he is.”

Karen’s mouth fell open.

“You mean you still are, you know, intact?”

“You mean a virgin? Yes, and only my future husband will change the situation.”

“You are never going to wait until you're married?”

“I never said that, did I?”

“You said, your future husband. Oh, I see, he may not necessarily be your husband when you do it?”

“Well done! You got there in the end.”

“I never knew you had never done it, we all assumed you and Steve had.”

“Never assume, Karen, it's dangerous.”
 
 
Alex and Ingrid appeared, and Alex mentioned that we would need long formal evening dresses for the Scottish trip.

“They will have to be elegant, but capable of extreme physical activity. Scottish dancing is very strenuous,” he said.

“Will you be in your kilt?” Ingrid asked.

“Of course.”

“So, for people like Mark, what will be best for him?” I asked.

“I told him that he could either hire or borrow a kilt and the accessories, or a Dinner jacket would be fine.”

“I’d like to see him in a kilt,” I said.

“Chris, shall we go and see if we can’t find some dresses this afternoon?”

“Haven’t we got anything suitable?” I asked.

We left Alex with the dog, and went to our rooms. I had popped to the flat on the Monday, and checked my post, emails, and picked up some of my clothes. There wasn’t a suitable long dress there.

I had nothing, and the few that Ingrid had were either too fragile or not elegant enough. Mama showed her some of her old dresses, but none were really us.
 
 
With Alex in tow, we set off for Aylesbury, and went looking for some clothes. I had the advantage of having a healthy bank account, as Ingrid was a poor student. She wasn’t really, as we had each inherited a fair amount from our grandparents, both the English ones, and the Swedish ones. Ingrid couldn’t touch hers for another month, as she wasn’t twenty-one yet.

I was introduced to the amazing world of female retail therapy. I loved every minute. We spent ages wandering in and out of shops, trying stuff on, smelling perfume, trying out cosmetic products, and doing what I had always dreamed of doing. Simply being a woman!

Poor Alex! His patience was stretched to breaking point, but we were successful. I bought a very elegant ice blue long dress, with low bodice and long sleeves. With my plaster cast, I didn’t want to stand out, but I wanted to look my best. The dress was essentially white, but the very pale blue seemed to be woven in to make it shimmer slightly. It was flowing and pleated, and of a very light material, so I would not get too hot or constricted. When I spun round, it fanned out completely, and formed a perfect circle, and if I went fast enough, it showed my knickers and all my legs.

Ingrid chose a similar dress, but strapless. It was very daring, but she had a smaller bust than me, so could get away with it. Mine lifted and displayed my breasts, while her dress held and accentuated hers. With our very blonde hair, they looked wonderful, and Alex kept making lewd suggestions involving threesomes.

The lady in the shop was very complimentary, and suggested shoes and other accessories. She produced a tiara, bracelet, earring and necklace set, all costume jewellery, which made us look positively regal.
 
 
As Alex said there were several parties, we naturally couldn’t wear the same dress too often, so we bought a few more each. I selected a black silk long skirt, and several tops that would match, and a sleeveless long red dress, that was not so good for the dancing, but made me look stunning. So by the time we returned to Ingrid’s little car, we were very heavily laden.

We took him out to dinner, and Ingrid was making up for him having a boring afternoon.

He grinned, “I've had the time of my life. I have had two gorgeous women prancing about in their underwear, dressing up in stunning outfits and asking for my opinion. As if I have the faintest idea of what women want,” he said.

“You know what we want. And that's half the battle.” I said.

“You didn’t do so bad yourself, I have never met a woman who knows what men want quite so accurately.” he told me.

I smiled, if only he knew.

We returned home, and of course subjected Mama to an impromptu fashion show.

At the end, she shook her head, and smiled at us.

“Oh my. My little girls are not so little any more. If you can’t snag husbands now, you never will.”

I called up Mark, who was at work. He couldn’t speak, so he said he would call me back later.

Eventually he did, just as I was going to bed.

“Hi sweetie,” I said.

“Hi snookums.”

I laughed. “How was your day?”

“Rough. We had a nasty burglary, where an elderly woman was tied up and beaten. She's in the same hospital that you went to. I'm getting to know all the nurses now.”

“You leave them alone,” I said, laughing.

“How about you, what have you been up to?”

“We went shopping for clothes for Scotland. I've bought this red dress, you'll love it.”

“Really, is it my size?”

“No, you fool. You will love me in it.”

“I love you in anything, or stark naked. If you wore a bin liner, I would still love you,” he said.

“You're a soppy sod,” I said, but pleased.

“I do love you Chris. I think about you all the time. I can’t wait until next week.”

“Talking of next week. Have you decided what to wear for the formal dances?”

“I was going to hire a dinner suit.”

“Why don’t you wear a kilt?”

“I’d look a prat in a kilt.”

“No, you wouldn’t. If you wear a dinner jacket, you will look more out of place than if you wore a kilt. Alex says that the majority of blokes will be in kilts.”

“But I’m not Scottish, I don’t even know which tartan to go for.”

“Half the people in Scotland haven’t a clue either. Alex knows a friendly shop that hires them, so don’t do anything until we get there. Okay?”

“If you want me to wear one, I’ll wear one,” he said.

“You are lovely.”

“Marry me.”

“Pooh. Let's see if we manage to survive two weeks together, first.”

“You didn’t say no.”

“I didn’t say yes either. You may have second thoughts after two weeks.”

“Never.”

I heard some raucous laughter in the background on his phone.

“What are you up to? Are you in the pub?” I asked.

“Yeah, a few of the shift have come for a drink. They're all taking the piss because I'm soft on you.”

“Cheek. Tell them to get a life or a good woman,” I said, and heard him repeat my words. There was some jeering and kissing noises in the background, and he laughed.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. I miss you,” I said.

“Shit, Chris, what I’d give to be with you right now.”

“Well, you may be anxious to be rid of me by this time next week.”

“No way.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I put the phone down, still not convinced that he was right for me. I was beginning to appreciate that things were not as cut and dried as I had envisaged. He made me feel good, and I liked him a lot, but then Steve was the same. Mama said, ‘when the right one comes, you’ll know.’

I was still waiting.

On Thursday, Mark phoned. It was bad news.

“I can’t have the two weeks off,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I have been warned for crown court in the second week. My sergeant says that because the leave wasn’t registered, then I must attend. It's a serious case, and there are too many witnesses to adjourn it.”

“Can you come at all?”

“Yes, I can do the first week, but I have to be back for Monday morning.”

“Oh, bugger!” I said.

“Yeah, but at least I can do the first week. How will you get back south?”

“That’s not a problem, we can catch a train or something.”

“With all your luggage and a broken arm?”

“We’ll manage. I shall have to flirt with some rich Scotsman who will fly us home in his own plane.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said.

“OOOH! Jealous?”

“Yes! I've only just found you, I don’t want to lose you to some bloke in a skirt.”

“You may be one of them soon.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Never mind, a week is better than nothing,” I said.

“Yeah. I’m excited about seeing you again.”

“Me too.”

“Really?”

“Really. For some obscure reason, I have become quite fond of you,” I admitted.

“Fond enough to marry me?”

“Mark!”

“Sorry. Boring.”

“Yes, we’ve been there, don’t pressurise me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“See you Sunday, Bye.”

“Bye.”
 
 
The rest of the week passed, and Mark arrived on Sunday afternoon. The idea was we would set off at six on the following morning and be in Perth by lunch time. Mark was like an excited puppy, and was very tactile towards me. Initially, I was flattered, but it became rather tedious, so I had to slap him down, nicely of course.

It was amusing when we all packed. Alex didn’t have very much, and neither did Mark, but Ingrid and I had two enormous suitcases, into which we only just managed to squeeze everything in. If it hadn’t been for the roof rack that Mark borrowed from Daddy, we’d never have managed.

We set off nearer seven am, due to Ingrid being very slow to wake up. She had this unwelcome visitor. This time, I was relieved to know that I should be spared that for the duration of the trip. Knowing I would end up scrunched up in a car for the majority of the day, I wore a short skirt and a tee shirt.

The lads sat in the front, but by the time we hit the M40, Ingrid had dropped off to sleep again, her head against my shoulder. I sort of dozed as the boys were talking rugby, so I wasn’t the least bit interested. I had played the game, and even been quite good at it, but I was so glad that that was in my past.

We stopped at Gretna Green for some coffee and to go to the loo. I gave Mark such a look that not one joke about eloping was made. He was rather subdued since I had had a go at him the previous evening. I felt sorry for him, so made a bit of a fuss of him. I smiled, as men were very like dogs, and responded to things in the same sort of way.

Mark made me sit next to him for the second leg, as Alex rather wanted to cuddle up to Ingrid, who was demanding some attention. We put some decent music on the CD player, and the miles flew by.
 
 
We arrived at the Robertson’s house at twenty past one. It meant that PC Mark Williams exceeded the speed limit for 93% of the journey.

I was stiff and uncomfortable due to the bruising, and was very glad to have arrived. Ingrid and Alex unfolded themselves from the backseat with some difficulty, so were just about free when Bruce came out to greet us.

The house was an old one, set in the large and impressive grounds of the big public school, Strathalmond. The Victorian buildings formed two quadrangles, with a central dining hall and a chapel next to it. The cloisters had ornate windows, and the Northern aspect had a clock tower. Originally designed and set up for the sons of clergy, it was now an expensive and exclusive school for boys and girls from 13 to 18. Many more modern buildings had been slotted in, some with some thought and others in a rather sporadic fashion.

Now, as it was in the holidays, it was deserted, and very peaceful, but on the day we were due to return to England, the Christmas Term was due to start.

We were welcomed very warmly. The three younger Robertson’s were away with friends, and so it was very quiet. Sheila showed us to our rooms, after discretely enquiring whether Mark and I were a ‘sleeping’ couple or not. When I said ‘not’, she seemed faintly relieved, but surprised. I explained that I had rather traditional views concerning pre-marital sex.

She obviously mentioned this to Bruce, because later, when I was unpacking, he popped in and sat on my bed as we talked. Being a committed Christian, he was interested in my position, and questioned me about what I had said to his wife. I stated that I was recently acquired a belief in God and the afterlife. I was also clear that I was not impressed with the church, arguing that it did not present a unified and positive image to the youth in our society.

“You see, I actually agree, as it is my belief that the church consistently fails to present a relevant alternative to life’s attractions for young people. So how would you attract young people to a faith in Christ?” he said.

“Ah, that's a difficult one. First you have to do away with the hypocrisy within the church. Then you have to get rid of the politics and inter-denominational squabbling. If Biblical truth is the starting point then you have to clean up by removing all paedophiles and predatory priests, and I suppose the most crucial factor is to ensure that the Holy Spirit is given the freedom to move amongst His people.”

Bruce stared at me for a second, and then smiled.

“Ah, it seems that we have an awful lot of work to do. If you could advise a local church on one activity which was reasonable, what would it be?”

I laughed at him.

“All Christians should shine with Christ-like light in everything they do. Their lives should reflect the love of Christ, rather than telling people how wonderful Christ is, they should be living lives that show everyone who cares to look, how wonderful Christ is. That way people would come to them and ask why they are as they are, and only then they can tell them,” I said.

He smiled.

“How long have you had a faith?”

“About two weeks,” I said. “Ever since I was killed by that van, and had that near death experience before they brought me back.”

“You have a clear and mature outlook for two weeks.”

“Oh, I have a GCSE A grade in RE, but it meant nothing then,” I said, smiling.

“Tell me more about your near-death experience?” he asked. I told him everything, except the change in gender. I thought that was something best kept secret.

“Would you be willing to share that testimony to some young people?”

“Yes, of course, if it will help.”

“Mark said that he was the officer who dealt with the accident. Did he actually see it happen?”

“Yes, he was on the other side of the road. He heard the brakes, and as he turned round, he saw me being hit and thrown into the air. I think it had a profound effect on his life too. If only to think I'm a fallen angel or something,” I said, smiling.

“It's a wonderful story, which could be such a good learning experience for others.”

“I don’t know about that. I still have a broken arm, and nasty bruises all over my body. I am still missing huge chunks of memory. But I was given a second chance, so I've learned to thank Him for all my blessings, instead of taking everything for granted.”

“Are you going to be alright for the dancing?”

“Oh yes. I should be, but we will need some extra coaching before we get let loose for real.”
 
 
I finished unpacking and we went down stairs. The others were already there, and Alex showed us round the school. Mark had gone to a local comprehensive school, and he was amazed at the place.

“Did you come here?” he asked Alex.

“Yes, it was a wee bit strange with Dad as the Head, but I got no favours. If anything everyone expected me to be even better than everyone else, so I had a tough time.”

“It is very different from my school. There were nearly 2000 kids at my school, how many are here?”

“About 400.”

Mark lapsed into a stunned silence.
 
 

*          *          *
 
End of Part 1
 
 
To Be Continued...

 
Chris Reynolds, always wanting to please his family as he was growing up, knew that something about himself was amiss: His body was just plain wrong! This sense of wrongness pervaded him and eventually sank him into a deep depression.

One fateful day, deciding to end it all, Chris wound up being caught in a freakish accident in which he was killed - only he didn't die!

Finding himself alive was the first thing he was surprised at. Finding his lifelong prayers answered, through some sort of swapping of bodies during death with another person - a girl equally as depressed as himself, and in a similar situation as he - except she had always desired to physically be a man, was simply amazing!

Chris, now Christina, pursues living life to it's fullest, but once again realizes something missing from her life. Will she find her answer?

Just what will Christina do with her Second Chance?

---

Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

---

 
The Legal Stuff: Second Chance © 2009, 2010 Tanya Allan
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
Please enjoy.
Tanya
 
 

 
 
 
Chapter 4
 
 
The school and surrounding countryside was truly magnificent, so the four of us went for long walks along the river in the sunshine. There was even a golf course, where Mark and Alex could battle it out in the heather. Mark actually accepted things by giving me some space, but he would watch me with that dopey expression all the time.

We had a few days before the first party, so spent the evenings practicing the Scottish dances. It was hilarious at first, as we just hadn't a clue how to do them, but the more we did, the better we became.

My arm was fine, and my bruises were less tender. However, I was still aware that I was a little fragile, so was determined to take it easy. Bruce and Sheila were fabulous, and were very patient with us. The first party was a private one, one of Alex’s friends was twenty-one, and it was at his large house between Perth and Dundee. Alex had told him that he had the three of us staying, and so we were invited as well.

I was keeping my spectacular ice-blue dress for the Balls, so I wore my black silk skirt with a diaphanous black silk top. It had long sleeves, as I wanted to keep my cast covered. It was cut low across my bust and showed my cleavage in all its glory.

Ingrid wore a white dress that looked wonderful on her. With our very blonde hair and Nordic looks, I had to admit that we were a very striking pair. There was no doubt that we were sisters, not twins, but definitely sisters. She was slightly shorter than I, and I had a larger bust, but she was very slim and more graceful. There was a six-foot bloke lurking in my past, so I was still new at this grace business.

I wore some really pretty jewellery that had black onyx set amongst the diamonds, and I had a simple gold crucifix set on a chain between my breasts. Ingrid had to help me with my nails, as the cast was a real pain, but when we joined the men downstairs, they stared at us with open admiration.

Mark was looking rather self-conscious in his hired kilt and accessories. He looked fabulous, but I knew that he felt rather uncomfortable. Alex was dressed the same way, but he was at ease with it, he had worn his kilt every week for years.

"Wow! Girls, you look absolutely stunning!" said Sheila, breaking the silence. "Alex, stop dribbling, dear," she told her son.

Alex took us in his father’s Volvo, for which I was grateful, as the Golf was fine, but not when dressed like this.

I sat in the back with Mark, who had yet to say anything.

"You look great," I told him.

He shook his head.

"I had no idea," he said.

"About what?" I asked, frowning.

"I knew you were beautiful, but never did I dream you were this beautiful."

I blushed, and Ingrid snorted with laughter in the front.

"That goes for you too, Ingrid. You're two of the most fabulous girls I've ever seen. I just feel completely unworthy to be see with the pair of you," he said, and that set us all laughing. The problem was he was perfectly serious.

"You're a sweetie, and it's nice of you to say lovely things about us, but it's all make-up," I said, and Ingrid laughed.

"No it’s not. I've never met two girls who use less make-up. You're simply natural beauties," Mark said, to which Alex agreed.

We pulled up in front of the most enormous house, and if Mark was uncomfortable at our home, this would scare the shit out of him. Built in the Victorian age, it was a Gothic monstrosity that must be a nightmare to maintain and heat. It was truly magnificent and very ostentatious, in a very ugly way.

"Bloody hell!" said Mark. "People actually live here?"

"Aye. My friend Jamie and his folks," said Alex as he parked the car in the field provided. Lots of other cars were arriving, and Alex was hailed by most of the other people. Jamie’s sister, Mary, was celebrating her eighteenth at the same time, so the other party-goers were all our sort of age, with quite a few younger.

We went in the main front door and entered the hall. Mark gasped as he took in the myriad of dead animals, many still with antlers or horns attached, that stared down at him from amongst the austere portraits of long dead ancestors. Arms and armour were scattered about the place, and he looked totally lost, poor love. I took his arm and gave it a squeeze.

"You’ll be fine. Just remember that very few people actually live like this, so just pretend you’ve been doing this all your life," I whispered.

He smiled, somewhat nervously, and chuckled.

"If my shift could see me now," he said.
 
 
We walked through the house to the ballroom, which was enormous too. The plain sprung wooden floor was ready for dancing, while around edge of the room, chairs had been placed to sit out a dance, if one so desired. There was a proper seating area set aside in an antechamber. Dinner was a buffet in the dining room, which was through the double doors at the end. There were already about eighty young people in these rooms. Virtually all the men were wearing the kilt, while all the girls were in long dresses.

"Alex. Great to see you, man," came the voice of a shorter young man with sandy hair. He extricated himself from a group of people and made his way over to us. He was wearing a green velvet kilt jacket, which had lacy cuffs and looked a little ostentatious too. There was a hush in the conversation, so I suddenly felt that all eyes were on us.

"Jamie, it’s grand to be here. Happy birthday," replied Alex.

"Oh, my birthday was last month, but we were in the Seychelles," Jamie said, and then noticed us.

Alex introduced us.

"Jamie, this is Ingrid, we're at University together. This is her older sister, Christina, and her fella, Mark," he said, pointing us out in turn.

Jamie shook hands with Mark, and kissed us girls on the cheek. It was nice to meet a guy who was only 5’8", because with my heels, I was taller than him.

"Wow. You're looking lovely ladies. Very Scandinavian," he said, with a cheeky grin.

"That's because we are, sort of half, as our mother is from Sweden," I said. "It's really nice of you to allow us to slip in like this."

"It’s an absolute pleasure. I'm pleased that you could come. Usually these sorts of things have all the same people at them, so it's greatly refreshing to have some new blood. Go and grab a drink, and food will be in about twenty minutes," he said, and went off to greet some newcomers.
 
 
We moved on through to the dining room where Alex met up with many people he knew. I was introduced to so many people that I forgot them all instantly. We stood around, feeling very self-conscious and rather odd. The lads found us a glass of wine each, and we stood making small talk to complete strangers. The thing that struck me as strange was that despite being about a hundred and sixty miles inside Scotland, they all, or most of them, spoke with no discernable accent at all.

"Ruperts!" muttered Mark, making me laugh.

"You're in their world now, boy. Behave!" I whispered.

"You two are the most stunning girls here by far," he said.

"You look very Scottish, so try to disguise your southern accent."

"Fat chance," he said.
 
 
We gradually moved to the large table, from which we helped ourselves to the superb food. We then found a space and sat and ate it. I was having difficulties with my broken arm, so Mark carried my food for me. We ended up sitting on a sofa in a small sitting room. Mark, a typical copper, ate everything on his plate in two seconds, and disappeared to look for seconds. I was in no hurry, and did not want to spill anything on my new dress.

I became aware of a shadow across me, so looked up. It was another tall young man wearing the full mess dress of an army officer, but it wasn't a kilt.

Such was my past that I knew a little about such things, so recognised that he was a Lieutenant in the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. Two medal ribbons adorned his broad chest.

"Hello," he said, with a broad smile. He was older than most of the others, which made him nearer my age. He was very lean and tanned, so I guessed that he had been abroad and probably in a field of conflict. He had sandy hair, which was as short as I had used to keep mine in my other life. He oozed confidence and quiet professionalism.

"Hi."

"I’ve been watching you; what happened to your arm?"

I was surprised, as the sleeve covered it, so I thought I had done a good job hiding it.

"I got hit by a van that jumped a red light."

"Nasty. But you seem to be coping very well."

"Thanks. It's a right royal pain in the arse, but it's better than being dead." I said, and he smiled again. He had a very nice smile, and I got a tingly feeling again. Bloody hell, girl, make your mind up.

"I’m Alistair McLeish. I’m a friend of the family."

I laughed.

"I’m Christina Reynolds, my younger sister is dating Alex Robertson. They're at Cambridge together."

"So what do you do, are you at university too?"

"No, I work for an advertising company in London. I left Cambridge a couple of years ago."

He nodded and smiled again.

"I sensed you were a little more mature than most of this lot."

He took my hand, but instead of shaking it, he kissed the back of it. His lips hardly touched it, but I blushed, experiencing that warm tingly feeling again. He really was very dishy.

"Are you with the man who was sitting here?" he asked.

"I suppose so." I said, and grinned. "Yes, his name is Mark, and I arrived with him."

He smiled, bowing his head.

"Then I shall not intrude, just permit me to say that you are, by far, the most wonderful creature I have seen in a very long time."

I was speechless, but he smiled as he watched Mark making his way back to us.

"If I may have but one dance with you this evening?" Alistair asked.

"Of course, any in particular?"

"The Reel of the Fifty First Division, it’s my favourite," he said, so I nodded my agreement.

Mark arrived with another huge plate full. He frowned slightly, so I sensed he felt possessive.

"Mark, this is Alistair McLeish. Alistair, this is Mark Williams," I said, and watched them as the eyed each other up. Mark was faintly wary, but Alistair was charm personified.

"I did not mean to intrude, but I saw her sitting all alone, and thought she could do with some company. Now you have returned, I shall retire from the lists," he said, bowing slightly to me and shaking Mark’s hand.

"Toffee nosed git!" Mark said after he'd left. Poor Mark was feeling like a fish out of water. I had to confess, that although it was very alien and slightly pompous, I actually felt perfectly at ease. It was the exhibitionist in me, I suppose. My one regret was my arm, and I was mildly annoyed that the handsome soldier had immediately seen it.

"Mark, you’re jealous," I said.

He grinned.

"Who wouldn’t be? You're the best looking woman here, and you're mine," he said.

"What did I say about being anyone’s possessions?" I said.

He looked at me and had the grace to blush.

"I know, I didn’t mean that literally, but. .. Shit, I’m sorry, but I do love you and I don’t like seeing you with other guys."

"Mark. You know I'm fond of you, but if you get too possessive, then this isn’t going to work. Is it?"

"I guess not."

"Because all it says to me, is that you don’t trust me, and if that is the case, we may as well end things before we start," I said, feeling rather a heel.

"It's not that I don’t trust you. I do. But I don’t trust General Gordon there," he said, nodding in the direction that the tall army officer had gone.

"If you trust me, then you will know that I'll be loyal. Even so, it's very early days, and as I told you, I don’t know if I want to be tied down yet. Although you say you love me, I don’t actually think you've had enough time to get to know me. But without that trust, then where are we?" I asked.

"I’m sorry. I'm so terrified of losing you. I’ve only just found you, and I'm still in shock that you're with me at all," he said, looking very sheepish.

I smiled and kissed his cheek.

"To keep me, you have to learn to give me space," I said, and he grinned.

"Okay, just hit me if I get too possessive," he said, so I punched him on the arm.

"Ow. Okay, point taken," he said, and proceeded to finish everything on his plate.

"Do you want some dessert?" he asked.

"Okay," I said, and we went back to the dining room. While we were gone, someone else took our spot, so I was left holding my plate and no way could I use my broken arm to feed myself.

Mark managed to find us some room on the stairs, where we sat with a group of people that I had never met, and found it quite fun. Mark was quiet, but somehow I had relaxed, and was able to join in the conversation with no difficulty.

We finished our food, and they announced the first dance. It was a Dashing White Sergeant, and required threesomes. No sooner than we had entered the ballroom, looking rather lost, than Alistair materialised at my side, and offered himself as our third person. Mark saw my expression, grinned, and welcomed him with a curt nod.

I was on cloud nine.

I had two gorgeous blokes, almost fighting each other for me, and they were so polite about it. We met Alex and Ingrid with another girl about halfway round. Alex and Alistair obviously knew each other, and they exchanged pleasantries.
 
 
When we moved on, Alistair turned to me.

"I can see why Alex is attracted to your sister. She is almost as beautiful as you," he said, and I went pink, again.

At the end of the dance, Alistair thanked us both and left us alone. Mark was confused. On the one hand, he was as jealous as hell, and yet he knew he mustn’t express it or show it.

Our relationship was too new for this environment really, but it was a good testing experience for both of us.

"I tell you what. I won’t flirt, if you don’t become too jealous," I said to him and he grinned.

"The problem with that is simple. You and Ingrid don’t need to flirt, you just have to walk into a room, and, bang. You're immediately the focus of all male attention," he said.

"Poor Mark, any regrets?"

"Yes."

"Oh?"

"I regret the fact that I'll be leaving you up here when I head south next week."

I smiled, and gave him a kiss.

"Relax, trust me," I said.

"Christina, I do, but I can’t help what I feel."
 
 
We went and had a dance together, and although we were novices, the others helped us through.

I sat out the next dance, so Ingrid took Mark for a dance, while Alex danced with Mary, Jamie’s sister.

Alistair appeared as if by magic, and sat next to me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, nodding at my arm.

"Yup. I have the most spectacular bruises all over my body, so I need to rest now and again."

"How long are you up here for?"

"Two weeks, or at least Ingrid and I are. Mark has to go back next week, he is in court."

"Court? Is he a lawyer?"

"No, he's a police officer."

"Ah. That would account for it."

"For what?"

"He has an almost military bearing, so i guessed that he is used to wearing a uniform and doing a tough job."

"I suppose so."

"How did you meet?"

I told him my tale of the accident, after which he nodded.

"I don’t blame him, I would have done the same," he said, so I smiled.

"He's very jealous of you, you know?" I said.

"So he should be. For I fully intend to make you my wife," he said with a laugh.

I laughed, and looked at him. He stopped laughing.

"Actually, I know that's not really funny. It's rare for me to say silly things like this, but you have literally taken my breath away," he said.

I looked down, unable to find the right words. I found him attractive, and yet I found Mark and Steve attractive for different reasons. Yet there was something else. I could not put my finger on what attracted me to him, but then I had only met three unattached men, and had found them all attractive.

"You don’t know me, so don’t be so silly," I said, trying to make light of it.

He looked at me with such tenderness that my heart almost skipped a beat. Then he smiled, and changed the subject.

"Are you going to the Perth Ball?"

"Yes, and the Angus Ball, although Mark won’t be here for that one."

He grinned, so I punched him on the shoulder, gently.

"Stop it. I’ll have you know that I am loyal, and besides Mark and I have only just met, so it's still early days," I said.

"In that case, I live in hope," he said.

The dance ended, so he smiled and left me alone. Mark returned, looking flushed and out of breath.

"How was that?" I asked.

"Cool. Your sister has so much energy."

"I know, she's very fit."

"I saw General Gordon, what did he want?"

"To marry me," I said, perfectly honestly.

"Sorry Chris, that was out of order. I need a drink, do you want one?"
 
 
We went to get a drink together, and stood on the terrace as he cooled off. It was a lovely night, and it was a perfect setting. It was so amazing to wear fine clothes and to mix with such exotic people in such a romantic setting, with the Scottish dance music in the background.

I stared at the stars, and wondered which man was the ‘one’ for me.

"Penny for them?" Mark said.

"I was wondering where my future lay, and with whom," I replied.

He was quiet.

"Sorry, but you did ask," I said.

"I know. I live in hope," he said, and I caught my breath, for those were the exact words that Alistair had said a few moments before.

He put his glass down, and wrapped his arms around me, standing behind me. I was content to stand there, safe and happy.

"I know that someone like you will never belong to any one man, so thank you for sharing your life with me for a short time," he said.

It was so romantic and humble, that I almost cried.

"Don’t be silly. When I find the right man, I fully intend to be a one man woman, but I need to find myself first."

He kissed the nape of my neck, and shivers went up my spine.

"Just remember, I love you, Chris."

"I will," I said, and just let him hold me for a while. His sporran started to move, and I sniggered.

"That's a very dirty laugh, Chris."

"Well, stop your sporran from assaulting my bum then," I said, and he sniggered too.

"Who has the dirty laugh now?" I asked.

We decided to go back in, and no sooner we did that Alistair appeared and claimed my hand for the dance I had promised him.
 
 
He was a polished and experienced dancer, so I was only to aware that I was a complete novice. We were far down the set, so he explained the moves as we watched the other couples go through the dance. I managed to get through it with no terrible gaffs, finding the whole experience exhilarating and great fun. I liked dancing with him, as I found his dress uniform was very smart. Being a Cavalry Officer, he did not wear a kilt, but breeches, with lots of stripes and buttons all over the place. He was wearing boots, but had taken his spurs off, so as not to rip girls’ dresses.

Mark stood and smouldered on the sidelines. He was not a good dancer, poor love, he was as new to it as I, but lacked the grace to wing it as Ingrid and I managed.

"Your policeman doesn’t like me very much," Alistair said.

"When I told him you wanted to marry me, he was a little upset," I said.

"You never told him?"

"Yes, but he didn’t believe me," I said, so he laughed.

When the dance came to an end, Alistair bowed low over my hand, which he took to his lips once more, and kissed.

"You have made my evening, fair Christina, for that I thank you."

"Oh, do us a favour," I said, but my heart went flutter-flutter.

He smiled, and led me back to Mark.

"I return your maiden. Please look after her," he said, and left us alone.

"He's a pompous ass," Mark said.

"Mark. Behave!" I said, still glowing with pleasure at his words.

"Sorry, but he is."

"Jealousy does not become you," I said, and he had the grace to grin.

I felt like Elisa Doolittle - I could have danced all night. However, it came to an end, so we eventually had to say our farewells. I had met so many people, yet with several I had become quite friendly, so saying goodbye took some time. Alex knew nearly everyone, and as Ingrid was stuck on his arm, I never thought we would get away.
 
 
Finally, we were in the car park and walking to the Volvo. Mark and Alex were ahead, and I was behind with Ingrid. A Porsche pulled up next to us, and the window was lowered. It was Alistair.

"Goodnight fair Christina, and I meant every word," he said, and sped off.

"Who was that? He’s gorgeous," my sister asked.

"He's called Alistair, and he proposed to me earlier."

"No? Oh Chris, you're just too bad!" she said, and convulsed into giggles.

"It’s awful, as he and Mark almost squared up to each other. Mark got so jealous, and Alistair teased him something rotten," I said, and Ingrid giggled even more.

We got to the car and Alex wanted to know what was so funny, so I told him, and we all ended up laughing. However, I could sense Mark was far from happy.
 
 
The rest of the week sped by, with several parties and the Perth Ball. It was all fabulous, so even Mark relaxed, and was reasonably friendly to Alistair when we met him at the Ball. Fortunately we did not see him at any other party, so Mark and I enjoyed being with each other.

By the end of the week, I was tired, but my injuries were less painful that at the start. Mark took a lingering and rather emotional farewell, promising undying love and all that. As I watched the VW disappear, I knew that, however nice he was, he wasn’t the ‘one’. I sensed he knew it too, but we both were a little sad.

The weekend was quiet, but although the school was back now, we just took things easy. We attended chapel on the Sunday morning, sitting in the gallery above the main chapel. It was all very fine, but too much ceremony for my liking. Ingrid and I dressed in quite short skirts and high heels, so were rewarded by causing not a few adolescent heads to turn.

There were two parties planned for this week, on Friday and Saturday. One was the Angus Ball.

On Sunday afternoon, Alex and Ingrid wanted some time alone, so I was sitting in the Robertson’s kitchen, chatting to Sheila, when the telephone rang. Sheila answered, and looked at me in a strange way.

"It's for you," she said. I frowned, for no one knew I was here, apart from my parents.

"Hi?" I said.

"Hello Christina." It was Alistair.

"Alistair. How nice to hear from you."

"Has your policeman gone yet?"

"Yes, as it happens, but he's not my policeman, he's just a friend."

"Good. Then will you come out to dinner with me, I thought we could go to the theatre?"

I was stunned, my heart was racing in any case, so this made it worse.

"I’d love to," I heard the tart inside me reply.

"Good. How about tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at seven?"

"Hang on," I said, and covered the mouthpiece with my hand.

I explained what was on offer, and Sheila thought it funny.

"There's nothing planned, go for it girl. How I wish I was your age again," she said.

"Fine, I’ll see you at seven," I said.

There was a moment’s silence on the other end.

"Great. Dress smart. I’ll see you tomorrow," he said, and then we said goodbye. I switched off the phone.

"I know Alistair, he's a very nice young man. He was here, as a pupil, a few years ago now," Sheila told me.

"Oh Sheila, I feel so guilty."

"Why? No one man owns you; you do what you want and see whom you want. Why should you lock yourself away, just because one young man declares his undying love for you? Once you reciprocate that love, and you make a commitment, that's different, but as for now, why hold back? It's not as if you're sleeping with anyone, is it?"

"No. That I reserve for my husband to be," I said.

"That in itself is very rare, and something wonderful, in this day and age," she said, and I smiled.

"I still feel guilty," I said, to which she laughed.

"There's no need, these men all demand such things from you, but actually offer no guarantee that they'll be as loyal in return."

"I suppose so. But poor Mark, he so wanted to stay."

"It's obvious how he feels about you, but how do you feel about him?"

"He's attractive, fun to be with, I like him, and he makes me feel good, but I don’t think he is the ‘one’ for me. But, if I don’t try, how will I ever know?"

"Quite. He is a nice boy, but not in your league," Sheila said.

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Christina, your humility is so tangible, it’s wonderful. You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever met, and you’ve a gentle and kind personality to match. You’d be completely wasted as a policeman’s wife, although you’d be very happy and make a wonderful wife and loving mother. I feel you’re destined for far greater things."

"So an army wife is out of the question too?" I said with a smile.

"What do you know about Alistair?"

"Not a lot, we didn’t get talking much, Mark was always in the background."

"Well, he's not cut out to be a regular soldier, his father is the Earl of Dundas, and as the heir, Alistair has obtained a commission before taking over the reins of his father’s empire. Edgar McLeish, his father, is the head of a large conglomerate of international companies, as well as having vast estates that spread across three counties. He is one very rich and powerful man, and Alistair is set to follow his footsteps."

"Oh."

Sheila smiled.

"It's not that bad. As it happens, he's a nice young man and isn't as arrogant as his father was. Edgar is still a rude and unpleasant man, but because he's rich, he gets away with it. Alistair takes after his mother Julia, who was a lovely woman."

"Was? I take it she died?"

"Yes, several years ago now, she had breast cancer. Edgar took it badly, and is not well himself these days. The booze mostly."

"Oh," I said, again. Life was getting complicated.

I was ready at six-forty and he arrived at six-forty-seven. I was wearing a black dress with straps, stockings and smart high heel shoes. I had a white jacket, in which I could hide my plaster cast. I was more nervous on going on this date than anything else I could remember. Ingrid and Alex were off to the movies, and had already left.

I heard the sound of his car on the gravel, and saw him as he parked the car. It was a black convertible with the top down. Several of the boys were already admiring the car, as he made his way to the door. He was dressed in a smart jacket and trousers, with a pale blue shirt and regimental tie.

I opened the door before he rang the bell, and he grinned at me.

"My word. You're so beautiful," he said.

"You don’t exactly look like a tramp, yourself," I said, and he laughed.

"Hello Alistair," said Sheila.

"Hello Mrs Robertson. Sorry to love you and leave you," he said, she smiled and waved.

"Have a lovely time, my dear," she said to me.

I walked to the car with him. There was a large group of boys around it full of technical questions. He answered them as he opened the door for me. I showed a lot of leg as I squeezed into the passenger seat, with my handbag on my lap. The crowd went very quiet, making both Alistair and I laugh.

I took a scarf from my bag and tied it round my hair. I did not want to get totally windswept before the meal. I slipped on my sunglasses, as did he.

We drove to Perth, but the wind made conversation difficult. I became aware of the glances we received from other drivers and passersby. I felt good sitting here, with Alistair looking very suave and cool with his Rayban sunglasses.
 
 
After he parked the car, we walked to the restaurant. It was in one of the old buildings, furnished entirely with antique furniture. The owner was an ex-army officer, and the place felt really friendly. Alistair obviously knew the owner, so he introduced me to him.

"Christina, my darling, this is Norman, he and his lovely wife Carol have run this place for many years. When I left school, I worked behind the bar until I went off to Sandhurst."

Norman kissed me on the cheek, while I was still reeling from being referred to as, ‘my darling’.

We sat at a pleasant little table in an alcove, with Alistair sitting next to me on a small padded bench. We were very close together, ‘cosy’ would be the expression.

I selected garlic prawns to start, followed by fillet of Scotch beef. He smiled.

"I was going to go for the game pate, but if you are having garlic, I suppose I had better too. Otherwise, I won’t want to kiss you," he said.

"Oh, and who says you'd be allowed to?" I asked, teasing.

He took my good hand.

"Don’t mistake my poor attempts at humour for anything other than a smoke screen. I still meant every word I said to you. For I truly believe that you're really an angel come down to dwell amongst us, and as soon as you walked in that ballroom the other night, I lost my heart, totally and utterly."

"And how the hell is a girl supposed to respond to that?" I asked.

He laughed.

"You say, ‘I too fell completely under your charms, so when shall we get married after which I can have lots of your babies?’ or something like that," he said.

I laughed, but he still held my hand. However, I had no compulsion to remove it.

"You're a nice guy, I think. But I don’t know you, any more than I know Mark."

"Argh! You said his name. I had hoped you would have forgotten all about him."

I laughed again, and the waitress came and took our order. I told her what I wanted, and he simply said, "I’ll have the same."

I was still laughing, as he was just so silly.

"Tell me about yourself," he said.

"I’m twenty-four, as I told you I work in advertising as a graphic designer, and have been since leaving university. I'm a virgin, and intend to remain that way until I meet the man I marry. My father is a mad scientist, and I still don’t know what he does. You’ve met my sister and, thanks to my mother, I'm half Swedish."

"You have the most beautiful eyes," he said.

I was lost for words, but my heart was racing.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, quietly. He kissed my hand.

"What?"

"Complicating my life," I said.

"Am I?"

"I don’t know. Yes, yes, you are."

"How?"

"By coming into my life now."

"Would you like me to go?"

"No. You know I don’t."

"Do I?"

"Alistair, don’t play games."

"I promise you, I'm not playing games. I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you. I told myself that I was a fool, as such things couldn’t happen. But the longer I watched you, the deeper I fell, until I just had to speak to you. If it was a game, it would be easier for both of us."

I was quiet, for again I sensed something different about him.

He looked at me, as I studied the table mat. My mind went back to whom I used to be. I remembered all my previous life during which I had for so long yearned, with all my soul, an experience such as this. Yet that previous life seemed so unreal to me now. It was as if it was the dream and this was reality.

This was reality, so could that have been a dream?

Why didn't I remember?

I so wanted this to be real, but part of me thought that this might be a dream and I would wake up as a male once more.
 
 
He smiled, reaching over with his hand to brush some hair from my face.

"You're crying," he said, surprised.

I nodded.

"Why?"

I shrugged.

He still had my hand, so he loosened his grip, but I held on tight.

"Why do you cry?"

I shook my head.

"You wouldn’t understand," I said.

"Try me."

"I have never been so happy in my life, nor have I ever been so confused," I said.

He laughed.

"Oh, to understand the female mind!" he said.

I smiled.

"You see, in the last couple of weeks, three men have told me they love me, and I feel something for each of them. It makes me feel very humble, because I never wanted such power over anyone."

"Am I one of these three?"

I nodded.

"So, you feel something for me, is it revulsion?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

"No, and you know it."

"Oh, Christina, tell me, what do you feel for me?"

I looked at him, his face so open, and so earnest. I let go of his hand and stroked his cheek. He caught my hand and took it to his lips.

"Tell me, please. I have to know."

"I don’t honestly think I can. It's not that I don’t want to, but I'm more than a little confused. You see, it was only a few days ago that I was knocked down and died on the road. The paramedics jumped started me, and they were able to save my life. Since then, my memory of my life to that point is poor, but I seem to have changed. I want to find myself first, as I don’t really know who I am, and so when I meet someone who makes me go weak at the knees, and in whose company I so like being, I get confused."

I paused, realising that I was babbling.

"I’m sorry, I'm probably making no sense at all," I said.

"How are your knees now?"

"Weak," I said, and he smiled.

"Why?"

"Because you do something to me," I admitted.

"Did Mark?"

"You mentioned him this time," I said, making him grin.

"Yup, I suppose I did."

"Yes, he did, but not in the same way," I said

He nodded.

"What do you know about me?"

"Up to accepting your date - nothing, but Sheila told me a little about you. It's all a bit daunting."

"Yet, you still came?"

"No, I'm a mirage," I said, and he laughed again.

"Have you any idea what it's like living under my father’s shadow?"

I shook my head.

"I've hated him for so long, it's horrible. But I don’t hate him any longer. He's just a greedy man, who has had his time. I actually forgive him everything, as I see that really he was the product of his generation. The title meant so much to him, and then the money took over. He became so acquisitive that it took over his whole life. My mother was the most wonderful and gentle woman. He never deserved her, but watching her die killed him a little."

He paused and the waitress brought us our starters.

I still held his hand.

"You remind me of her, you know?" he said.

"Really? Why?"

"Because you have the same gentleness of spirit, and infinite capacity to love."

I smiled a little sadly.

"Anyway, Dad is ill now, but he's still a sad and miserable old sod. I'm not afraid of him anymore. He has shown me how not to be. And for that I am eternally grateful."

"I feel so sad for you," I said.

"Why?"

"Because you missed out on a father’s love. Everyone should have that, as well as a mother’s love."

He smiled.

"My mother made up for him."

I shook my head.

"No she didn’t. She tried, maybe, but that's something one can never do completely. My children will have all the love from both parents, for I would not have a child with a man who did not have the capacity to love them."

He stared at me, and I was surprised to see tears form in his eyes.

"Your turn," I said, and he looked down.

"That was beautiful," he said, letting go of my hand so I could eat.
 
 
We ate in silence, but something special had happened between us. I felt a pang of guilt, as I recalled Mark’s sad face as he left me.

I sopped up the garlic sauce with my hunk of brown bread. I was getting good at eating with one hand now.

As soon as I finished, he took my hand again, or did I take his?

He looked into my eyes, which made me smile.

"What?" he asked, on seeing my smile.

"You," I said.

"What about me?"

"You look so serious."

"Falling in love is serious," he said.

"Well stop looking so miserable about it," I said, so he smiled obediently.

"Actually, I don’t think I've ever been as happy. I'm with the most beautiful woman in the world, who's just told me that she feels something for me. What more could I want, except perhaps for her to tell me that she loves me?"

The waitress came and removed our plates, so he poured me a glass of wine.

I sipped it and tried to assemble some rational thoughts.

"How long are you in the army for?"

"Another year, and then it's decision time."

"What, whether to stay in or get out?"

"Something like that. Dad wants me to get out, so I can take over his business interests. But to be honest, I have neither the inclination nor the ability to do so. No, I probably will leave, but I want to make my life count."

My heart quickened, for here was someone who had a similar yearning.

"What do you mean?"

"We get one crack at life, right? So, why do most of us scrub about storing nuts like squirrels, just to die and leave piles of nuts all over the place for others to get fat on?"

I laughed.

"And why do we spend so long using our talents for others to get fat on?" I said.

He looked at me.

"You feel the same way," he said, it wasn’t a question.

I nodded, and he gave me the hugest smile.

"You are the first person who knows what I am talking about. Oh, forget the wealth, that’s an incidental, if I could give it all away, I would, but if I could use it for some worthwhile purpose, that would be truly wonderful."

"Alistair, you said we get one crack at life. Well, I have been given a second chance, and I so want my chance to count."

He took my hand to his lips, as this time we both had tears in our eyes.

The waitress, with wonderful sense of crap timing, brought our beef.

We both laughed, and I stared at the steak, wondering how I would cut the thing up.

Without a word, Alistair cut the steak on his plate into eatable sizes and swapped plates.

I looked at him and smiled.

He shrugged, as no words were necessary.
 
 
We ate our food, but all the time I was very conscious of him next to me, neither of us needed to sit as close as we did, yet we were squeezed up close, with him on my right.

We finished the main course and sat back, so I rested my head on his shoulder.

"That was really lovely, but I’m stuffed," I said. I couldn’t eat as much as my male version.

"Pudding?"

I shook my head.

"You have one if you want, I’ve had enough," I told him.

He looked at his watch.

"The play starts in a few minutes, so we don’t have time in any case."

He paid the bill and we walked the short distance to the theatre. We didn’t hurry and I held his arm, catching our reflection in the windows of the shops we passed, and we looked right together.
 
 
We took our places in the theatre and, seconds later, the lights dimmed and the curtain rose. It was supposed to be a comedy, but I was so conscious of Alistair that I couldn’t concentrate. I laughed when everyone else did, but spent most of the time trying to work out why he had the effect upon me that he obviously had.

I sat to his left, and our arms were entwined holding hands for the entire first half.

When the interval came, we sat there, just enjoying being together. No words were exchanged, while I tried to compare how I felt about him with Mark and Steve.

He whispered to me that he had to go to the loo, so we both went. I joined the queue for the ladies, while he went into the gents. Here was one area of life that was still grossly unfair.

When I finally got to the cubicle, I sat there and tried to analyse how I felt. I kept getting pictures of myself dressed as a bride, and of him standing at the altar wearing his uniform, and sword. Shit. Had I fallen in love with the silly sod?

I was cross with him and myself. This was not in the plan. Like, yes, fun to be with, have a laugh, yes. But love? This was getting too heavy by half.

When I rejoined him, he sensed something was the matter.

"What’s up?"

"Nothing," I said, and then realised how female that sounded. I laughed, and so did he.

He just looked at me.

"Okay, I’m cross, alright?"

"Why, what have I done?"

"You fell in love with me."

"So?"

"I’m not cross with you. I’m cross with me!"

"I don’t understand?"

"Look, it’s actually quite simple. If you’re in love with me, I can cope with that. But I think that I have gone and fallen in love with you, and you have no idea how complicated this makes my life."

He stared at me for a second, and was just about to say something when the lights went down again.

I stared to the front, but felt him take my hand again.

I enjoyed the second half more than the first, but didn’t really understand what was going on. Nevertheless, it was fun, and at the end I clapped with everyone else.

We let everyone leave, as they all seemed in such a hurry.

He placed his arm across my shoulder.

"So, what happens now?" he asked.

I shrugged.

"You go back south next Monday. I go off to Iraq two days later. What do we do now?" he asked.

I stared at my thumb, just because it was there.

"Alistair, I don’t want to lose you," I heard myself say.

"Why should you?"

I shrugged again.

"Come on, we’d better leave," he said, and I looked about me. We were the only people left in the theatre, apart from the staff who wanted us to bugger off.
 
 
We walked slowly back to the car, as he placed one arm around my shoulders.

"I feel so guilty," I said.

"Mark?"

I nodded.

"You weren’t to know."

"I knew. The first moment I saw you, I knew. I just denied it to myself."

"Really?"

I nodded.

His grin could possibly be seen on Mars.
 
 
The September evening had become quite chilly, so he kept the car’s roof up on the way back. I rested my hand on his shoulder as he drove. I seriously considered offering him my body for sex, but told myself to be sensible, as this was more serious than sex.

"So you’ve never made love to a man?" he asked, and I smiled.

"No, not that I remember. I think I would recall something like that!"

He chuckled.

"Are you prone to memory lapses?"

"Not that I can remember."

He laughed again.

"Why not?"

"Why can’t I remember, or why haven’t I had sex?"

"The sex bit."

"Because I’ve yet to meet my husband."

"Still?"

"I don’t know any more."

He smiled, glancing at me.

"Thanks," he said.

"What for?"

"You know."

I smiled.

"This relationship is going to be fun," I said.

"Relationship?"

"If you want?"

"I want."

"I need time and space. Alistair, I need to deal with other people in my life without hurting them."

"I understand. So, where do we go from here?"

I thought for a moment.

"Let’s take each day as it comes. We go our separate ways next week, as that will give us each some space. Who knows, maybe we will have had enough of each other by then."

"No, I don’t think so, somehow."

"Neither do I, but I really need the time and space. I think."

He drove into the school grounds, parking outside the house.

We sat there in silence for a while.

He leaned over and kissed me. I had all the symptoms I had experienced before, but magnified a hundred fold. These went deeper, not just to the brain and to the reproductive organs, but to my soul. I returned his kiss with a passion that even surprised me.

To my disappointment, he broke it off.

"Christina, if I stay with you any longer, I’ll not be able to leave you alone. I want you so much, it hurts!"

"I want you too," I said, quite honestly.

"Then, I’ll say good night. I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning."

I frowned.

"Why?"

"I want to show you my home."

I was surprised.

"Do you often take girls home?"

"Only my intended wife."

"How many of them have you had?"

"One — you."

"I haven’t said yes."

"I know that, that is why I called you my intended wife."

I smiled.

"Thanks for a lovely meal. The theatre was fun too."

"I don’t remember a damn thing about the play."

"Neither do I," I admitted, and we both started to laugh.

"I love you Chris."

"I know."
 
 
He got out of the car and opened the door for me. I got out and flung my arms round his neck, kissing him again.

"I will see you at nine then," I said, as I came up for air.

He nodded, and watched me go into the house.

Ingrid was full of curiosity over my date, but I was reticent and quiet about it.

"Oh my God, you’ve fallen in love," she said. I looked at her.

"Bloody hell, you have, haven’t you?"

I smiled and gave a little shrug.

"Maybe."

"Come on, tell me all about it," she said, and I told her about the evening, and how I felt.

"God, it is so romantic, the dashing dragoon and the fairy princess."

"Shut up Ing."

"What are you going to do about Mark?"

"Oh I don’t know. This is such a mess."

"He’s so dishy. I’m not saying that Mark wasn’t, he’s gorgeous, but the soldier is something else. He’s in a totally different class."

"You’re not helping."

"Sorry sis. So, what happens now?"

"He’s taking me to see his home tomorrow."

"Oh-oh. Got to show you off to Mummy then?"

"His mother died several years ago, breast cancer. No, his father is still alive, but there is little love lost between them. He just wants to show me his home."

"My God! This is serious! He hasn’t proposed yet, has he?"

I nodded.

"You haven’t?"

I shook my head.

"Not yet."

"Oh God. You’re thinking about it? Chris, you only just met him."

"No, I’m not, I want to wait and see what happens."

She wasn’t convinced, but then neither was I.
 
 
Chapter 5
 
 
I was up and ready by eight o’clock, with an irrepressible urge to smile all the time. Ingrid grumbled at me, while Sheila smiled and shook her head. I didn’t care, I was going to see Alistair again, and life was wonderful.

He arrived at a quarter to nine, so I was already out the front door before he had switched his engine off.

I was wearing a fawn skirt and knee length suede boots, with three inch heels. I had a cream blouse and a khaki body warmer. I thought that I looked like a cast member from the ‘Monarch of the Glen’.

Alistair opened the car door, so I kissed him.

“Morning,” I said.

“Hello, you.” he said, kissing me again. We stood and kissed for ages.

“Mmm, you taste divine,” I said.

“Shit, Christina, I want you more than ever.”

I smiled and got in the car, letting my skirt slide up so he could see my legs.

He laughed and shut my door.

As he got in, he pulled my skirt down.

“You’re a tease, Madam.”

“Sir, you deserve it.”

He laughed and started the car.
 
 
It was a pleasant drive, up towards Pitlochry on the A9. The sun was out, so Alistair put the top down on the car, and I just enjoyed the fresh air. He drove well, and not as fast as he could have done. I got the impression that he was secure and had little to prove to anyone.

He kept giving me little sideways glances and smiling.

“What?” I asked.

“I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“Oh, I’m real,” I said, and he shook his head.

I looked at him, watching him as he drove. He was very handsome, giving off a real feeling of strength and power. He wasn’t a loud person, but as with quiet people, his strength was unassuming and controlled. I thought he would make an excellent soldier.

“Do you like the army?” I asked.

“I love it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, probably because it gets me away from the old man, and allows me the freedom to follow my own destiny, within the parameters of the military, that is.”

“Are you a good soldier?”

He smiled. “I like to think so. You’d best ask some of my troopers.”

“What do you think of women in the army?”

He looked at me, and I smiled.

“I’m not a militant feminist. I enjoy being a woman, and revel in the differences between us,” I said, and he smiled.

“I’ve come across some brilliant women, for whom the army is the perfect place. But I cannot seem to get rid of the old fashioned notion that they should not be in harms way.”

“Are they a liability?”

“Some, but not all. But then, some men are bloody liabilities.”

“I don’t think women should be soldiers,” I said.

“Why not?”

“We should be helping make lives and not taking them. It doesn’t seem right for a potential mother to have to kill.”

“You would not be politically correct amongst certain quarters,” he told me.

“I don’t care. I have no say in it, that’s just my rather naíve opinion.”

“Hardly naíve.”

“You’re sweet, but I’m not exactly an expert.”

“So you don’t fancy being a soldier under me?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, if you put it like that, it sounds rather nice,” I said, and he burst out laughing.

“I’d have you under me, any day,” he said, and I touched his arm.

“I rather think I’d like it on top,” I said, and he looked at me sharply.

“Are you sure that you won’t marry me?”

“No, I’m not sure. But at the moment I reserve the right to think about it. Besides, if your home is like a horror movie, I won’t have committed myself.”

He smiled, and swung off the road, through some huge gates.

“Bloody hell, Alistair, how big is this place of yours?”

“Big enough.”

“Come on, compared to Jamie’s place, say?”

“Jamie’s place is about a fifth of Dundas House.”

“Shit!” I said, as it came into view.

It was huge. It wasn’t a house, it was a castle. Similar to Blair Atholl, but not white. In the setting with the forest and hills behind, it looked very imposing. I felt very insecure, as a little English girl out of her league.

He stopped the car outside the front, while I stared at the vista in a daze.

“Do you mean to tell me, that if I marry you, I have to clean this bloody place?” I asked, and he chuckled at me.

He got out and opened the door for me, as my left arm was still bloody useless.

I stood next to him, staring up at his ‘home’.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked.

“Has it got central heating?”

“Oh yes, we employ about fifty peasants to run around a treadmill that generates sufficient power for our needs.”

“Stimulated and encouraged by a bloody good whipping every now and again, I hope?” I asked, taking the joke one step further.

He laughed and kissed me.

“That is why I love you; you are like me in so many ways.”

I frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“You don’t give a toss about convention, and just get on with life.”

“So?”

“It’s your finest quality.”

“What about my tits? I thought they were pretty fine,” I asked, looking down at my chest, and he laughed again.

He took my hand, pulling me into his arms.

“Come here, you,” he said, kissing me.

“Is your dad at home?”

“Somewhere. Are you sure you want to meet him?”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

“Not really, this is my home, I wanted you to see it.”

“I’ve heard a lot about the old man, so let’s get it over with,” I said.

He took me into the house, and up the very ornate stairs. We went down about half a mile of corridors, finally entering what could only be a private apartment.

“This is his little den. He has a nurse living in, and he hardly ever leaves this bit of the house any more,” Alistair explained.

“So who lives in the rest of the house?”

“No one. It’s open to the public for much of the year, and in the shooting season we let the west wing to shooting parties who take the moor. It brings in enough to keep the place in good nick.”

“So where do you live?”

“I’ll show you after we see the old man,” he said, opening a door.

The smell hit me first; - the rank ‘old person’ aroma of urine, anti-septic and stale body. A tall, powerful looking nurse looked up from her book. She was sitting at a desk, and frowned until she saw it was Alistair.

“Hello Anna, how is the old bastard?” he asked.

“No so bad, sir. He’s on the terrace, taking a wee bit o’ air,” she replied, then looked at me.

“This is Christina, she’ll be my wife eventually,” he said, and I hit him.

“Okay, she might be my wife eventually,” he amended his statement.

“Hi, I’m Christina, and I have yet to accept his proposal,” I said, to which Anna smiled indulgently. She was not used to meeting Alistair’s women, so I could tell that she was unsure how to talk to me.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Christina,” she said, nervously shaking my hand.

It suddenly dawned on me that there was an enormous social divide here, far more extreme than in rural Buckinghamshire, and I was clearly on the ‘haves’ side. My faultless accent and appearance marked me as the same strata as Alistair, so therefore as a potential employer, and so she was taking no chances. If I did marry Alistair, I would be the Countess of Dundas, and that was way on the other side of the divide.

Before I could think too deeply about this, Alistair led me out onto the terrace, where I saw a figure in a wheelchair in the sun.

Edgar McLeish was nearly seventy-five, but looked ten years older. His portrait had greeted me on entry to the castle. Painted when he had been in his fifties, it portrayed a powerful and arrogant man dressed in tweeds with a grouse moor as backdrop. He looked out at the world with an air of ruthlessness on his handsome face. The reality was a shadow of his former self, as he was now a shrivelled old man. His white hair was sparse, and his face was almost yellow, with the appearance of parchment. Veins stood out on his forehead and neck, and his bulbous red nose was evidence of years of alcohol abuse. He had married late, and to a woman who had been twenty years his junior. They had one child, Alistair, and now Edgar was not a well man.

Alistair told me that after his wife died, he’d hit the bottle, but in a controlled way. He had been single minded concerning his business affairs before she died, but after the death, he became positively predatory. All his efforts went into making money, and not in a pleasant way at times. However, he had to stop sometimes, and it was in those times he drank himself to sleep. He smoked at least forty cigarettes a day, and as I watched, I saw the remains of two cigarettes on the terrace by his wheel chair. He was still smoking.

He now was paying the price. With chronic heart disease, emphysema and terrible circulation, he was unable to walk, for so ulcerated were his legs as to make it virtually impossible. He breathed with a noisy wheeze, and I would not have been surprised if he died in front of me.

“Alistair. What are you doing here?” he said. A harsh voice with no affection, ruined by years of smoking.

“I’ve brought someone to see you, Dad.”

“I don’t want to see anyone,” the man said, but then saw me.

“Who’s this?” he said, rudely, but then went very still, his eyes wideneding, and I noticed his hand started to shake.

“Dad, this is Christina. I hope to persuade her to be my wife.”

His father still stared at me, so I began to feel extremely uncomfortable.

“Pah. Little chance. She looks far too intelligent for that,” he said. “Come here girl, I don’t bite.”

“You may not bite, sir, but I am not a servant you can order about, and I have a name,” I said, getting angry with the old man.

“Ha! Finally, Alistair, you’ve found one with some guts,” he said, surprising me. “Christina, I apologise, I was anxious to see what kind of woman he had chosen.”

“Well, it seems to me that the boot is on the other foot. For as much as he might want me, the decision rests firmly with me. Which means I have to power of choice, and not your son,” I said, still angry at his obnoxious attitude.

He stared at me, with red and watery eyes. He had been a very handsome man, once, and even now he still held onto an air of power and command.

He nodded slowly, looking me up and down, and I felt like a lump of meat in the butchers. I felt my anger rising again, and Alistair saw it too.

“I’m sorry, my child, my son has probably told you that I am not a very pleasant man. For too long I have behaved like a spoilt child, and rarely does anyone stand up to me,” the old man said. His voice softer and almost like a different person.

“If I stared at you, I apologise, but you’re very like my dear late wife, so I can see why my son has fallen in love with you. I’m so very pleased to meet you. And once again, I am sorry for being a rude old bugger,” he said, wheeling himself towards me.

I was quite taken aback, as he held his claw-like hand out, so I shook it. Surprisingly, he had a dry firm handshake, as I had expected something damp and almost reptilian.

“Tell me, have you any Scandinavian blood?” he asked.

“My mother is Swedish,” I said.

He nodded.

“Thought so. Do you speak the language?”

“I do. Yes.”

“My wife’s mother came from Norway. You have the same cool eyes, and strength of character.”

I said nothing, what could I say?

“Gad, you’re a fine looking woman, what do you see in my son?”

“I think that I see a lot of his mother,” I said, and instantly regretted it, for it was heartless of me.

He smiled and nodded.

“You’ll do, girl, you’ll do. It’s so refreshing to meet someone who is as strong as I. I had always hoped he would find such, and I can now relax. Christina, I’m so very pleased to meet you.” He took my hand again, holding it to his lips, and in that gesture I saw his son. I told him so, and he laughed.

“Then my blood runs true,” he said, and wheeled himself inside.

“I’m not well, too much of the wrong things. I have to rest, why the hell I can’t die, I’ll never know?” he said.

The nurse helped him onto his bed, and he pulled his blanket over. His legs were bound in dressings, but I could see the liquid seeping through. In a more confined space, the rank smell was almost overpowering.

“Not pleasant, is it Christina? Well, I pray every day for it to end. But I have to pay for my sins, obviously,” he said, with a humourless chuckle.

He turned to his son.

“Mind you look after this lass, boy. She’s the one,” he said, and Alistair nodded, shyly.

“Goodbye Christina, we probably won’t meet again. I know you don’t care, but for once I can tell my son that I approve of something he has done,” he said, and he lay back and let the nurse put the oxygen mask on his face. He closed his eyes, and it was as if we ceased to exist.

Alistair led me back out, and with some relief he closed the door.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

I shook my head. I was choked up, as I felt it was all so sad.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concerned.

“Fine. No, I’m not fine. Oh, Alistair, it’s so sad, that poor old man, how much he has lost.”

Alistair looked at me, and seemed ready to crumple.

“You’re the only person who has ever felt sad for him,” he said, and I saw tears in his eyes.

I stroked his cheek, wiping a tear away.

“You poor man, how much you have missed out on too.”

We walked slowly back to the main part of the house, and I held his hand.

“I’m sorry, perhaps this was a mistake,” he said.

“No. It wasn’t. I am glad you brought me, as it’s right in some perverse way. I need to meet the father so I could try to understand the son.”

He looked at me, as we stood on the large landing at the top of the stairs.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I know that our futures are somehow connected, and I need to know you as best as I can.”

He held my hand, but looked at me very oddly.

“Christina, please, will you be my bride?”

I looked into his eyes.

“Probably, but I need some time first.”

He smiled. “Who the hell says ‘probably’ when they get proposed to?”

“Me,” I said, and he laughed.

“Then I accept that for the moment. How much time?”

“I don’t know. Really, I don’t. I have to sort things out, you know that.”

“All right, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressurised you.”

“You didn’t, but let’s see what happens.”

He showed me round the enormous house, which was truly splendid, if you like living in a museum. Then he took me to a small cottage by a loch. It was white, with a slate roof. It had a sweet little garden, and out the back there was a walkway to a boat house.

“This is my real home. It used to be the ghillie’s cottage, but he now has a modern house down the road. So I converted this to be my bachelor’s pad. I’m not here very often, and I couldn’t abide living in the big house, so this suits me fine.”

He showed me in, and it was a super little place. Two nice bedrooms, the master with a huge double bed. I smiled and looked at it and then at him, and he had the grace to blush. I wondered how many lassies he had deflowered here. Then there was a fully modern bathroom with separate loo, and a large open plan living room/kitchen area. He had made a small study in the old boiler room, and it was big enough for a desk and a computer.

“It’s lovely,” I said.

“It’s more like a home with you here,” he said, and I punched him again, gently.

We had a lovely day, he took me over the hills in an old Land Rover, showing me some extent of the vast land they owned. Most of it was moor, upon which the grouse were bred specially for the shoots that started on the 12th August every year. When he told me how much money was generated by the business, I gasped. I had no idea of the sheer size of the industry.

“Do you ride?” he asked

“I used to. Being a graphic designer and living in London are not the best things for an equestrian. Besides, my arm has buggered up my chances for the horse of the year show.”

He laughed, informing me of the stables and the pony trekking business that was run by the estate. Then there was the fishing, the stalking, the canoeing and the sailing. I shook my head, this wasn’t a home, it was an adventure playground for the rich.

We stopped by a small loch, way up in the hills. I could just see the house far below us.
He took out a rod and walked to the loch. He showed me how to hold the rod in my good hand, and then to cast the fly upon the water.

“There are some fine brown trout up here, so shall we get us some lunch?”

He was very patient, despite me not being very skilled, but I improved. So much so, that after ten minutes, I caught a fish. The reel started to run out, so I followed his instructions, playing the fish for a while, and slowly reeling it in.

He helped me land it, and it was a fine little fish, about a pound in weight. I felt rather guilty and sad that I had caused it to die. He took the rod from me so, within half an hour, we had a total of four.

He made a little fire using small twigs and dried heather roots there on the little beach, and dug out an old pan from the car. We sat in the sun, watching the fish fry, and then ate the pink flesh in our fingers. I had never tasted such wonderful fish, and it became a magical moment for me.

I had never been much of a country person, but it seemed a very simple and nice way to live. Just catching what you ate, and leaving no mess when you were done.

I watched as Alistair washed the pan in the sand, and then in the loch. He buried the remnants of the fire, so there was no trace of us ever having been there. I heard shooting in the distance.

“Are they shooting today?”

“There’s a party from abroad, they’ve taken the west wing of the house, having bought a couple of weeks’ shooting. The gamekeeper has arranged it all, so we just sit back and collect the money.”

“What kind of people come to shoot little birds?” I asked, and he laughed.

“There are two types. The first are the people who live here, who will go out and walk the moor and shoot enough for the pot, and a perhaps few for the freezer. Then there are the rich city folk and foreigners, like the English,” he said with a smile at me.

“They pay through the nose, and are provided with loaders and beaters. They stand in a butt and have the birds driven onto their guns. They don’t even have to reload their own guns, for goodness sakes. Then they have their lunch brought out to them, where they get pissed, and then try to shoot some more in the afternoon.”

I looked thoughtful, watching as a brace of grouse flew low over the heather to my left.

“I know it’s all part of the way of life up here, but I don’t know if I like the idea. It seems wrong somehow, with all the starving in the world, that rich people pay to kill and maim pretty little birds, just for the fun of it.”

“That’s man. If it’s any consolation, I agree in principal, but if it wasn’t for the breeding, feeding and protection we give them, the grouse would probably be extinct by now.”

“I’ve heard that argument, but it won’t wash. They were around long before the shotgun was invented, and the same predators were around too. In fact, there are less predators today, with the exception of balding over weight wealthy sadists.”

Alistair laughed.

“So, you will be opposed to fox hunting too?”

“No, not necessarily. I don’t agree with causing suffering, but accept that some traditions are for the best of reasons. Foxes are a real problem in some areas, and I think it is right that farmers have a right to control the population to preserve their livestock. I only question the right of people to take pleasure from causing suffering to any animal, no matter how destructive the animal may be.

“Besides, they do look complete pillocks, and one can see why they get up the noses of the general populace,” I added.

“I’ve been hunting,” he said.

“Of course you have. You see before you Christina, the girl with her foot in her mouth.”

He laughed; a deep, warm sound.

“Not at all, at least you have thought about the situation, most people dismiss it out of hand because it is the trendy thing to do.”

“I don’t dismiss it, I just question the motives. I have ridden, and it is fun, so I accept that the actual riding side of it is a wonderful activity. But it’s the chase and death that I feel uncomfortable with. I feel it should be down to an individual’s choice, whether to take part or not. I feel it is pathetic for the government to legislate, as where next, fishing?”

He smiled, and held out his hand to me, pulling me to my feet. We walked back to the Land Rover, hand in hand.

“You really are very like me,” he said.

I looked down at my breasts and then at his broad, flat chest, and he chuckled.

“You know what I mean, you feel for things deeply, but use your intellect to rationalise. I like that.”

“Hey, I’m a blonde, so don’t let anyone overhear what you just said.”

He took both my hands and kissed me. I put my arms behind his head, while he held me close. It felt so right. We kissed, very gently for a few moments, so I got the warm fuzzies again. Then I spoiled it by accidentally clonking him with my cast.

“Ow.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, but he smiled.

“That’s okay. How is the arm?”

“It’s okay. I forget it’s there most of the time. I just get frustrated when I have to do fiddly little jobs. Painting my nails is a nightmare.”

He laughed at me, with his eyes softening.

“What will you do when you get back down south?”

“I don’t know. I should go back to work, but somehow, I don’t feel I want to. I need to sort things out with Mark, which I’m not looking forward to. I shall probably join a gym and get myself fit, as I’ve been a slob for long enough.”

“You’re no way a slob.”

“Maybe, but neither am I fit. I need to get a grip of my life, and start looking to see how I can make a difference.”

He smiled, taking my hand once more.

“While you’re at it, if you get any ideas, let me know,” he said.

We got into the vehicle and trundled back down towards the house again. We passed the group of people with guns as they were having their lunch by a stream. They had even been supplied with picnic tables upon which to eat.

Alistair pulled up, as a large florid man in tweed plus fours came over to the Land Rover.

“Hello Angus, how’s it going?”

Angus was the gamekeeper, and he rolled his eyes.

“There’s a fair few birds aboot, Mr Alistair, but yon Swedes canna hit a barn door at ten paces.”

“Swedes?” I asked.

Angus looked at me, and Alistair chuckled.

“Angus, this is Christina, whom I hope will be the next Countess of Dundas. My love, this is Angus Campbell, he is the main man on the estate, our gamekeeper.”

“Howdoo, Miss. You need yer heed examined to get hitched te a McLeish.”

We all laughed, but he remembered my question.

“Aye, Swedes, yon party are fe Sweden,” he said.

As we spoke a tall, but heavy man, well into middle age, approached us. He was wearing almost a paramilitary uniform, with a great bandolier of cartridges round his shoulder.

“Ah, Alistair. The birds they are fast, yes?” he said, in reasonable but heavily accented English.

“They are certainly that, Lens. But can you hit them?”

“Sometimes, the younger men are having trouble, but we older guys find it easier,” Lens said.

“You would find it easier visiting the butcher, and saving an awful lot of money,” I said, in Swedish.

He looked at me, frowning.

“Hallo, á¤r ni svensk?” he asked.

“My mother is. My father is English,” I replied.

“Your accent is faultless, I’d never have known you as anything other than Swedish.”

“Tack,” I said, smiling.

Alistair laughed as this exchange missed him completely.
 
 
“Lens. This is Christina, whom I hope to marry.”

“Ah, you show good taste, the Nordic beauty can rarely be beaten,” Lens said, in English.

Alistair looked at me.

“I have come to see that,” he said, making my heart go flippity-flop, again.

We said goodbye to Lens and carried on down the dirt track.

“Do you realise that I have just introduced you as my fiancée, twice, yet you never challenged it?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, staring straight ahead, but my mind was in a whirl.

“So, does that mean you will marry me?”

“I don’t know. Alistair, don’t rush me. I’ve only seen you a few times, but never for more than a few hours at a time. I’m just letting the concept settle in my brain first, so then I may be able to make up my mind.”

He nodded, concentrating on driving through a deep ford in the stream. I watched him, while part of me wanted to say ‘yes.’, but the other part of me just said, ‘don’t rush.’.

“You know I love you?” he said, no looking at me.

“So you said, but then so did Mark.”

He nodded. “He’s alright, but you’re far too good for him.”

“That’s what Sheila said. Poor Mark, he’s very sweet,” I said, feeling guilty again.

“You know what your problem is?”

“What?”

“Everyone who meets you falls under your spell.”

“Are you saying I’m a witch?”

“No, more like a fairy princess.”

I laughed. “So, what does that make you?”

“Ah, that’s easy, I’m Prince Charming,” he said with a chuckle.

I smiled, but realised that my story was almost a fairy tale. I just hoped that I would live happily ever after.
 
 
We arrived back at the house, so he gave me a more detailed guided tour. It was like being in a time-warp, as one could imagine people at the turn of the nineteenth to twentieth century living here, with an army of servants. The furnishings and general atmosphere was of a time long gone.

I actually found it slightly oppressive and some of it downright repulsive. The vast array of various dead animal parts was obscene. It was against everything I believed in, too much wealth in the hands of too few, with no inclination to share it with the people who needed succour.

I never considered myself political, yet if I was it was probably conservative with a small ‘c’, but I could understand why many of those early socialists came from families such as these.

“Pretty ghastly, isn’t it?” Alistair said.

“You think so?” I asked, surprised.

“I hate the bloody place, but I wanted to know what you think.”

I told him and he looked at me.

“Really?”

“Sorry,” I said.

“What for, we both think the same way?”

“But this is your home.”

“No. My home is that wee cottage; this is my father’s home.”

“But it will be yours.”

“For a while.”

“You’d sell it?”

“Of course. What did you think I’d do, come and live here?”

“I don’t know, possibly. I think it would make a super place for underprivileged kids to come. You could turn it into a holiday centre for youngsters from all over the world, and start a trust to help pay for those who couldn’t afford it. The rich men like Lens could help pay for, say the homeless orphans from Romania, and the place could be opened up to the laughter of children who have to learn to laugh again.”

Alistair looked at me with a very odd expression. So much so, I felt embarrassed and smiled self-consciously.

“What?” I asked.

“You are beautiful.”

“That’s not the answer I wanted, you’re avoiding the issue.”

“You have vision and compassion, oh yes, you are beautiful,” he said, so I punched him.

“You’re also violent and I love you,” he added, rubbing his arm.

“You are a mushy so-and-so, how can we have a conversation if you dissolve into mush the whole time?”

“Keep the vision, for together we could make such things happen.”

It was my turn to stare at him.

“What?”

“Your vision, we could make it happen.”

It’s not a vision, it’s just an idea that came off the top of my head.”

“Even so, it or something like it could be done,” he said.

“Really?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, probably because it would cost a fortune.”

“Have you any idea how much the estate is worth, let alone my father?”

I shook my head.

“This estate is worth about twelve million alone. Then there are the estates and farms in Angus and Aberdeenshire. The house in Mayfair and the villa in Monaco, brings the total up to about one hundred million. Then there’s the yacht Dad keeps in the Monaco Marina. The commercial side is worth twice that, stock market permitting, so money is hardly a problem.”

“Oh,” I said, now lost for words.

“Makes the poor policeman from London seem out of the league, really, doesn’t it?”

I nodded, but then shook my head.

“No, never place anyone in a different league just over an accident of birth. I may only be a scatty blonde, but the one thing that really pisses me off is unfairness. Mark is a lovely
guy, of whom I’m very fond, so never place him out of the way, purely on social breeding or financial standing,” I said, rather too heatedly.

He looked at me, but a smile slowly spread across his face.

“Christina, firstly, I apologise, unreservedly, for being a snob of the first order; secondly, I thank you for bringing me back down to earth. And, thirdly, the one thing you are not is scatty. A blonde, yes; beautiful, yes; intelligent, yes; and passionate, most definitely. But scatty, never!” he said.

“That’s cheating,” I said.

“What is?” he asked, in mock surprise.

“Apologising with compliments is a sneaky and underhand tactic, and doesn’t work,” I said.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

I smiled. “Well, sometimes it might.”

He took my hands again. We stood facing each other in the vast banqueting hall. Stags’ heads with resplendent antlers were spaced out on the walls, with shields and huge broadswords in between them.

“Christina, all this is as nothing to me. If you said the word, I would sell it and give the entire proceeds to the charity of your choice. I don’t think it would help in the long term, but I would do it without hesitation.”

I looked into his eyes and believed him.

“You would?”

He nodded.

“For me?”

He nodded again.

“For you, I would lay down my life.”

For the life of me, I still don’t know why, but I started to cry. No one had ever said anything quite so deep and sincere to me, ever.
He kissed my cheek, where the tears rolled.

“Don’t cry, it wasn’t meant to hurt you.”

“I’m not hurt, you stupid man. You managed to move me to tears. There is a big difference.”

“You taste salty,” he said, kissing me again. I felt the passion build up, so responded. My whole being ached for him; at last I understood what it felt like to be in love.

Had he wanted me then, I would have surrendered to him, willingly.

Thankfully, he was made of stronger stuff than I.

He broke off and held my hands.

“My father said that you were the one. For the first and only time, I agree with him, so hereby declare that I will not rest until you are my bride.”

I smiled, saying nothing, but in my heart I had already made up my mind.

“I want to introduce you to my aunt Eileen.”

“From which side?”

“She’s my father’s younger sister, but is nothing like him. She lives in a small house on the estate. Her husband used to farm one of the farms, but he died a couple of years ago of a heart attack. She is a lovely lady, so is the only other woman who ever stood up to my father’s tantrums.”

We took the Porsche, which was more comfortable than the Land Rover with its hard seats. The house was quite a big one, obviously a farmhouse, with five or six bedrooms.

“Has she any children?”

“Three, Phillippa who is thirty, Ralph (pronounced Rayfe) twenty seven, and Jane who is twenty four. All are married, but only Ralph lives here, as he farms this and the next-door farm.

He and his wife Sally live in the big house in the trees over there,” he said, pointing across the glen.

As we pulled up outside, three overweight black Labradors waddled up, barking in a half-hearted way. They obviously knew Alistair well, so greeted him with enthusiasm, until they discovered that he had no food for them.

A sprightly, grey-haired woman came out to greet us, who, despite being in her late sixties, was still very good looking. She had on a tartan kilt and a green pullover. Stout walking shoes showed her for the countrywoman she obviously was.

“Alistair, darling. How lovely. I was wondering when I would see you,” she said, giving him a huge hug and a kiss. Then she saw me and paled visibly.

“Aunt, this is Christina, whom I hope to persuade to marry me. Christina, this is Eileen, Dad’s sister.”

She looked at me most strangely, so I looked at Alistair to help.

“My Gracious, child, I am so sorry, but you looked so like someone else, it gave me quite a turn,” she said and then embraced me.

“She does, doesn’t she, Aunt?” Alistair said.

“Not so much the features, more in the bearing and general demeanour. Has she met my brother?”

“Yes.”

“What was your father’s reaction?”

“He saw it too, she stunned him almost to silence,” he said, at which point I realised what they were talking about.

“Christina, I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m afraid you gave me quite a turn, as you do look very like Alistair’s mother, it's quite uncanny, for when I first saw you it was as if she was standing there again. We were all very fond of her, so her death hit all of us very hard. Even my cold-hearted brother was affected deeply.”

She took us inside and put the kettle on. We sat in a lovely sitting room, where she gave us tea. She handed me a photograph, and I gasped.

There was another, older, Alistair, dressed in a kilt standing beside a girl who could have been my sister in the most beautiful wedding dress. It was his parents in the early 1970s. She was a lot younger than he was, and she even had her hair the same length as I.

I laughed, and teased Alistair.

“The Oedipus complex?” I asked, and he chuckled.

“Not really, you were simply the most beautiful girl at the party, it was only later that I realised that you resembled my mother. But as Eileen said, it's not the features, but your Nordic bearing and expression.

“Have you Scandinavian blood?” Eileen asked.

“My mother is Swedish, and I have many relatives over there.” I said, and she nodded.

“I heard Alistair say he wanted to persuade you, I take it you have turned him down?”

“No, but I haven’t accepted either. We've only met on a handful of occasions, and never for more than a couple of hours each time. I have to know someone rather better if I am to agree to commit myself to them for the rest of my life.”

“Good girl. Scone?”
 
 
It was a lovely afternoon, and I liked his aunt very much. She was very down to earth, and my kind of person. Although younger than her brother by six or seven years, she had started a family long before Edgar. She said that having children, and now grand children, had kept her young, and she certainly seemed almost a generation younger than that poor man in a wheelchair.

We left her at about six, but I felt that I had met someone who would have an impact on my life, if ever I should actually accept Alistair’s proposal.

He opened the door of the Porsche, for me to get in. He slid into the drivers seat and looked at me before starting the engine.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

“What are the options?”

“Dinner at my abode. Which means eggs, as that’s all I’ve got. Dinner out, or straight to bed, and spend the next twelve hours making wild passionate love.”

I actually hesitated, and this made him laugh at me.

“Why don’t I cook for you?” I asked.

“No ingredients.”

“Show me,” I said, and he drove me to his little cottage.

I searched his fridge, freezer and larder, and made my mind up.

“Right, you go and make me a gin and tonic, with ice and lemon, and I’ll make you supper,” I said.

I had enough to make a Spanish omelette, with potatoes, tomatoes, peppers and cheese. There was a little bacon, which I fried and added at the last minute. Using egg whites and sugar, I made a floating Island with a caramel sauce. He found a bottle of Sangre de Torres, and even lit a candle.

We sat at his small dining table, and ate our simple meal together. He was very quiet, and I cleared away the main course. I brought in the floating Island, which had not collapsed, and poured the caramel sauce over the top. He stared at me, and looked very strange.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect. Christina, I just don’t want this moment to end,” he said.

I knew exactly what he meant, and smiled.

“If it's any consolation, I have made my mind up over one thing.”

“Oh yes?” he looked at me hopefully.

“I have decided that I do love you, and that being married to you would not be the end of the world.”

“Does that mean you will?”

“Probably,” I said, and he laughed.

I dished up the dessert, and we ate in silence, content to be in each other’s company.

We washed up together, and sat, snuggled together on the sofa, drinking coffee.

“Stay the night?” he said.

“I’d love to, but I won’t,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because I am not ready to take that step, and if I stayed, I would make love to you. I need that to be something special, and once I know for sure who will be my husband.”

“It would be something special,” he said with a wicked grin.

“I know, but I'll only give myself to a man once for the first time, and that man will have my heart, my soul and my all. I can’t give you that tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have unfinished business to sort out first, not least in my own mind.”

He nodded, and kissed the side of my head.

“You're such a strong person.”

“No, I’m not. Had you wanted me, there in the heather, this afternoon, you could have but asked and I would have given myself to you. I am not strong, as I'm afraid of my own mind, and I'm afraid of hurting anyone, particularly you.”

“You know that I would wait for you, for as long as you want?”

“Then you're a fool,” I laughed at him.

“I need you Chris. You make my life complete.”

“I need to be needed, and I promise not to make you wait too long. But we need to know for sure.”

“I already know for sure,” he said.

“I know you think you do. I think I do, but that's not enough. Not only must we be able to live together, we need to be able to live apart to find out if we should be together.”

He laughed.

“You lost me. But I get the gist of what you're saying. Well, next week, we'll be apart, and once I ship off to the Balkans, then I have no idea when I'll see you again.”

“That hurts, Alistair. You have no idea how much that hurts.”

“Then stay the night.”

I thought about it.

“No. Not because I don’t want to, I do. But it’ll make the parting even worse.”

He gently held my cheek, and turned my face towards him, and saw that tears were in my eyes.

“You’re crying again?”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I said, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

“You won’t. I promise. I’ll try very hard not to get killed.”

I laughed, but it wasn’t funny.

“Now I know a little of what they felt like in the two world wars, and why everyone rushed to get married. No one knew if they would ever see their loved one again,” I said.

We kissed for a while, and I felt myself melt into his arms. My resistance was weakening, so I knew that if this kept up, not only would I stay the night, but I would make love to him as well. He knew it, too.

I broke off.

I was ready for him, and I could feel that he was more than ready for me.

“Take me back, please,” I said, and he nodded, smiling sadly.

The journey back to the school was a silent one, both of us knew where we were at, so no words were necessary. Besides, we both knew that we would be seeing each other again over the next few days.

He pulled up outside the Robertson’s home, where we sat in the car for a while. He held my hand, but I felt awful.

“Why so sad?” he asked.

“I feel that I’ve disappointed you,” I admitted.

“You haven’t. In fact, I can honestly say that I’ve never respected anyone as much as I respect you, right now.”

I smiled. “I also feel that I’ve hurt you by turning you down.”

“I’m not hurt. Yes, I would have liked to have made love to you, and I’m sure we would have been wonderful together, but I still have that to look forward to. But you’re so special to me that it is actually relatively unimportant, all I need is your love.”

I looked into his eyes.

“You know that you have that,” I said.

“Have I?”

“Oh yes. You certainly have,” I said, and he kissed me.

He broke off, smiling down at me. It was very strange being smaller.

“Why does kissing you turn me into a quivering wreck?”

“I don’t know. Why?” I asked.

He laughed and got out of the car, walking round and opening my door.

“Thank you for the most wonderful day,” he said.

“It was, wasn’t it?” I said.

He kissed me, and I wanted to throw myself at him.

“Goodnight, my little love,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

I watched him drive away, knowing that my life’s course had just changed.
 
 
Chapter 6
 
 
The next day turned a happy dream into a nightmare. September 11th was more than a nightmare. The images of those planes flying into the Twin Towers will haunt me forever. One can wake up from a nightmare, so that reality is a welcome relief. This day was the day when reality became the nightmare.

Alistair came over, and we went out to walk in the hills, numb with shock. Neither of us could comprehend the insane inhumanity that caused these people to kill so many innocent people. The world became a much sadder place, and it made me see my own past problems in a new light.

Alistair found an excuse to see me every day, so when we were at the Angus Ball, he hardly left my side. Ingrid teased me to start with, but then realised that I was hooked. When she found out the extent of the hook, she was aghast.

“You would be a Countess?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“Bloody hell!”

I just smiled, as I was growing to like the idea.

Alex was working out how to get us back down south. He and Ingrid were due back at Cambridge University eight days later, so they planned to come down and stay with us, we were toying with train timetables, as there was no way that they could keep a car in Cambridge.
 
 
The Sunday after the Ball was our last day with the Robertsons, and we were all tired after the Ball and parties. I was feeling down because I was missing Alistair already, and feeling guilty over Mark.

I phoned Steve on my mobile, and poured my woes out to him.

He was great, listening to it all without comment.

“Mark will understand,” he said at the end.

“How do you know?”

“I get the impression that he felt out of his depth.”

“We all were.”

“But did you show it?”

“Probably not.”

“Then he will have persuaded himself that you are out of his league.”

“You reckon?”

“Definitely. Look, I suggest you ring him, arrange to see him to talk about stuff, and he will understand.”

“Oh, Steve. I feel awful.”

“You never meant to fall in love, and besides, you never thought Mark was the ‘one’ did you?”

“No, but he was so sincere.”

“Have you any idea how gorgeous you are?”

“What do you mean?”

“Chris, this is Stephanie talking, or Steve, I’m the person who knows you better than anyone else. Would I lie to you?”

“No.”

“Then realise, that to meet you is to fall in love with you. Shit, Chris. I was a lesbian, yet I fell in love with you when you were a bloke, so when you turned up as a girl, it was a double whammy.”

“Oh.”

“Give Mark a ring. I promise, he will have already seen how the land lies, and will be content to remain a friend.”

“Shit, Steve. I’m not sure.”

“Trust me, my love,” he said.

“Okay. Anyway, how are you?”

“Great. I’m really enjoying life now.”

“How’s Debbie?”

“She’s fine. She moved in with me last week.”

“No?”

“Sorry. But she has.”

“That’s great. No regrets?”

“None, it’s like a dream come true.”

“Are you okay in yourself now, what with your parents and everything?”

“It’s fine. Chris, it is like coming home after being lost for years.”

“I know; I feel the same. I keep pinching myself, to make sure it’s not a dream.”

“So, if you married this Scottish soldier, you wouldn’t really be a countess?”

“His father is the Earl of Dundas, so he would be the next Earl, and his wife would be a Countess. So, if that is going to be me, then yes.”

I heard him chuckle on the other end.

“It’s not that funny.”

“No, it is bloody wonderful. My friend Christian Reynolds, a bloody Earl’s wife.”

I had to laugh too, as it was surreal in the extreme.

We promised to see each other soon, I said that I would come back to work in a week or so, when the cast came off.

“You’re going to leave the office, aren’t you?” he asked.

“What makes you think that?”

“I know you. The bloody office is hardly where your destiny lies.”

“Oh yes, so, clever clogs, oh great all-knowing One, just where does my destiny lie?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“With your soldier in that misty glen, where your heart is.”

I was silenced. For he was right, my heart was exactly there, with all its imperfections, I was drawn to that strange and wonderful place.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you maybe.”

I laughed.

“Look I have to go, Debbie will start getting the wrong idea. She was convinced we were an item in any case.”

“We may have been.”

“No, I could never have loved you like that and let you go.”

“Okay, then I’ll phone you when I get home.”

“Fine, and good luck with Mark.”

“Thanks, bye.”

“Bye.”
 
 
I then rang Mark’s mobile, with my heart in my mouth.

“Mark Williams.”

“Hi Mark.

There was a moment’s silence.

“Christina. How are you?”

He was awkward, and I sensed something was not quite right.

“I’m fine, how was court?”

“He was found guilty, but it took three days. Look, I need to speak to you.”

“Oh.”

This wasn’t going to plan.

“I realise that things ended a bit strained, and I’ve been thinking. I want to apologise.”

“Why?”

“I over-reacted, and said lots of things that perhaps I shouldn’t have.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is awkward. Is there any way we can meet up?”
“I’m still in Scotland. We should be coming south tomorrow. I just wanted to talk to you,” I said.

“Shit. I’m sorry Christina, I’ve been a bit of a idiot, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re a beautiful girl, and you have so much going for you. But I don’t think we could ever make it.”

“Why?”

“Look, I feel really awful, because I know how strong I came onto you, but I’ve had time to think, and, well, we just belong to different worlds.”

“Oh?”

“You see, it was bad enough when I came out to your place. I felt out of my depth there, but then in Scotland, it was completely different. You fitted in, as if you were born to it. You even spoke the language and looked the part, while I just felt like an interloper, a fraud. But it was fun and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. So for that I thank you. But you deserve someone who can take you out of the London Sprawl, and never in a million years would you end up as a copper’s wife.”

“Mark, I…”

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. But as I look back and think about it, I fell in love with a dream, and reality is different. You’re a fabulous, generous and warm hearted girl, and I was chuffed that you were attracted to me, but over the last week, I know that I loved what you stood for, and felt possessive over that.”

I was very quiet, my guilt was heavy on my shoulders, and yet I was too much of a coward to tell him the truth.

Mistaking my silence for being upset, he apologised again.

“Chris, you were right, I was besotted by someone I had seen brought back from the dead. I’d like to remain friends, if you could bear it, that is?”

“Oh sweet Mark. What happened to wanting to marry me?”

“I came back to the real world. I could make you happy, but it would be like cutting a swan’s wings, you and me are just too different.”

“It could have worked,” I said, realising that I was wrong.

“Chris, I feel privileged to have known you, and would value you as a friend, but to be realistic, I could not see you as Mrs Williams, and struggling with several squealing brats on a copper’s salary.”

I was quiet again.

“I’m sorry to have told you on the phone. I feel a coward.”

“Mark, don’t be silly. You’re a sweet guy, so I’d be honoured to have you as a friend. Most of what you told me, I already knew, but didn’t know how to tell you. You took me by surprise by coming out with it first,” I admitted.

He actually sighed with relief.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” I said.

“I thought you’d be upset.”

“I am in a way, as I was, am, attracted to you. But I think I knew that it was partially reaction to the accident and all that.”

“You’re still the most stunning girl I have ever been out with.”

“Thanks, you aren’t so bad yourself.”

“Any chance of meeting up for a drink, sometime?”

“Give me a ring next week, and we’ll set a place and time.”

“Okay, and thanks.”

“What for?” I asked.

“For being you, and understanding.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was fun.”

“How did the soldier make out with you?” he asked.

“Oh, him? He wants to marry me as well.”

He laughed. “You just have that effect on us blokes. Will you?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?”

“You’re too good for him.”

“You still jealous?”

“Of course, but to be honest, he’s nearer your league than I ever was.”

“His dad is an Earl.”

“You deserve royalty.”

“You’re soft.”

“Chris, you’re so lovely, when will you realise that you could aim for the moon, and hit the sun?”

I was stunned into silence for a third time.
 
 
We finished the call and suddenly I felt better about life, but then I remembered that I was not going to see Alistair for ages, so felt miserable again.

I found Sheila and helped her prepare dinner. She had a secretive smile on her face, but I was too grumpy to wonder about it. Alex and Ingrid were on the Internet sorting out train timetables, and I was feeling very spare.

“So, did I hear you were talking to your policeman?” Sheila asked.

“Yes, he told me we were from different worlds, and it would never work between us.”

“Sensible boy, but why the long face?”

“I think because I felt the same, but didn’t expect him to dump me,” I said with a grin.

She laughed.

“He was a nice boy, but as I said, not in your league.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Are you planning to see Alistair again?”

“I’d love to, but no. He’s off to the Balkans in a few days, so there isn’t time.”

“So, how do you feel about him?”

I smiled. “I’m not sure, but I think I love the silly sod. He makes me feel good, and I feel as if I am walking on air when I am with him.”

“You’ve seen the responsibilities he will inherit.”

“Yes, and I met his father. Poor old man, it’s so sad.”

“Sad? Most people think he’s getting his just desserts.”

“No one should have missed what he has, even if it was his own fault. He may have been responsible for people disliking him, but he has missed out so much, I feel sorry for both him and Alistair, who may stand to inherit millions, but he will never have a loving father.”

“My, you do care deeply for people, don’t you?”

“I care when I see such sad things happen, yes,” I agreed.

“Well, don’t be too grumpy, because Bruce asked a certain young man to join us for dinner tonight.”

“Who, not Alistair?”

“Might be,” she said with a smile.

Suddenly the world was a much brighter place, and I found myself smiling again.

“Come on, help me with the pie,” Sheila asked, and I happily peeled and cored a pile of cooking apples.

Alex and Ingrid came in, and I was humming away happily next to the sink.

“Oh, Mum. You told her,” Alex said, on seeing my mood.

“I had to, she was so bloody miserable, I couldn’t let her near a kitchen knife for fear she would slash her own wrists,” Sheila said.

Ingrid laughed and came over to help with the apples.

“I am glad to see you can be cheerful,” she teased.

“It’s only for the evening. You will have me all miserable on the train tomorrow,” I said, to get back at her.

“We aren’t going tomorrow. Ingrid is staying here for a couple more days,” Alex said, with a smirk.

I frowned.

“But I thought we’re all going together. I’ve even packed,” I said.

“You’re going tomorrow. We aren’t,” Ingrid said.

I was confused, and must have looked it because Sheila laughed.

“Oh for goodness sakes, let the poor girl out of her misery,” she said.

“You’re going by car, Chris,” said my sister, with a grin.

“Yes, we thought it much better, what with your arm in plaster,” said her beastly boyfriend.

I was still frowning.

Then I felt two arms encircle me from behind.

“Hi gorgeous. Ready for our trip tomorrow?” said a very familiar voice.

I spun round.

“Alistair!” I almost shrieked.

He laughed at my reaction.

“They haven’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

He looked at them, and they were almost wetting themselves with laughter.

“That was very cruel,” he said to them.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” I begged.

“Alex called me to ask me for dinner, and wondered if I would mind taking you home tomorrow. They’re planning to go straight to Cambridge, and so as I was going south anyway, they thought I could give you a lift. Your sister arranged for me to stay over at your house tomorrow night, so then I can join my Squadron at RAF Brize Norton on the following day, to ship out.”

I looked at Ingrid and she was crying with laughter.

“You wait,” I said, and she got worse.

I turned to Alistair and kissed him.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. Believe me, it’ll be a pleasure.”

To say my spirits were restored was an understatement. I was so bubbly that Ingrid threatened extreme violence at one point. But it was a lovely last meal. Bruce and Sheila had treated us so well that I was actually very sad to be leaving them. We really felt that we were part of their family, so knew that we would see them again, regardless of whether Alex and Ingrid actually ended up together.

Alistair sat next to me, and it was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. In fact, we did not behave like a couple of besotted lovers, as we hardly spoke to each other. We didn’t need to, as the fact he was there was enough for me, and our legs were touching all through the meal.
 
 
After washing up, we all sat up chatting and drinking liqueurs. I was conscious that Alistair was drinking too much if he was going to drive home later. But by eleven thirty, Sheila and Bruce said goodnight.

“Oh, and Alistair, you know where your towels are, don’t you dear?” asked Sheila as she was leaving the room.

“Yes, thanks. I’ll be fine,” he replied.

I looked at him and he grinned.

“You sneaky sod,” I said, and he tickled me until I surrendered.

We continued chatting for a little longer, and then Ingrid started yawning, and Alex took the hint. I was aware that their relationship had deepened, and I was prepared to bet that my little sister may well lose her virginity before me at this rate.

We were alone, and I snuggled up to him on the sofa.

“I was so miserable when I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” I said.

“Me too. Then Alex called and told me you were making everyone depressed, so he came up with this plan. I selfishly thought that it was brilliant, because this way I get you for another couple of days, all to myself.”

I grinned and kissed him.

“Thank you,” I said.

We sat, just being together.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“Marry me?”

“All right,” I said, without any hesitation, and straight from the heart.

He fell silent, just looking at me. I just sat there, with my head on his shoulder.

“What?”

“All right.”

He shifted slightly, so he could see my expression. He thought I was teasing.

I smiled.

“Chris, don’t muck about, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” I replied, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Oh my God!”

“No, just me.”

“You will?”

“I will.”

“Bloody Hell. Really?”

“Look, you asked, I accepted, do you really want to invoke the Spanish Inquisition?”

He laughed and hugged me.

“I can’t believe this. What made you change your mind?”

“I realised how miserable I was without you, and not knowing where you were, what you were doing, or even when I was going to see you again. My whole being yearned for you, and now you are with me, I feel complete. I have never felt this way about anyone, and I find I like it. I want us to be together, so if that means marriage, then I will marry you.”

He jumped up.

“Stay there, don’t go anywhere,” he said, and dashed out.

I sat there, my mind in yet another whirl. I had accepted his proposal, so that meant I had agreed to become a Countess. It was all a bit unreal, and I tried to guess my mother’s reaction. I couldn’t, but then I didn’t really know how I was reacting myself. I was going to be Lady Christina McLeish, Countess of Dundas. Oh my God. What had I agreed to?

I was still having a wobbly when Alistair returned.

He got down on one knee and produced a small box. He opened it, revealing the most delightful ring I have ever seen. It was gold, with three enormous diamonds set in a line, but with an intricate design all around them. It looked very precious.

“Christina, will you make me the happiest man in the world, and accept my hand in marriage?” he said, very formally.

I grinned, and said, “Yes, my love, I would be honoured to accept your hand in marriage.”

He looked at me, as if he was expecting a funny remark, but I restrained myself.

He took my left hand, carefully, for he was aware of the cast, and slipped the ring onto my ring finger. It fitted perfectly. He then kissed my hand, and I pulled him up next to me.

“Now you have me, what are you going to do with me?” I asked.

“What would you like me to do with you?”

“Love me, cherish me, and be mine forever,” I said.

“With pleasure, if you will reciprocate.”

“You know I do.”

“Then you have just made me the happiest man in the world.”

We kissed, and it was a totally new feeling, I felt warmth spread across my whole being, starting from my heart, and reaching the tips of my toes and fingers. I was where I really wanted to be.

He picked me up, and carried me upstairs. He pushed open my door, and laid me on my bed. I wanted him to undress me, and make love to me, for I would have let him. No, that wasn’t quite right, for I would have helped him.

Instead, he kissed me tenderly, said goodnight, and left me alone.

I lay there, feeling as if I was floating on air, and examined my new ring. It was so beautiful that I almost wept. I eventually undressed, slipped on my nightdress and cleaned my teeth. I sat brushing my hair, still staring at the ring on my finger, still disbelieving what had happened. I was tempted to go next-door and slip into my beloved’s bed, and allow him to make me totally his, but chickened out.

I eventually slept, but dreamed of him.
 
 
I was awake early, eager to be alone with Alistair. I dressed in a light blue denim skirt and a low cut top, which had short sleeves, and was quite tight. I went down and found that Sheila and Bruce were already up. Ingrid and Alex were still in bed, and I heard the shower going, so I knew that Alistair was up.

I made myself a coffee, but kept seeing the ring, causing me to grin inanely. I poured myself some cereal, and took the milk from the fridge. I sat down and was just pouring the milk when Sheila caught a glance of the ring.

“Oh my God. Christina, tell me you didn’t?” she said.

I looked at the ring and smiled.

“Let me see,” she said, so I put my hand out.

“My, it’s beautiful, really beautiful. So, you succumbed, you mad fool.”

I smiled, as Bruce looked up from his Daily Telegraph.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Christina is engaged to young Alistair,” Sheila said.

“Gracious, when did that happen?” he asked.

“Last night, after you went to bed,” I said.

“That was quick, you only met last week,” he observed.

“I suppose, but I know it’s right,” I said.

Sheila smiled. “I knew that first time I saw you together at the Perth Ball. You just fitted so well together. I had a strong feeling then that you were made for each other,” she said.

The man in question made his entrance.

“Congratulations Alistair, when’s the day?” Bruce asked.

He looked at me and smiled. Ignoring Bruce for the moment, he came over and kissed me.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Good morning,” I said, my whole being tingled with pleasure now he was near me.

“Morning Bruce, Sheila. I have no idea, because we haven’t discussed it. I imagine it will be in the summer, when I get some leave.”

It hadn’t crossed my mind, I had thought about being a wife, but not a bride. I now had visions of wedding dresses and my mother being bossy and organising everyone. I smiled, as she had wanted this for so long. At least I would beat Ingrid to the altar.
 
 
We had a quiet breakfast, after which Bruce said goodbye and went off to work. I went back upstairs to make my bed and collect my things. I was about to lug my cases down stairs, when Alistair took them and carried them to the car.

I hugged Sheila, and she asked me to write in the visitors’ book. By then Ingrid and Alex had put in an appearance in their dressing gowns. I hugged them both, and just as I got into the car, I flashed the ring at my scheming sister, and as we drove off down the drive, I mouthed the words, “GOT YOU BACK.”

I last saw her doing goldfish impressions as we disappeared round the bend.

I sat quietly, feeling sad that my holiday was over and I was leaving Scotland. I loved the place, as the whole pace of life was so much quieter and slow compared London. The strange thing was, I almost felt more at home up here than my flat in London, or even at my parents’ home in Buckinghamshire.

“You’re very quiet.”

“Mmm, sorry, but a lot has happened over the last few days.”

“I can’t think what. Honestly, you arrived up here with one man, and end up leaving engaged to a complete stranger. Morals of a complete tart.”

I laughed, as it did look rather odd.

“It’s all unreal. I don’t think it has sunk in fully yet,” I admitted.

“Listen Christina, I know that I bullied you a little, so if you feel uncomfortable or unhappy with everything, then say so, and we can take a step back,” he said.

I reached out and touched him with my hand.

“No. I’m very comfortable and extremely happy. I don’t know what I’ll say to my mother, but I have never been happier.”

“What will you say to Mark? That has been bothering me.”

“We’ve already spoken. He decided that he likes me a lot, but that we are too different. We’ve already agreed that a relationship is not a good idea, but we will stay friends.”

Alistair looked at me in surprise.

“When did you speak to him?”

“Yesterday, I phoned him. In fact, it was his idea, so he dumped me before I could dump him.”

He smiled. “I’m glad. For him, particularly, as I felt bad about him, and the fact I encroached on his territory.”

“I’m not territory. Neither am I possessions, chattels or property. So, please do me the honour of realising that now.”

“You are my woman,” he said firmly.

“Yes, I am a woman, and for the moment, I am yours, and long as you are mine, or one of us should die,” I said.

He looked at me sharply.

“Till death us do part?”

“Or you are unfaithful, and I castrate you with my curling tongs.”

He grinned.

“So, what will you say to your mother about us?”

“I don’t know. What was said to her when they told her you were bringing me home?”

“Just that someone was dropping you off on the way. Ingrid was careful to mention no names, or give a clue about how we felt about each other.”

“Why?”

“I think she didn’t want to upset you, or say anything out of turn.”

I smiled, remembering her face as we drove off. At that moment my mobile rang, it was Ingrid.

“Hi,” I said.

“Chris, you absolute cow. How could you?”

“Well, how could you make all those arrangements behind my back?”

“That was different. Sheila said that you and Alistair are engaged. Is she right?”

“Yes.”

“When did that happen?”

“After you and lover boy went to bed.”

“God. That was very sudden. Chris, are you sure you know what you are doing?”

“He’s the one, Ing. I know it for sure. He is the one. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Shit, Chris, what will you tell Mum?”

“The truth - hi Mum, had a lovely time, and by the way I am engaged, and this is Alistair, the Earl of Dundas, my fiancé,” I said, looking at Alistair, who laughed.

Ingrid was silent, which was rare.

“Bloody hell. I’d forgotten. He isn’t yet though, is he?”

“Not yet. But I met his father, and believe me, it won’t be that long.”

Alistair smiled sadly and nodded.

Ingrid laughed.

“My sister, a bloody Lady Muck!”

“I’ll have you carted off to the Tower if you’re not careful,” I replied and we both laughed.

“Seriously Christina, I am so pleased for you. Do you love him?”

I looked at Alistair.

“Yes, I really do love him,” I said, and he smiled at me.

“Do you want me to call mum and break the news gently?” she asked.

“No. Please don’t. I need to do that myself when we get there.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon. We will have to swing by to collect some of my stuff anyway.”

We ended the call, and I put my phone back in my bag.

“I saw my Dad before I left, yesterday.”

“Oh yes, and how was he?”

“Not good. The doctor was there. I don’t think he will make Christmas.”

I was quiet, not a lot one can say to something like that.

“He likes you,” he said.

“Does he?”

“Yes, he gave me the ring. It was my mothers. He told me that if I let you get away, then I should be shot.”

I smiled.

“I never really liked the old sod, but somehow, now I feel sorry for him,” he admitted.

“It’s hard for you both. But when you become a father, there is no way I would allow you to behave to your children in the same way as he did.”

He smiled. “I believe you.”

“So you should,” I said.

“Does the title bother you?”

“Should it?”

“It does some people.”

“I’m not one of them. It’s just a title. It means nothing really, just that somewhere in history someone ass-licked enough of the right people.”

He laughed so much that I was worried that he was going to lose control of the car.

“You are something else. Oh, Christina, that’s one of the many reasons I find you completely irresistible. You just say what you feel, and it’s lovely.”

I smiled.

“The man makes his own mark on the world, not what his forefathers did.”

“Oh, I agree, that’s why I don’t use my title of ‘the Honourable’ unless I absolutely have to. It is all so bloody silly.”
 
 
We sped south, down the M74, then hit the M6 at the border, and once again no silly comments were made about Gretna Green as we passed it.

The miles flew past, and we chatted about everything and nothing. We began to get to know each other just a little better as each mile passed beneath us. The more I got to know him, the more I came to love him, and I sensed that he felt the same about me.

We stopped for lunch at a small pub in Lancashire, and I felt so happy to be part of his life. So, I was quite sad as we came off the M40 near Oxford, and started the cross-country route to home.
 
 
When we finally pulled up on the drive, I felt as if I was on the eve of a completely new part of my life. I had consigned the memories of Christian Reynolds do the deepest depths of my mind, so much so, that he almost ceased to register in my life at all any more.

Barney came out, sounding far fiercer than he could ever be capable of, and greeted me with his usual affection. He also greeted Alistair with far more enthusiasm than he normally showed strangers, but then I thought that Alistair was part-retriever anyway.

It was my father who came out to greet us, and he immediately gave me a hug.

“Hello sweetie, did you have a lovely time?” he asked me.

“Oh Daddy, it was wonderful. I can’t tell you. Oh, this is Alistair McLeish, my fiancé,” I said.

Daddy started to hold his hand out to Alistair, who grinned at my casual remark, and then stopped. He turned and gaped at me.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“This is Lieutenant, the Honourable Alistair McLeish of Dundas, and the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. The man to whom I am engaged to be married. Alistair, my love, this is Professor, the mad William Reynolds, my father.”

Daddy’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then, very slowly, a smile began and developed into an enormous grin.

“How do you do, sir?” said Alistair.

“I’m not sure, young man. My dear daughter has succeeded in completely wrong footing me yet again,” Daddy replied, shaking Alistair’s hand.

“I apologise sir, I should have spoken to you first, and formally informed you that I intended to ask for your daughter’s hand, and sought your permission to do so. But events overtook us both, and she only accepted my proposal yesterday.”

“My dear boy, that sounds very formal, and I’m sure that we can dispense with such outdated traditions in this day and age. If my daughter has accepted, then I should just shut up, and accept your inevitable fate,” he said, making Alistair laugh.

My mother then appeared, as Alistair lugged my case from his car.

“Christina, my sweet. How was your journey?”

“Fine Mama, it was actually very nice,” I said, as we embraced.

She saw the ring immediately, and opened her mouth to speak, but Daddy got in first.

“Chris is engaged,” he said.

“So I see,” she said, calmly, and then looked at Alistair.

I introduced him to her, and she took both his hands.

“Let me look at the man who has so much courage as to take on my terrible daughter,” she said, and he laughed.

“Now I can see where she gets her character from,” he said, and Mama chuckled.

“What does, ‘the Honourable’ mean?” she asked, as we moved inside.

“His father is the Earl of Dundas,” I said.

She looked at me, frowning.

“Earl, what is an Earl?”

Alistair laughed.

“An earl is one of the oldest titles. It comes from the old-Norse Jarl, and comes below Duke, Viscount, and Marquess. The wife of an Earl is a Countess, and they are addressed as Lord and Lady Dundas, or whatever the title stipulates.”

“So, you make my daughter a Lady?”

“Madam, your daughter is a princess, but I seek to make her my wife.”

This was too much for Mama, and she burst out laughing. She took his arm and bombarded him with questions. He carried our cases into the hall, and put them down. My father offered him a drink, so he accepted a small whisky.

“Pah. I must see to the dinner, Christina, come and help,” Mama said, so I followed her to the kitchen, leaving Alistair in my father’s hands.

My mother had dinner well taken care of, so she sat me at the kitchen table, and the interrogation commenced.

“So, young lady, tell me, how you manage to go up to Scotland with one young man, and return engaged to another?”

I shrugged and told her everything. Even down to the phone conversation I had with Mark.

“You were right, Mama. I knew he was the one,” I said, to finish.

She smiled, nodding.

“I knew that there was a special man out there. Never in a million years did I ever dream that my daughter would become a Countess.”

“It may not happen. His father may live for another fifty years,” I said, with a smile.

“I don’t care, you are so happy,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“You can see that?” I asked.

“Oh yes, of course. You are aglow with happiness. He is the one for you.”

We had a little cuddle, and nothing more needed to be said between us on that score.

“He is a soldier?”

“Yes, he is a troop commander, tanks, I think,” I said.

“You will miss him when he goes abroad, won’t you?”

“Very much, but I accept that for the moment, that’s his life.”

“Will he always be a soldier?”

“No, only a couple more years at the most. He may stay on, but I am hoping that he will want to be with me and the children,” I said.

“Christina, no. You are not expecting too?”

I laughed.

“Mama, no. Of course not, but I want his children so much,” I said.

She looked relieved, and I laughed at her reaction.

“Mama, you know that I will save myself for the man I marry, so will Ingrid.”

“I know, but it was the way you said it.”

We chuckled together, and went through to the drawing room, to find Daddy and Alistair on their hands and knees closely examining a piece of Chinese furniture. It was a cabinet that had been in the family for as long as anyone could remember. Alistair knew a bit about furniture, and it appeared that we owned a very rare and superb example of antique Chinese craftsmanship.

“I am not an expert, but I think this is worth around thirty thousand,” Alistair said.

“Good God,” said my father, genuinely surprised.

Alistair saw me, and grinned.

“Hi, you never told me your father collected antiques.”

“He doesn’t. He lives in a house which has antiques in it, he wouldn’t know an antique if it got up and bit him,” I said.

“Oh, Christina, that is unfair,” Mama said.

“”Maybe, but am I right?”

“Perhaps. But it doesn’t help his confidence much,” she said.

Alistair laughed, and stood up. Daddy was still interested in the Chinese lettering on the base of the piece.
 
 
The evening passed very pleasantly, and my parents retired after the ten o’clock news as they did every night. We were left alone, with Barney, sitting in the sitting room.

“Your parents are brilliant.”

“Thanks, I like them,” I said, and he laughed.

“What exactly does your father do? He tried to explain, but I still don’t know.”

“No one does. We have all tried to understand. He is a physicist, and it is all to do with atoms and particles. So he exists on a different plane to the rest of us for most of the time.”

We sat, snuggled together, both aware that he was leaving in the morning, and neither of us knew when we would be together again.

He seemed to have something on his mind.

“What is the matter?” I asked.

“Christina, last night, after we went to bed, I wanted to come to you, and make love to you,” he said.

“I wanted you to,” I admitted, and he smiled.

“Well, tonight, I want to more than anything else in the world, but I so respect you for saving yourself for your special man. I am afraid of asking you if you would come to bed with me.”

My heart was racing, as I wanted to give myself to him above anything else. I was in my parent’s house, and I did not want to offend them.

“If I should die, then I should at least have known your love before I go,” he said.

I grinned and punched him.

“Ow.”

“You are a sneaky and nasty man. You are not allowed to use emotional blackmail to get me to sleep with you.”

He looked abashed.

I smiled.

“Besides, you don’t need to. I want you to make love to me, as much as you do. I so nearly came to you last night, but did not want to offend my hosts. Oh Alistair, I have dreamed of you screwing me, ever since we first met, but I am afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Becoming pregnant, failing to satisfy you, upsetting my parents, just about everything.”

He chuckled, and kissed me.

“You’re twenty-four, and I imagine one of the few virgins left in Britain. You satisfy me just by who you are, and I promise that I will take all the necessary precautions.”

I sat for a moment, and assembled my thoughts.

“Then take me to bed, please my love.”
 
 
I awoke first, dawn was breaking and my left arm ached abominably.

I was naked, while Alistair was asleep on his stomach next to me in the bed; - his double bed in the spare room. He was naked too. One of his arms was across my belly.

I was no longer a virgin.

I expected to feel guilt, but instead I regretted not having succumbed before. I was in heaven. We had gone upstairs, hand-in-hand, but then I had undressed in my room and done my teeth. I slipped my dressing gown on, and tiptoed across the landing to his room.

He was in his bathroom, and I smiled and slipped naked under his duvet.

He came out of the bathroom,

Switching off the bathroom light. He was wearing boxer shorts. His torso was lean and well muscled, his broad shoulders and tight tummy made him look very hunky.

“Hello you,” he said.

I held up the duvet, so he slipped in beside me.

“Light on or off?” he asked.

“Am I that ugly?” I said.

He smiled, kissed me, and left the light on.

He ran his hands across my body, as shivers of anticipation and excitement ran through me. I held him close, allowing him a brief release so he could take off his boxers. He was already erect, so I touched it, feeling nervous and excited at the same time. It was hot and pulsating, so I felt myself respond, as my nipples hardened. I stroked its velvet helmet, he moaned, and kissed me.

He then kissed my breasts, sucking my nipples as I felt the pleasure course through my veins. He then kissed my belly, and then he tickled my clitoris with his tongue.

I thought I had died.

I came with such force that I was literally winded. And, while I gasped for breath, I came again and again.

The duvet was discarded, and thrown to the floor. He lay beside me, kissing me so tenderly, while he stroked my clitoris with his hand. I was so wet he felt that I was more than ready for him. I held his cock, experiencing an overwhelming desire to taste him, so I pushed him onto his back, knelt on the bed, and took him into my mouth.

He was big, as once I got the knob in, there was no room for any more. I ran my tongue around the little hole, he moaned with pleasure, thrusting with his pelvis, so his cock almost went down my throat, gagging me.

I held the shaft, preventing any more than I wanted from penetrating my mouth. A small amount of liquid seeped from the hole, and I tasted him for the first time. I wanted him inside me so much now, but I did not want him to come in my mouth. At least not this time.

I released him, and he looked at me.

“I want you,” he said, and I smiled. He took a condom and opened the packet. I took it from him, rolling it onto his cock as I had seen in the movies.

“I said I want to be on top. I have so many bruises, I don’t want you crushing me, yet,” I said, as I swung my leg over him.

He slid into me as I slowly lowered myself onto him. There was a slight pause as my hymen gave, and then he was inside me, up to the hilt. It was an indescribable feeling, physically, I felt wonderful, emotionally I felt complete and spiritually I felt as if we had just become as one.

He held my bottom, so I slowly raised and lowered myself, as he thrust inside me. I smiled down at him while he played with my breasts. The pleasure I felt was out of this world, and I felt myself building towards another orgasm. It hit me like a burning glow of pleasure and I almost screamed with pleasure. He was thrusting inside me, faster and faster, and I was going wild.
 
 
I lost count of the orgasms I had, as they seemed to run into each other, getting better and better as time went on.

Finally, with an almighty grunt, he arched his back, and impaled me as deep as he could get, shuddering as he came.

I clamped myself tight, holding him inside me, and kissing him all over his face.

“Christina, get off. I might leak.”

“I don’t care, I want your baby,” I said, and he gently, but firmly pushed me over onto my right side.

He carefully withdrew and held the condom on his cock.

“You might, but to be honest, it would be a mistake, just now,” he said, and I felt rather sheepish.

We showered together, and I was a little amazed at the amount of liquid that I had generated. I held him in the shower, revelling in our nakedness, but feeling wholly at peace with what had just happened. We went to bed, still naked, and I just hugged him.

We went to sleep in each other’s arms, and I knew that I was now wholly committed.
 
 
I lay there, listening to the birds as a new day had begun. I felt wonderful, and I silently thanked who, or whatever had engineered my miracle. I knew that women had the better deal, for the pleasure I had experienced was truly amazing.

As I looked at my lover, he stirred slightly. His arm moved, and he cupped my breast in his sleep. My nipple hardened under his touch, as a now familiar yearning spread to my groin, and I ached for him to fill me again.

I stroked his face, now rough with stubble, and he opened an eye.

He smiled.

“Hello you,” he said.

His hand on my breast stroked my nipple, and I moaned a little.

He rolled onto his side, and I saw he was already aroused.

“I need a pee,” he said, and got up.

He came back a short while later, a condom already in place.

I opened my legs, and he knelt between them, inserting himself where he belonged.

“Mind my bruises,” I said, and then lost myself as a wave of pleasure hit me.

He took longer to come this time, but he was slow and tender, supporting all his weight on his knees and elbows. We kissed and caressed each other, learning what each of us liked and didn’t like. It was a true voyage of experience, so when he finally came inside me, I was almost whimpering. Several times I wanted to rip his condom off, so I could feel him unprotected inside me, imagining his seed being injected deep into my womb. Such was my drive, that I recognised the power of the reproductive nature in woman. I wanted him to make me pregnant. The feeling soon left me, as we lay in a sweaty and luxuriously sated heap, but I remembered the feeling, and it frightened me a little.

“Are you sure you are a virgin? You make love like a professional,” he said.

“How would you know?” I asked, and he chuckled. “Anyway, I’m not a virgin any more,” I said.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. Why do you think I wanted more?”

We lay there, faces inches apart, touching and caressing each other under the covers. After a little while, I felt him harden again, and he screwed me in the spoon position. The desire for me to rip off his condom was strong again, but common sense prevailed. The position brought new sensations, and as he stimulated my clitoris with his hand as he fucked me, I broke all my previous records for orgasms.

The alarm clock rang at eight, and we rose, and showered together. I returned to my room and dressed in jeans ad a tee shirt. I was brushing my hair when Mama came in.

She sat on my bed, and looked a little sad.

“So, my daughter has grown up?” she said, and I felt a pang of guilt.

“I got up in the night, and your room was empty,” she said, with that all-knowing look of hers.

“Mama, I ….”

She held up a hand.

“Shhh. Christina, we were all young once. I lost my virginity to a young man at a party when I was sixteen. I didn’t even know his name. You have been such a wonderful girl do you think I am angry that you allow the man you love to make love to you before he goes off to potential war?”

I looked at my hands, wracked with guilt.

She came over and held me.

“Was he wonderful?” she asked, not was ‘it’ wonderful, but ‘he’.

I looked her in the eyes.

“Yes Mama, he was more than wonderful.”

“Then I am happy for you. You have a special memory. Which is more than most of us.”

She gave me a cuddle and left me alone.

They left us alone until he had to leave, and I was crying even before he carried his case to the car. We held each other for an age, and then he kissed me.

“I’ll be back soon. I’ll phone and write, and if I can I’ll Email you,” he said.

“I don’t want you to go,” I said, not unreasonably.

“I don’t want to go, but I have to. I had a chat with your father, and he’s going to put our engagement in the Times and Telegraph. I’ll call before I leave the country. I promise.”

He gave me a photograph of him in uniform. The one he had taken when he was promoted to Lieutenant a year or so ago. He looked very handsome, almost film star quality.

I held onto him, just for another minute.

Eventually and reluctantly, he took his leave, and I was plunged into gloom again. It was as if the light in my life was suddenly extinguished.
 
 

*          *          *
 
End of Part 2
 
 
To Be Continued...

 
Chris Reynolds, always wanting to please his family as he was growing up, knew that something about himself was amiss: His body was just plain wrong! This sense of wrongness pervaded him and eventually sank him into a deep depression.

One fateful day, deciding to end it all, Chris wound up being caught in a freakish accident in which he was killed - only he didn't die!

Finding himself alive was the first thing he was surprised at. Finding his lifelong prayers answered, through some sort of swapping of bodies during death with another person - a girl equally as depressed as himself, and in a similar situation as he - except she had always desired to physically be a man, was simply amazing!

Chris, now Christina, pursues living life to it's fullest, but once again realizes something missing from her life. Will she find her answer?

Just what will Christina do with her Second Chance?

---

Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

---

 
The Legal Stuff: Second Chance © 2009, 2010 Tanya Allan
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
Please enjoy.
Tanya
 
 

 
 
 
Chapter 7
 
 
The following week, after Ingrid and Alex dashed in and out again en route to Cambridge, I dragged myself back to London, and to the flat that I had not seen since the accident.

The announcement for our engagement appeared in both the main papers, and I cut out a copy for my scrap book:
 
 

Lieutenant, the Hon. Alistair McLeish and Miss Christina Reynolds The engagement is announced between Alistair Edgar Gregor McLeish, only son of The Earl and the late Countess of Dundas, Perthshire, and Christina Jane, elder daughter of Prof. and Mrs William Reynolds, of Great Missenden, Buckinghamshire.

 
 
Alistair had called me, as promised, just before flying out. He called again once he arrived, and once since.

“Hello you.” He always would greet me.

“Hello yourself,” I replied.

Our conversations went on for ages, and although we waffled about nothing, my heart soared as soon as I heard his voice.

On the last call, he told me his unit was involved in peacekeeping operations as armoured support. He have me details of the communications centre, through which messages for soldiers could be sent. I was on the official list of relatives and next of kin for him, so I felt very pleased.

It was a strange feeling returning to my flat, and a stark reminder to me of everything that had happened to me over the last few weeks.

As soon as I opened the door, I smiled. The place was not what I had expected at all. Gone was the drab masculine décor, with the sound system and large TV. It was light and airy, with pleasant colours and pretty soft furnishings. The bedroom still had my large double bed, but all the covers, sheets and pillows were different. It was a young woman’s flat.

It was my flat.
 
 
I checked the wardrobe, and found some really pretty clothes. The place was tidy, but totally bereft of food. I went to the supermarket on the corner, and did a little shopping. Then after I had put everything away, I decided to walk to the office.

Mr Robbins actually kissed me, and I waved at Karen who was on the phone to a client.

“It is lovely to see you. How are you?” Mr Robbins asked.

“I’m fine. The cast will be coming off in a week, and so I should be able to come back tomorrow. The arm is fine, but I just can’t do any heavy work.”

“Fine. Well, the work is piling up, so we have missed you,” he said.

I saw Steve walk over to the photocopier, and Karen pointed to me, he turned and saw me. He grinned and waved.

“I’ll be in tomorrow, if that’s alright,” I said to my boss.

“Good, that’ll be fine. See you then.”

I left him and went to see Steve.

He looked really well, far more relaxed than the first time. I got no wibbly wobbles, but just felt pleased to see him. He kissed my cheek, and it felt very brotherly.

“Hi Chris. Good to see you. How are things going?” he asked.

“Arm’s nearly there, parents are well, lost my virginity last week, and am engaged to a multi-millionaire peer. Apart from that I’m miserable. How about you?” I said with a grin.

He looked at me, he saw the ring, and held my hand.

“This sounds like a pub lunch job,” he said, smiling.

“When are you free?” I asked.

He looked at his watch.

“Five minutes?”

“Okay.”
 
 
We went over to his desk where I helped him sort his project. He had a presentation to prepare for Friday for a client. Our department put together the computer graphics for various client departments within the industry. Although we were not expected to give presentations, we had to be as conversant with the contents as if we were.

Karen popped her head round the door.

“Hi Chris. When are you coming back?”

“Tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll be staying long,” I said.

“Why, arm bad?”

“No, you don’t understand. I will be handing in my notice soon.”

“No? Why?”

I held up my left hand and let the light catch the large diamonds in the ring.

“Oh my God. No?” she squealed. “When?”

“Last week, in Scotland.”

“Please tell me it isn’t the copper?” she said.

“It isn’t the copper, although, to be fair, he asked first,” I said, and Steve chuckled.

“Oh, go on who is he?”

I took out the photograph that Alistair had given to me.

“Oh my word. He’s a god!” she said.

Steve took the photograph, and smiled.

“Yeah. He’ll do,” he said, and winked.
 
 
The three of us went to the pub over the road, a road that I crossed very carefully.

I told them all about my trip, the parties, and of Mark. Karen had to cut her lunch short, as she had a client calling, so she left Steve and me alone.

“So, how’s Debbie?”

“She’s fine. It is working out really well. I took her home last weekend to meet the folks, and I am going to meet hers next week.”

“Oh, Steve, this is a bit domesticated,” I teased.

“Well, you beat me to it. Tell the truth, how are you?”

“I’m in heaven, Steve. There is no other word for it. We met when Mark was still around, so I was sort of torn. Mark was nice, no, he is nice, but in a different way. Alistair was so suave, so in control, he’s in a totally different league.

“He treated me as a girl dreams she wants to be treated, as she would have been in the 1920s. He kissed my hand, for crying out loud. Anyway, he courted me, there is no other word for it, he simply courted me. He declared his intent, and proceeded to woo me.”

“It worked then?”

I smiled, coyly.

“Oh Chris, you didn’t?

“He proposed tons of times, and I kept putting him off, without actually saying no. I was so attracted to him, but I just needed time to gather my thoughts. I was so swept away, that I no longer knew my own mind. After a week or so, I realised that I was only truly happy when he was with me, and I was so miserable when he was not, the next time he asked, I accepted.”

“You avoided the question,” Steve reminded me.

“On the Monday night, he stayed with us, before shipping out with his regiment. I went to bed with him, because I really wanted to, and because I was going to marry him. I vowed that the only man to make love to me was my husband, and I intend to honour it.”

Steve took a drink from his glass.

“And?”

“It was out of this world. How you could possibly prefer being a man, I do not understand.”

“It’s all to do with the mind set. I get my pleasure from giving it,” he said.

“So do I, but so does he, and we meet in the middle. Oh Steve, I want him back so much.”

He smiled. “When he comes back, think what a welcome you will give him.”

I smiled, and my imagination threatened to overwhelm me.

“So, are you and Debbie going to get married?”

“Maybe. Hell, Chris, I don’t know. I haven’t come to terms with this as quickly as you. There is so much I need to get right in my head first.”

We chatted for ages, and I was able to help him sort out a few things in his head. He was much more content now, and wouldn’t swap back if given the chance. Although never burdened with the powerful feeling that I had, he was grateful to be allowed to exchange an existence into a meaningful life.

“I could never get away from the fact that as much as I was told that society should accept me for what I was, my parents were never able to. I am now acceptable in their eyes, and instead of being ashamed of me, they are proud of me. They always loved me, but now I am someone in whom they can show their love. It hurts me, but they are more concerned with what other people think, rather than the reality of me. I am still the same person, by a weird quirk of fate, or fortune, I have suddenly put right everything that they thought was wrong with me. I think the same way, I eat the same food, and I even lust after the same women. But because I’m male, it’s all different, it’s all right now. It hurts me, Chris.”

I took his hand.

“I know you’re the same person. I loved you before, and I love you now, for the same reasons. That’s why we could never be lovers. What we have is too precious to ruin by becoming lovers,” I said.

He smiled.

“I haven’t been able to express myself to anyone whilst you were away. So don’t think I’m unhappy, I’m not. I just needed to say those things. Actually, I am very happy, despite what I have just said, particularly as I don’t get the curse any more.”

I smiled. “In a way I am sad you aren’t a girl. I’d like you to be a bridesmaid,” I said.

“I could come in drag.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, and we laughed.

“I have to get back to work. You’re back tomorrow, so we can have lunch again then.”

He left and I returned to my flat.

I checked my Emails, to find that Alistair had managed to send me a message. It was romantic drivel, but it made me cry, and I wrote two pages of mush back to him.
 
 
I went back to work the next day, and actually enjoyed it. All my misery as Christian, over-spilled into my attitudes at work. The people were great, and I managed to get back into the swing of things quickly.

I returned to the fracture clinic, where I had more x-rays done of my arm. It was healing nicely, so the cast was removed. I had to attend physiotherapy once a week for a few weeks, and the first thing I did was join a gym. The company had a corporate membership scheme, and I had a complete physical assessment done by Mandy, one of the trainers, and she worked out a good training regime for me to get fit.

I started getting up at five each morning, going for a run, and then a shower and off to work. Then, in the lunch break, Steve and I would swim, or go to the fitness room for half an hour and then a light lunch. In the evenings, I really went for a hard work out, and soon my arm was back to normal. I concentrated on building stamina, and then toning up my whole body. I wasn’t a slob, but I found that I was very unfit.

I spoke to Alistair at least once a week, and we emailed each other constantly. After a couple of months, one morning in late November, I got the email I was dreading.
 
 

Hello you. Bad news, Aunt Eileen just called, my father died last night. He slipped away in his sleep, when the nurse checked him at 2 am he was fine, but by 6, he had gone. I am flying home tomorrow, will be arriving at RAF Brize Norton at 1100 (GMT). Is there any chance you would be able to get away and be with me as I sort things out? I need you now, more than you will ever know. My car is stored on the base, so I can pick you up anywhere you like, except London, I hate London. It is full of mad people in cars who want to kill everyone else. You should know... I have just spent some time with my colonel, and he has given me as much leave as I need. Bit of a bugger really, as I have just been promoted to Captain. I will try to call you on your mobile this evening, about 8 — 10pm. So, no night clubbing tonight. Bye A XXX

 
 
I went to work and told Mr Robbins what had happened. He was great about it, so while I was at it, I gave in my notice.

“It’s not fair of me to keep taking time off. I need to rethink my life in any case, and as long as I know I can come back in the future, then I will feel happier this way,” I told him.

I think it was a relief to him, as unbeknown to the rest of us, he was under pressure to downsize the department, and just before Christmas too. By going voluntarily, I took the pressure from him having to make anyone redundant. Now he might be able to get by not having to.

I cleared my desk and left a note on Steve’s desk, as he was out with a client. I left the office without a backward glance, I had moved on.

I returned to my flat that evening, feeling a weight was taken off my shoulders. I spent a really hard hour in the gym, and relaxed in the sauna. While I was in there a guy I had seen about came in, and sat very close to me. I had become aware that he used to sort of lurk close to me when I was using the fitness machines, and would occasionally try to engage me in conversation. I wasn’t good at chatting when I was working out, so I had tended to ignore him.

“Hi. I’ve seen you work out. You’re pretty fit,” he said.

He was about twenty-eight or so, with a receding hair line, and was a little on the flabby side, but was awfully well spoken. The ‘old-Etonian’ alarm bells rang.

“Thanks, it keeps me out of trouble,” I said, making my voice as aristocratic as I could, and slid away a few inches up the bench.

“I’m Guy, Guy Hamilton. I’m a broker,” he said, as if it was some secret password.

“I’m Christina Reynolds. I was in advertising.”

“Was eh, got the old heave ho, eh what?” he said with a revolting snort of a laugh.

“No actually. My fiancé’s father has just died, so as he is now the Earl, I gave my notice,” I said, as casually as I could.

He stared at me, as if to gauge whether I was teasing him.

“The Earl?” he repeated.

“My fiancé is Alistair McLeish, Earl of Dundas. He is a Captain in the RSDGs. I must go, as he is phoning from Bosnia in about half an hour,” I said, and left him gaping after me.

It was ten to eight when I arrived back at the flat and made sure my mobile was charged up. I felt lazy, so I stuck a frozen pizza into the oven, and sat in front of the telly, with my mobile handy.

By nine, I had eaten and was becoming anxious. He still hadn’t called. By ten I was positively homicidal. Finally, at ten past ten my phone rang, and it was him.

“Hello you. Sorry I’m a bit late, we got caught up.”

“It’s okay, as long as you don’t mind a girl with no nails,” I said, and he laughed.

“It’s lovely to hear your voice. Are you okay for tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ve explained my change in circumstances to my boss, and told him that I need some space, so they’ve let me go. He told me that if ever I want my job back, just to call.”

“There was no need for anything that drastic,” he said.

“I know, but I just needed the excuse. It’s not for me any more. How are you?”

“Fine at the moment. I haven’t had much time to think about it.”

“Well, don’t start thinking yet, wait until you pick me up, then I’ll be there for you,” I said, and he laughed shortly.

“Where will you be?”

“Wherever you want me.”

“Can you get to your parent’s place? I can find that, and then we can head north after lunch.”

“Of course. Oh, Alistair, I am so sorry!”

“Don’t be, it was due, it comes to all of us eventually. We all knew he wouldn’t be long, didn’t we?”

“Anyway, congratulations on your promotion. I am excited for you.”

“Thanks, it will make the last year a good one.”

“Only a year?”

“I think so. Hell Chris, I haven’t a clue what to do now.”

“Whatever you do, I’ll be with you,” I said.

“I know, and it makes all the difference. You have no idea how much I love you.”

“Oh, don’t I?”

“I so want to hold you again.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, and I am so excited, even if it is for a sad reason.”

“Look, I have to go. I hope to be with you by noon. I’ll ring if I get delayed.”

“All right, don’t drive too fast.”

“I love you, Christina.”

“Me too.”

“Bye, my love.”

“Bye.”

I sat on the sofa, just feeling warm and fuzzy, as I always did after talking to him. I was going to see him tomorrow. I was so excited.

I rang my mother and told her what was happening. She was great, and said she would make lunch for us before we set off up to Scotland.
 
 
I hardly slept, so was up by seven. I was so eager to see him again. I packed, and realised that I was going to have to go to a funeral. I dashed out and spent too much on several outfits, one was a very chic black dress. It was warm as well as being stylish, and I bought a black jacket to go with it. On my way back I saw a black felt hat, with a wide brim, that resembled the hats that Clint Eastwood wore in his westerns. With my ash blonde hair, it was the business.

I loaded up my little Fiat and drove home. It was raining hard, so it was slow going until I got out of London. I had the radio on and sang along with all the songs. I got home at eleven thirty, and unpacked my car. Dad was at work, and I found Mama in the kitchen. She was making a lasagne, and was just putting it in the oven as I walked in.

“Ah, Chris. I was wondering where you’d got to.”

“It’s chucking down, traffic was terrible in London, and there was an accident near Northolt on the Western Avenue. I should have got here ages ago,” I said.

She gave me a hug, and looked at me.

“My, you are looking well. Have you lost weight?”

I grinned.

“A little, but I’m a lot fitter. I’ve joined a gym, and have been working out every day,” I said.

“You look very good. All the puppy fat has gone.”

“Puppy fat?” I asked.

“You know what I mean. You used to look comfortable, now you look sleek. Like a leopard.”

I smiled, she had such a wonderful way with words.
 
 
We sat and chatted over a coffee for a while, and then I heard the sound of a car on gravel. With a racing heart I dashed out to see Alistair getting out of his Porsche. He hadn’t even changed, and was still in his camouflage combats and boots. In no time, I was in his arms, and he was hugging me for all he was worth. We were both crying with joy.

With my head on his chest, I smelled him, drawing his scent deep in my soul. He was back, and I was whole again.

“God, Chris, it’s so good to hold you again! This moment has kept me going through everything,” he said.

“Mmmm,” I said, just happy to be held.

“Come on, we’re getting wet, let’s go in,” he said.

I didn’t care, as it was sunny in my soul. But I let him hold me and walk me back inside.

He let go of me to kiss Mama, and he gave her a huge bunch of flowers. I hadn’t even seen them.

“No flowers for me then?” I teased, as Mama went to find a vase.

“Your present comes later,” he said with a cheeky grin. I could hardly wait, I wanted him so much.

Lunch was over in a blink of an eye, and I was hugging my mother as Alistair placed my cases in his car.

“You drive Chris, I want to sleep. I had you put on my insurance this morning,” he said, and I gasped. He trusted me to drive his baby?

I waved goodbye to my mother, drove carefully out of the drive, and away up the road towards the motorway.

Alistair sat and looked at me.

“You’ve changed,” he said.

“Oh?”

“You are more beautiful than ever. You look, I don’t know, just different.”

“I’ve been getting fit, and I lost my cast,” I said, waving my left arm in the air.

He caught it and kissed it.

“I love you so much. Every day I longed to hold you, to touch you, and to make love to you. The guys say I’m love sick, and I am.”

“Still?”

“More than ever.”

We joined the M40, and I accelerated up the outside lane, enjoying the power under my feet.

“I’m going to have to sell this.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Where will the baby seats go?”

“In the back of my Range Rover,” I teased, and he nodded.

“Okay. If that is what you want.”

“Alistair, I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

He smiled and reclined his seat. He was asleep in seconds, with a contented smile on his face.

I turned on the radio and, keeping the volume low, just drove, happy to have him back. I noticed that the fuel was getting low, so I pulled off into Carlisle Services.

I filled up the car, and leaving him asleep, I went to the loo. I bought some water and some chocolates and returned to the car. He was still asleep.
 
 
I rejoined the main road and kept going north. I was feeling a little weary, but obviously not as weary as he was. We crossed the border into Scotland, so I just kept driving up the M74.

The Porsche was a dream to drive, and I had to watch the speed, as it was very easy to creep up to over 100mph.

It was with some relief that I pulled in through the gates of Dundas House and up the long drive. It was dark now and I was quite tired myself.

“Hey, Sleepyhead, wake up,” I said, and he opened an eye.

“Is it my turn?” he asked, stretching. Then he saw the house come into view. He sat up with shock and surprise.

“Bloody hell. Chris, I never meant for you to drive all the way! You should have woken me up.”

“Why? You were very tired,” I asked, pulling up outside the large front entrance.

“Go straight to Eileen’s, as she’s giving us supper,” he said, so I set off again. A few minutes later I parked outside Eileen’s home, and switched off the engine.

I got out of the car and, despite the driving rain, I had to stretch off as my muscles were aching. He got out and stretched as well. We looked so silly we both burst out laughing.

“Where are we staying, here or in your cottage?” I asked.

“Oh, the cottage. But unless you have brought any food, we would go to bed hungry I’m afraid.”

“I’d be just happy going to bed,” I said, and he smiled.

“Don’t tempt me, my love,” he replied.

We ran to the front door and went in.

Eileen came and met us in the hall.

“Oh Alistair, darling. I am so sorry,” she said, giving him a big hug.

“Och, Auntie, we may not have been close, but I wish we had been,” he said.

She smiled.

“Edgar was only close to Edgar. The only person he ever loved was Mary. But in his funny way he loved you very much,” she said.

“Very funny,” Alistair said, rather bitterly.

Eileen noticed me, and came and gave me hug.

“Oh Christina darling, how wonderful of you to be here for this horrid time,” she said.

“He needs me,” I said, and she smiled.

“You are so right,” she said, leading us into the sitting room, where we fought the Labradors to get close to the open log fire. Alistair poured himself a whisky and topped up his aunt’s glass. I smiled, as this was obviously a family tradition.

“What can I get you, Chris?” he asked.

“G and T?”

“Ice and lemon?”

“Please.”

“How was your journey?” she asked, as Alistair made the drink.

“I have no idea. I slept for seven hours. Chris drove the whole way and never woke me up.”

“It was alright. I could have done without the driving rain, and with the headlights it was quite tiring. But his snores kept me awake,” I said, to which they both chuckled. He handed me my drink, I took a sip, finding he had made it very strong.

“She’s a bloody wonder. I was really tired, hadn’t slept at all for twenty-four hours or longer. I feel better now,” he said.

“Well, I have just done a casserole for supper, I didn’t know when you were arriving,” Eileen said.

“That sounds super, Christina’s mum fed us well for lunch, so we’ve been spoiled today.”

“Well let’s eat, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” she said, and we went into her small dining room. All her furniture was antique, and she had some lovely hunting prints on the dining room wall. The table sat six, but looked as if it would extend to seat ten or twelve.

She brought some baked potatoes and a casserole out, and dished up. Before I could react, Alistair poured me a glass of red wine. I had hardly touched my gin. I drained the gin, but realised that it wouldn’t take much to get me sozzled.

“Anna called me at about seven, yesterday morning. I went over to the house, and the doctor was already there. It was wholly expected, and had been for weeks. The only real surprise was that the obstinate old bugger had hung on for so long.

“Anyway, the doctor was able to issue a death certificate, and then the undertakers whisked him away. The office has been fielding calls all day, most of them about you. I might say,” Eileen said.

“Me?” asked Alistair.

“Oh yes, and your bride. Apparently, a picture appeared of you two at the Angus Ball, and Hello Magazine has been constantly trying to contact you. As has Harpers and Queen, and Country Life. The funny thing is that hardly anyone is interested in Edgar’s death, your engagement is far more newsworthy. Oh, I tell a lie, some financial journal wanted to know who is taking over the old man’s business empire.”

“What picture?” I asked.

She smiled, went to the side board and produced a copy of the Dundee Courier and Advertiser.

There was a large photograph of Alistair and I enjoying a moment together at the Ball. We were standing close together and luckily my left side was out of shot. I had my right hand firmly held by his right hand, and we were looking into each other’s eyes. He was laughing and I was smiling him. He looked very handsome and dashing in his mess dress. I was pleased that my dress looked really elegant.

“You really make a lovely couple,” Eileen said.

There were six photographs on the page, under the general caption of:
 
 

Revellers at the ball make it another roaring success.

 
 
“When’s the funeral?” Alistair asked.

“That is up to you, you’re the Earl now.”

“Fuck!” he said.

“Alistair!”

“Sorry Auntie. But I had sort of forgotten. I suppose it had better be early next week. Has it gone in the paper yet?”

“No, that’s your job as well.”

Alistair nodded. He looked suddenly very serious and glanced at me.

“I never asked for all this,” he said, almost apologetically.

I took his hand.

“I know, but I’m here for you.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I don’t think I’d like to go through this alone.”

“You don’t have to,” I said.

We finished supper, by which time I felt more than a bit tiddly. Not being a drinker, the gin and wine had been more than I usually drank in a week.

After I helped wash up, we sat in the cosy sitting room, while Eileen and Alistair reminisced about the dead Earl’s life.

I sat and listened, learning a little more about the man I would never really know. However, the heat, the journey and the wine got the better of me, and I must have dropped off.

I woke as Alistair gently shook me, and we said goodnight to his Aunt. He drove the short distance to his cottage, which was all in darkness. We unloaded the car, taking the cases into the main bedroom, which was freezing. He lit the boiler, so we changed into night clothes very quickly and snuggled together under the huge duvet.

For months I had imagined our first night as a night of unbridled passion, where we would make love all night. Instead, we cuddled up to each other and went straight to sleep.

It was still raining when I awoke with a full bladder. It was getting light, so I guessed it was about seven or so. The cottage’s heating had come on, so it was warmer than the previous evening, so I went to the loo.

I was slipping back into bed when Alistair woke up.

“Hello you,” he said.

I snuggled up to him.

“Hello you too,” I said, and he kissed me.

“You’re all scratchy,” I said.

“Mmm, I want a pee too.”

He rolled out of bed, so I dozed for a while. When he came back, he kissed me again. He had shaved. I smiled and we cuddled for a while. It was so lovely to be held by him again that I never wanted this moment to end. As I caressed him, he became aroused, and as I sensed that, I became aroused, and before I knew what was happening, we were making love.

He was very tender again, and it was as good as the last time, if not better. The time we had been apart was now forgotten, as we both became one once more.

We climaxed together and lay entwined for a while. He removed his condom, and once more I wished he hadn’t used one.

“I suppose I shall have to go on the pill,” I said.

“Don’t if you don’t want to.”

“I want to feel you inside me without that bloody rubber thing. But I want your children even more,” I admitted.

“I’m glad, but not yet. We must wait until we get married, and I’ve left the army. I don’t want you to struggle with kids alone. My mother did, but my wife will not.”

I kissed him and reached for him, so we made love again.
 
 
He had to go to the estate office, as the family solicitor was coming to discuss the will and funeral arrangements at ten. I took the Porsche into Perth and did some shopping. I went round Tescos, feeling very domesticated and almost wifely. I kept seeing young women with push chairs, feeling an ache in my belly. I was getting broody. I was also very aware of my appearance and my accent. Everyone in the shops was very polite but rather distant. They treated me with more respect than anyone in London, it was as if I was automatically categorised into the ‘rich landowner’ class. It was beginning to get to me when I suddenly saw Sheila doing her shopping.

“Sheila!” I almost yelled. She looked up, smiling when she recognised me.

I pushed my way over to her, relieved to see someone I knew. We hugged and kissed.

“Christina, what on earth are you doing up here?” she asked.

“Alistair’s father died the day before yesterday. He flew back from Bosnia yesterday morning, and we drove up after lunch. I have to get some food in, as his larder is completely bare. How are you and the family?”

“We’re all fine, thanks. I heard from Alex yesterday, he and Ingrid are still very much in love. Have you heard from her at all?”

“No. Mama has, she phones her at least twice a week to remind her to change her underwear. I remember that very well when I was at Cambridge.”

“How is Alistair?”

“He’s okay. I think he’s feeling a real mix of emotions. The old man was rather unpleasant to him, so it’s not easy for him. He’s arranging the funeral and getting all the legal bits and pieces sorted. I was quite happy to escape from that.”

“Are you still working for the advertising company?”

“No, I’ve just left. I think my life is about to get rather complicated. We’re planning to get married in June, so there is quite a lot to do, particularly as Alistair won’t even be in the UK for most of the time up until just before.”
 
 
We pushed round the supermarket together, so I was really pleased to have one friend to talk to.

We had a coffee together, when she made me promise to bring Alistair over for dinner one evening. I told her that I would sort him out and give her a ring. I already had her number in my mobile.

I got back to the cottage at about noon, so gave it a clean, putting away the shopping. I drove up to the big house to find Alistair in the office with a fifty year-old man in a dark suit.

Alistair smiled and waved me in.

“John, this is Christina, my Countess,” he said. “Sweetie, this is John Wedderburn, the family lawyer.”

The solicitor shook my hand, and Alistair invited me to stay.

“Christina is more than my fiancée, she’s my soul mate. Nothing we say is a secret for her, as we don’t have secrets,” Alistair said.
 
 
They discussed business matters for a while. Secrets or not, it was really boring. However, it dawned on me that we would never ever want for anything. As they discussed the will, it became apparent that Alistair was to inherit almost everything. Eileen was given lifetime tenure of her farmhouse, and a very modest income. Her children each received  £500,000, and a couple of other named individuals received small legacies.

My husband to be was a very wealthy young man. His father had transferred all his business capital and companies into Alistair’s name several years ago, The house and estate was his by right, and the wily old man had taken every step possible to avoid the crippling death duties and inheritance tax.

“It’ll take a few weeks, or even months to sort out much of the personal capital and investments, but the business side of things have been tied up nicely. What you need to decide is whether you want to retain the executive status, or whether you want the various boards to continue the management of each company or group of companies.”

“For the moment, the boards know a hell of a lot more than me. Nevertheless, I need to know what is going on.”

John nodded.

“It will be expected that you will attend the various board meetings. Now that your father has died, they’ll all hold special meetings. I think they are a wee bit worried that you will be just like your old man, and try and run them the same way as he did.”

I smiled, meeting Alistair’s eyes.

“I am not my father. I have an altogether different agenda,” he said.

“That’ll be good. What about the estate?”

“We have a good estate manager in John Cruikshank, so he can keep things going until I leave the army, and then we will see. Christina and I have a steep learning curve ahead of us,” he said, taking my hand.
 
 
Once they agreed on a date for the funeral, and all the paperwork and notifications were completed, we experienced rather an anti-climax. It was Friday and the funeral was set for the following Friday afternoon. The theory being that people didn’t have to ruin a perfectly good weekend for a funeral, so neither did they have to lose anything other than the last afternoon of the working week.

Alistair and I went to the local church and spoke to the vicar. His father had never been a great one for church, so Alistair told the vicar not to pull punches.

“My father worshiped the great god of materialism. So none of your usual prattle about him being a good man going to a better place, for unless he had a deathbed experience, that old so-and-so went straight to hell,” he said.

“That’s a bit harsh,” the vicar replied.

“Did you ever see my father in here?”

“No, I have to confess that I don’t think I did.”

“No, then all I ask is for you to tell it how it is. There is one way to the Father, and he never found it.”

“You don’t know that for sure, Alistair,” I said.

He looked at me.

“Christina, you’re right. Not for absolutely sure. But I would gamble all my wealth, the estate and the title on the fact that he didn’t.”

“I don’t gamble, but I just hope and pray that your sad father met with his God just before he died.”

He looked at me and smiled.

“Then there is always hope,” he said, and the vicar smiled too.

“I would rather give hope rather than a message of gloom and despondency,” the vicar said.

“I’d like my father to be an example of the dangers of greed and selfishness,” Alistair said.
 
 
We had some discussion, and it was plain that Alistair was still felt very bitter towards his father. I had no knowledge upon which to form an opinion, but voiced the only opinion I had.

“Alistair, we never knew what happened on his death bed. So, one can only speak of that which we know, and of what we can hope and pray for. If it helps, look at the message at the funeral for those who are still here, it’s too late for your father as he has died, so which ever way he has gone is a matter between him and his God,” I said.

Both men stared at me, and the vicar smiled.

“Perfect. I will make my message along those lines. So, my Lord, if you approve, I shall not pull my punches, but then I shall not deliberately set out to offend or shock. You said it yourself, there is but one way to the Father.”

I registered that he called Alistair, ‘My Lord’. I had a quick touch of the seconds, did I really want to throw myself into this aristocratic maelstrom?

I looked at Alistair, who was looking worried, and as he glanced at me, I smiled, and his face changed completely. He softened, and seemed to take strength from my smile.

Of course I wanted to...
 
 

 
 

*          *          *
 
End of Part 3
 
 
To Be Continued...