The Ambassador’s Wife.
by
Angharad.
I have never been in a car that was driven so fast, the embassy’s Jaguar hit the street and Richie, that’s Corporal Richard Bassenger screamed out of the compound at goodness knows what speed and hammered away from the building. Bullets were flying all around us but thankfully they didn’t hit the car. We charged along until we finally escaped the town or should that be city? It’s a place called Amdara which probably means something like beautiful oasis or promised land, but it’s a shithole full of angry Arabs waving guns and RPGs at us, that’s rocket propelled grenades and every other flipping Amdari seems to have one. I have an SA80 in my lap along with my handbag.
Richie eased up on the speed as we drove towards the Jordanian border. “Phew, I think we just about made it,” he said, “You okay?”
“Apart from my bra rubbing, you mean?” I said back and it was true the bra was rubbing me, but it wasn’t mine, well not until an hour ago. It’s a bit of a long story, but effectively, we were part of a detachment of military police based in the Amdari embassy, as bodyguards to the Ambassador, his wife and the other staff there. Amdara has a long association with the Brits since the carve up of the Middle East between the Brits and the Frogs after World War I. It’s said the people love Florence, yeah Florence of Arabia—him in the white dress. I’ve seen the film, bit of a poof by all accounts, says me, wearing a dress—doh.
Okay, so the ambassador has to attend a meeting in Jordan with the Prime Minister or some bigwig and the day after he leaves by helicopter, all hell breaks loose. Apparently, the Amdari have been stirred up by some local sheik who reckons the ambassador’s wife disrespected him. She says he was drunk and came onto her and she told him to piss off or she’d smack him in the goolies with his Q’ran. Next thing, World War bloody three starts and they attack the embassy, with six of us there to hold off about sixty loonies with all sorts of firepower, including the previously mentioned RPGs.
Since the attacks on the RMP in Iraq when six of them were killed before reinforcements could get to them, we’ve been carrying more than peashooters—actually Heckler and Koch sidearms, even I have to carry one when on duty.
Why do I say, even I? Well, I shouldn’t be in a combat zone—not that until about three hours ago we knew we were in one—but I’m a boy soldier, only sixteen and out here at my own request to see what the RMP actually do apart from arresting drunken squaddies. My CO arranged it and here I am shitting bricks and wearing a dress.
Okay, so it’s not my usual wear and I’m not a trannie or whatever those wierdos who wear dresses are called, but here I am bewigged, wearing makeup and a dress. So what happened?
Lieutenant Smith, him with the sticky-out ears, Plug they call him behind his back, decided that the person they were after was Rosie Templeton-Barre, aka the ambassador’s missus, so if we provided a decoy, the Andari might be distracted and chase the decoy enabling the defenders to hold out until help arrives.
Well with six great lumps of redcap and me to choose from, I suppose it was no contest. Mind you I insisted that if we got caught, I wanted it written somewhere that I’m not a crossdresser or whatever and I’m doing this for Queen and Country or whatever, or Rosie, who is drop dead gorgeous and who flirts with us mercilessly and we love it. She’s a lot younger than him, about thirty, I’d say and absolutely beautiful. If she’s swimming in the pool or sun bathing in her bikini, the queue for the staff toilet is—you know what I mean and we’re not beating the retreat neither.
Anyway, Lt Plug, yeah look it up in the Beano, the Bash Street Kids, decided that I was the best one to wear the dress. I agreed, expecting it to be over my uniform and for as long as it takes to drive out of the city or we got caught. But no, the gorgeous Rosie decided it wouldn’t fit over my fatigues and that I needed to wear a bra and padding as well.
Once I’d agreed to do it, I had no say in it. I did keep querying it with Rosie but she told me to hush and tarted me up in a sundress with bra and panties and two balloons half filled with water to give me tits. I couldn’t believe that the dress would fit, I know I’m only sixteen and a bit on the small size, but it fitted almost like it was made for me—’cept for the boobs bit. Oh well if we get thirsty, we have a secondary supply of water and it was the bottle variety, straight from the fridge.
Shoes were some loafer things with a two inch heel, I asked her for some flats and that was what she gave me—and they fitted too. Richie was wetting himself, keeping a lookout on the back of the building from her bedroom window.
When she started on the makeup, I nearly wet meself, I mean, I’m not that butch—haven’t started shaving yet and she’s slapping eyeliner and lipstick on me—mind you feeling her hands on me face was nice, though I thought she’d take my eye out with the mascara thing. I mean—who was going to see me? But Plug agreed with her. Then came the wig, a long blonde thing which she glued onto my hairline—this is how those dancers in musicals keep the things on, they glue ’em with special glue stuff.
Next came one of her watches, a necklace and a bracelet with some screw on dangly earrings—like why? Apparently, because she’s always well dressed, doesn’t want to let the ambassador down or something. Next she’s shoving all this stuff in a handbag and holding it out for me. I took it and she insisted I hold it like a girl not a bloke—why? Because they’d spot me for a fake if I didn’t.
For the next hour I was drilled in how to walk and gesture like she did, Plug watched to make sure I did, and then it was grab a couple of litres of water each, my sun hat—jeez—stick my gun in the car ready and be seen getting into the car as we escaped. She even gave me a lesson on that, bum first then legs so you don’t show your knickers. Like it matters.
Like I said, somehow we got away and in four hours had made the Jordanian border. That’s when the next bit of fun occurred. Richie told me to pretend I was Rosie, well how was I to know her passport was in her bag and mine was back in my room at the embassy. I even had to freshen my lipstick where it had come off while drinking water.
It was really weird, having to speak to the guards at the border and pretend to be an upperclass British woman. The delay was that some of them were possibly supporters of the shithead sheik so I was interrogated by an officer who spoke better English than I did.
“Why are you seeking to join your husband, he’s in some top level meetings?”
“The embassy is under attack, Captain, we need reinforcements or the men there will be overrun and killed.”
“Why have we received no word of this attack, you’re not just trying to break into his meetings are you?”
“There are people dying back in Amdari city, you must let me speak to him.”
“I’m not authorised to do that.”
“Please.”
“You’re very beautiful, you know, typical English rose.”
I wondered if he had an eyesight defect especially as some Jordanian women are absolute crackers. Why fancy somebody who isn’t even female?
“Captain, I insist you call your commanding officer and allow me to speak to someone in charge, so we can get reinforcements to the embassy in Amdara.”
He eventually picked up a phone and spoke gibberish into it, well my Arabic is non-existent apart from ibshi and the equivalent of ‘your mother has a face like a camel’s scrotum’. Don’t think I’ll try that here, they might not think it’s funny.
A whole hour later, with the sweat causing my dress to become almost transparent and the knots in the balloons making it look like my nipples were erect, we were eventually seen by some major who also spoke perfect English—course, they’re all wearing Sandhurst tabs aren’t they. It took another half an hour while he decided whether he’d help me or not and somehow they hadn’t twigged. What are they stupid?
So my voice is a bit squeaky and I don’t shave yet, but I mean, can’t they tell the difference between a grunt and an ambassador’s wife. Finally, I got to see my ‘husband’ and told him what was happening. He could tell the difference instantly but kept it quiet when I winked at him—no, not in that way—jeez.
Twenty minutes later we were following three Apache helicopters as they sorted out the problem, with a detachment of the Royal Jordanian Army following close behind in trucks.
We still don’t know how they cut off all electronic ties to the outside world but I now possess an iPhone which no longer works—bloody Arabs—don’t they know how much they cost.
The embassy chopper was allowed to land when it was considered safe. I was still in that bloody dress and shoes with the sun hat and handbag. At least I had managed to keep hold of her passport. It was then we discovered the damage to the compound—the house had taken a direct hit on my bedroom, well the one I shared with Richie. All my clothes went up in smoke along with my IPhone charger, my bed and my collection of um—magazines—I’m a normal hetero bloke, so what.
“Well done, young Collins,” said the ambassador after everything was made safe.”I don’t know whether to shake your hand or kiss you.” Of course that had me blushing and everyone else laughing. “It’s clear that the place isn’t safe for women or children so you’ll be escorting my wife back to Aman, to our embassy there.”
“Can’t I change first, sir?”
“That could be a problem, Collins, all your stuff went up in the fire,” stated Plug.
“Don’t worry, Collins,” said Rosie smiling at me, “I’ve got a lovely dress I no longer wear which will go nicely with those shoes and bag.”
“You heard the lady, Collins—off you go...”
The Ambassador’s Wife – Conclusion.
by
Angharad
I couldn’t believe it, here I was once again in the ambassador’s bedroom being stripped of my clothing by his ravishing wife. Unfortunately, they were her clothes after I’d played her in a decoy to try and draw fire from the embassy in which she was hiding.
“I’ve never seen a young man with so thin a body,” she said assessing me.
“It’s me mum’s fault, all her family are skinny, Ma’am, an’ I s’pose I take after her.”
“Hence you were able to wear my clothes.”
I said nothing, just blushed and looked at the floor.
“Right in the shower with you.” I did as requested, it felt good to be clean again. The desert is such a dusty place and combined with sweat tends to make you even dirtier as the stupid dust sticks to your body. “Wash the wig as if it were your own hair. Use the shampoo and conditioner in the pink bottles.”
My dad was a soldier, a redcap—that’s military police to you, I want to follow in his footsteps. I never really knew him, he was killed in Northern Ireland not long after I was born but Mum told me lots of stories and had loads of photos of him, so I knew about him but didn’t know him, if you catch my drift.
I got tired of school and although we have to do lessons as well as our military training, I quite enjoy it though you have to watch one or two of the instructors who seem to like the pretty boys. I had one or two near misses, being one of the smaller boys and I guess now I can admit, one of the prettier ones, being blond and blue eyed with no whiskers or a deep voice. Still, I think Dad was a late developer according to Gran, so I’ll probably catch up the others in time—I hope so.
I had to shave under my arms and my legs as I listened to the drone of trucks of the Jordanian army arriving to protect the compound while sporadic gunfire showed it wasn’t quite sorted yet. As I rubbed the scented lotion into my legs to stop irritation after shaving, I had to smile. Here I was in the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me in my short career an’ I’m in bloody dresses—can hardly tell them about that back at base.
To my annoyance, she took a needle and pierced my ears and after dabbing them with antiseptic, pushed two ear rings in the holes—well studs more than rings, she discounted my protests telling me they’d heal up eventually. Like how long is eventually?
“I don’t even know your first name Collins, do I?”
“Dunno, Ma’am.”
“What is it?”
“My friends call me Speedy, Ma’am.”
“I didn’t ask you that, did I?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“So what is it?”
I hate my name, trust me to be born on 7th of December and be named after the saint whose day it was. I hesitated.
“Come on, Collin’s, spit it out,” she instructed me. Standing there in a pair of pink satin panties I don’t think I was in much of a position to argue.
“Ambrose, Ma’am.”
“Well we can’t call you Rose as that’s too close to my name, I know, I’ll call you Amber. D’you like your new name, Amber?”
“Not really, Ma’am.”
“Too bad, I think it suits you with the blonde wig.”
She rubbed creams into my face and neck and I must admit I enjoyed that bit, no one had touched my face like that since I was a small kid. Unfortunately it showed in something growing in my panties. She noticed and sent me off to deal with it.
Normally pulling on my pudding while thinking about her didn’t take long at all, and in the three weeks I’d been here, I’d had loads of practice as did most of the guys, but while she was treating me as a girl, it sort of made it awkward. I did it, wiped it and tucked it down between my legs as I’d been instructed where it seemed to shrivel down to nothing.
“Right, I’m going to show you how to do simple makeup.”
“Do we have to, Ma’am?”
“Yes, now just watch and listen, then you can have a go.” Oh boy, she was turning me into a drag queen or something. Don’t think about it, just obey orders. Seems I have a flair for applying eyeliner—whoopee doo—not. Then mascara and she shaped my nearly invisible eyebrows and showed me how to paint on some colour stuff to make them darker—like I need to know.
Next came the bra and some more padding. “We’ll have to get you some better things than these balloons, Amber, won’t we?”
We will? Why? As soon as we get to Amman I’m back to boy’s stuff.
She passed me a dress and helped me put it on then she did things to the wig and suddenly I wasn’t a boy in a dress but a fairly attractive woman. I was gobsmacked to say the least. Misting me in perfume she handed me a case and told me to pack things into it. I assumed it was for her, though she was doing the same as well.
Then after packing two or three cases I donned the watch, necklace and bracelet and was taken down to the Ambassador’s office where His Excellency was in a meeting with Plug and some Jordanian major. She interrupted and introduced me as Amber, her escort. Plug and HE smiled but the major bent over and kissed first Rosie’s hand and then mine. Talk about embarrassed in the embassy, I was blushing so much I nearly caught fire.
“Right get your, passport um—Amber,” smirked Plug.
“It was destroyed, sir.”
“See Mr Marlowe, he’ll sort you out,” instructed the ambassador and Rosie dragged me off to his office.
Marlowe was one of the figures I’d seen about at the embassy but I didn’t know what he did, and it appears he didn’t know what I did either because twenty minutes later he’d taken my photo and issued a passport in the name of Amber Collins, female. I was about to correct him when Rosie grabbed me and dragged me off to get something to eat.
“He made a mistake,” I protested my voice going even higher in pitch.
“Just enjoy it for five minutes, treat it like a game, Amber.”
“But Ma’am, it’s an offence...”
“Only if you set out to deceive.”
“Aren’t we doing just that?”
“Amber, your job is to escort me to Amman and then to stay with me until we know what’s happening.”
“But will you need that in Amman, I mean they’ll have security staff in the embassy, won’t they?”
“I’m not sure where we’ll end up, Amber. Have you used a gun before?”
This was news to me, I assumed off to Amman and then back to Blighty as soon as they could organise flights. Seems I was wrong. “I’ve been taught how to shoot one.”
“Good, here put this in your handbag.” She handed me the H&K handgun. Thankfully my bag was big enough.
“Why aren’t we staying at the embassy?”
“Seems like Sheik Yemudi has influence across the border. We’re going to a safe house.”
“Why can’t I wear men’s clothes?”
“Because we’re sharing a house. I don’t want them to think you’re a boy but I hope if anything happens, you fight like one.”
“I’ll do my best, Ma’am.”
She stroked my face, “I know you will, dear Amber.” She smiled and added, “You’d better call me Rosie, once we get out of here, looks like I’m your new best friend.”
I smiled back, “I think I’ll cope, Ma—Rosie.”
“Good girl,” right let’s go and get something to eat and then off to play hide and seek.
The food was okay, though we had to rush it as our helicopter was being escorted by one of the Jordanian Apaches. So Rosie and I plus several suit cases flew off after a hurried farewell by her to her husband. As we were leaving I saw Richie return with the embassy Jaguar and I hoped my SA 80, or I’d be on a charge for losing it. I wondered if I’d had to shoot someone, could I have pulled the trigger? I hoped I’d never find out but living with it seemed preferable to dying because I couldn’t. What didn’t make any sense was that here I was effectively as a bodyguard in a dress being told to stay in role until this was over. I hope to goodness I don’t get killed wearing it; that would shock my family and my mates something rotten and not do a lot for my reputation.
Somehow we were cleared after landing and a Range Rover collected us. My identity proved a bit of a stumbling block. “Amber Collins? I thought Collins was a boy—oh well, I’ll sort it out,” said the man from the Embassy after Rosie’s expression stopped me protesting. “Right Mrs Templeton-Barre, Miss Collins, we’re going to take you to a safe house until we can arrange a flight out of here. Your contretemps with Sheik Yemudi is making things a little edgy here as well. I hope you understand.”
“The man is a total animal, isn’t he, Amber?” I just nodded hoping my surprised expression wasn’t noticed too much.
We were taken to a villa on the outskirts of Amman, which had its own pool. To minimise the security risk, there were no staff, except one male bodyguard who was armed with a handgun. I decided I would try and keep mine with me at all possible times. He was Jordanian, an ex soldier and I’m sure he was good at his job, he certainly looked the part but I just had this feeling, it could all go tits up very easily and would one man with a handgun stop a group of thugs with Kalashnikovs? I had my doubts—mind you neither would my H&K, but at least I didn’t feel quite so helpless with something to shoot back in my hand. Being in a dress was bad enough, that made me feel very vulnerable, the draught blowing up my bum cheeks proving a constant reminder—though in the heat, the lightness of the dress was easier than my fatigues would have been.
The embassy had created an online account for us, so we could order food and one or two other things for ourselves through them. Rosie spent quite some time on the computer as I fixed us some food—it was fish salad, there wasn’t anything else in the kitchen, though the embassy would organise a delivery the next day. At least there were teabags and fresh milk.
Yussuf, our bodyguard ate with us and I could feel his eyes burning through my dress—he’d have shock wouldn’t he. Seems he had a thing about blondes so being stuck with two of us was a delight for him as he kept telling us.
Although we had air-con in the house, I kept looking longingly at the pool. Rosie swam every day. I couldn’t, I didn’t have cozzie neither did she have one which would hide my deficiencies. However, a week later we had some mail via the embassy including a parcel addressed to me from some place in the States.
“Aren’t you going to open it, Amber?”
“It’s got to be a mistake, I haven’t ordered anything.”
“Perhaps Father Christmas has heard you were being a good girl and decided to come early?”
“Oh yeah and perhaps this is for someone else and got sent to me by mistake?”
“You won’t know until you open it, will you?”
I shrugged and used a kitchen knife to break into the tape securing the box, which was about the size of a shoebox. Inside the contents made my brain boggle. I’d never seen things like it before.
Rosie told me to take the box to my room and she’d be along in a moment. I was still trying to work out quite what one did with the contents. Rosie appeared and locked the door. “I told Yusuf you were having women’s problems and he went off to patrol the courtyard like I had plague.”
“Right young lady, strip off, let’s see if these things were worth the money?” It took about an hour but by the end of that time I was sporting a pair of false breasts which were state of the art. Apparently, they were made for me—to match my skin tone—with some darkening makeup paint should my skin go browner in the sun. Also was a false fanny the article which made me wonder the most. Even with the instructions, it was difficult to attach. It took my pudding and pushed it back between my legs and even had some sort of vagina which could be penetrated for sex—not that that was going to happen. My testes were shoved up back into my abdomen and didn’t that hurt, even though they’re small—but so is the rest of me. Rosie then jacked me off—which nearly blew me away—then she wiped me in a flannel, dried me and shoved me into the plasticky-rubbery device. It wasn’t very comfortable but it made me look quite female especially with the breasts glued in place. With a little bit of waterproof make up to hide the edges, they looked quite real and pulled on the skin of my chest with about a kilo of weight between them.
“They feel quite real, don’t they, Amber?”
Still in post orgasmic state I shrugged, “Dunno, do I?”
“We can soon change that, can’t we?” and with that Rsie peeled of her top and bra and placed my hand on her breast and told me to cop a feel while comparing it to the artificial ones. That was nice until pudding tried to get hard again and hurt with the constraints between my legs. She sniggered at my discomfort pushed me down on the bed and began inserting her fingers into my ‘vagina’. It rubbed the tip of my willie and was both pleasant and painful. Then she started kissing me and encouraging me to touch her breasts and down below and well one thing led to another and we both succumbed to manual stimulation. I found it difficult to consider that I’d had an orgasm without being able to erect, but that’s what happened.
“So what d’you think of girl on girl sex then, Amber?” asked Rosie getting off the bed.
“Nice,” I said wearing a huge smile. I wasn’t sure if that constituted losing my virginity or what, but anytime she fancied it, I’m her girl. Did I just think that?
“This will be our little secret, Amber.”
“Yes,” I said nodding—I mean—who could I tell?
The parcel also contained a bikini and one piece swimsuit, and over the next week I used both, feeling a bit more secure in the swimsuit, especially with Yussuf around. Most of the time, I worked on my being a girl, to minimise being spotted as a fraud, practising my makeup and sun bathing. I went a lovely golden brown colour and found the makeup for the boobs did the same.
Rosie had got me some pills to minimise my discomfort down below which I took realising later what they were, but they did the trick and moving about was a bit more comfortable but my willie seemed flaccid most of the time and my waist seemed to get a bit smaller and my bum felt slightly larger.
We’d been at the house for two months when it happened. A group of thugs followed the embassy van as it delivered our groceries and the next thing, all hell broke loose. Yussuf was shot in the shoulder and the van driver from the embassy people was killed. I was sunbathing in a bikini and fell off the sun lounger as the shooting started, grabbing my gun as I hit the deck.
I found out that I could shoot someone that day. I shot him in the thigh as he chased Rosie out of the house and he fell down as if he’d been hit by a cannonball. I must have hit a blood vessel because there was blood everywhere.
Yussuf staggered through the house and shot the man I’d hit, in the head. I rushed to help him and Rosie dashed inside to get her gun and to call for help. Another attacker climbed over the fence and Yussuf shot him twice, as I tried to improvise a field dressing with a scarf and some cotton wool.
A grenade came flying over wall and I managed to kick it into the pool and throw myself on the ground before this loud crump happened and we were hit by a whoosh of water. Thankfully all that happened was we got wet and the pool was the only victim. It would need a total rebuild.
As the sound of helicopters filled the air two men broke into the courtyard, I was collecting something to make a better dressing for our casualty when I spotted them. They had the drop on Yussuf and I was sure they were going to kill him. I shot each one of them twice as my training taught me. One fell back into the now empty pool the other dropped at the feet of our bodyguard.
“You save my life,” Yussuf shouted just before I threw up. I’d killed two men and my eyes were watering—I was crying and shaking. Rosie grabbed me and held me as sirens seemed to happen from every direction and soldiers were abseiling down from a helicopter—British soldiers, special forces—Christ they were big.
We were taken as we were into an armoured personnel carrier and driven to the embassy, where after a debrief, I was given a robe to wear over my bikini and finally, we were allowed to shower and change into some clothes brought from the house.
On the flight home, in first class, Rosie asked me how I was. I was still upset about killing two people. More upset about that than I was about how I was going to tell my mother why I was wearing nail varnish and makeup.
“The Ambassador has put you up for a medal, you know. You saved Yussuf and me.”
“I don’t think I want it, Rosie. When it came to the crunch, I don’t think it was what I thought it would be—it was horrible—I don’t think I’m cut out to be a soldier.”
“I think all soldiers feel that way the first time they see action, I know John did.”
“He told you that, did he?”
“He was in the Second Gulf War, he was decorated for bravery so he knows what it’s all about. He got wounded saving his sergeant.”
“Wow, a real hero,” I said thinking my own actions had been as much self interest as anything.
“You’re a real heroine, too, Amber.”
“What am I going to tell my mum, about all this?” I pointed to the skirt and top I had on.
“That she’s got a daughter to be proud of.”
“But I’m not, am I?”
“Aren’t you? That’s not what I’ve been seeing this past three months.”
I felt the tears dripping off my face. “I’m so screwed up.”
“You enjoy being a girl, don’t you?”
I nodded causing some more drips to fall off my chin.
“It can be sorted, you know. I have a doctor friend who I think will help you.”
“Really?”
“Really, he’s very good.”
“The army won’t like it will they?”
“I thought they did nowadays and besides they’re awarding a medal to Amber not Ambrose.”
I just looked into her eyes feeling completely gobsmacked, “Really?”
“Really, I saw the citation the ambassador in Jordan signed.”
“But I’m not Amber, am I?”
“I er think you might find you are—unless you really don’t like it.”
“Oh,” I said and she squeezed my leg above the knee, “perhaps I do like it.”
The Ambassador's Wife - Epilogue.
Part 1 of 2.
By
Angharad.
We arrived at Heathrow and during the half an hour or so it took to clear immigration and have our luggage collected - remember I was with a VIP, and ostensibly, although I was on extended leave, I considered I was still protecting Rosie, although in reality, she was probably baby-sitting me.
The FCO (the Foreign and Commonwealth Office) had arranged a car to collect us, so really we got though the system rather quickly and were whisked off to some grandiose building in Whitehall, apparently for a debriefing. I was starving and they did lay on some tea and sandwiches, while I was kept waiting as one of the chinless wonders of the Civil Service interviewed Rosie. After an hour, I was sent for and followed a well dressed lady into a huge office with Persian rugs on the parquet floor.
"Good morning, Miss Collins, I'm Duncan Wallace from the Middle Eastern Bureau, I'd like to talk to you about your recent time in Amdara and Jordan, so anything, however small, might help us protect our people out there and minimise confrontation with the locals, if you get my drift."
I told him that I understood him perfectly. Astonishingly, he didn't ask me what I was doing out there in the first place, glossing over it with, "You were on work experience, I see, quite an unusual assignment," and that was it.
Over the next hour I related my experiences of being a decoy - without actually saying I was a boy cadet, though I'm sure it was mentioned somewhere. I described the escort duties I had with Rosie, that I had been trained in the use of firearms and had the unfortunate experience of actually shooting three of the attackers, two of them fatally. It still troubled me.
"While I understand your reticence, and it was a nasty experience, you coped very well under pressure of possibly being killed or injured and defended Mrs Templeton-Barre and the Jordanian guard who was injured. You also gave first aid to the wounded guard. You are obviously a credit to your age group, gender and the RMP and they are going to be recognising that in the near future.
"We shall organise some counselling for you regarding the violence and will be in touch very soon with details. You have a month off from today while you decide on your future. You may of course return to your unit if you so wish, but we'll wait and see how you feel after seeing your counsellor.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Collins, I'm pleased to have met someone so young but capable of dealing with such a traumatic experience." He offered his hand and I shook it gently, grasping just his fingers as Rosie had taught me.
I was tempted to ask him if he'd seen any action but possibly Rosie would know if I asked her. Back in the waiting room, she gave me a huge hug asking how it went. I burst into tears as the gravity of what had happened re-entered my consciousness. She simply held me until I calmed down and the embarrassed receptionist returned with two more cups of tea which helped to moderate my distress. But then I'm a Brit, we drink tea and carry on - yeah, right. I did have to take some remedial action trotting off to the loo to have a wee and sort out my eye-makeup, which supposedly waterproof, didn't cope too well with tears.
"Right, young lady," Rosie addressed me as I returned looking a bit tidier, "we have to get you home."
"Oh," I said wondering what I would say to my mother.
"Is that going to be a problem?"
"Who knows?" I shrugged.
"Well after you saved my life in Jordan, I'm not going to let you face that on your own. We are going to my house in Hampstead, and washing off the dust then tomorrow, I shall take you home and speak with your mother."
"Does she know, you know, about this?" I pointed to the dress I was wearing.
"I don't think so, as far as I know she was told just that you were safe and had assisted in protecting me during a raid. She also knows you'll be home tomorrow or the next day."
"Oh," I said, "perhaps I'd better call her."
"That might be a very good idea, Amber. I'm sure she'd appreciate it. Just explain we couldn't call from Jordan because of the need for secrecy of our whereabouts."
"Of course, Ma'am," I reverted to a more formal address as we were in a sort of formal situation. She acknowledged it with a smile and a wink.
"I'm sure we could arrange that from here if you want or wait until we get to my house."
"I think that would be better, Ma'am."
"Right, let's go and get the travel dust washed off," she grabbed my arm and we left Whitehall in one of the Diplomatic Corps cars, another Jaguar. With the traffic, we took nearly an hour to get to the outskirts of Hampstead and then headed up towards the common, where I nearly gasped at the size of the house as we drove down the drive. It was huge, compared to our semi in Surrey, not only that but she had staff, a housekeeper and two other women. Boy, how the other half live.
The driver carried our baggage into the house and I was told to leave it for her staff to take up to my room. I suppose it wasn't that heavy now that I didn't need to carry a pistol and box of slugs.
One of the girls, Mollie, showed me to the room I'd be using and that was beautiful, a large window looking onto an even larger garden and a double bed with wardrobe and chest of drawers, plus an en-suite, which I couldn't wait to use. She said she'd get my case up while I showered and to use the robe that was hanging there.
The shower was bliss and I washed my now longish hair and conditioned it. A few months ago, the thought of using floral fragranced shampoos and shower gels, would have worried me, now they were what I used daily. Damn, I hope Mum has some at home, but they won't be as nice as these, I reflected as I washed off the luxuriant lather and got ready to exit the shower. As I towelled, dabbing rather than rubbing my skin, I noticed that my little breasts were growing, realising that Rosie's way of stopping my problem of unwanted erections was to use female hormones and it worked, apart from the booblets, it also made my waist smaller and my bum bigger, so I was actually beginning to develop a female body shape. I wasn't completely sure what I felt about it, but it looked as if it was what my future held at the same time, if it wasn't I had to stop it all very soon. So much to think about, my head was spinning.
I sat down in the chair in the bedroom wearing the white cotton towelling robe. I'd rubbed in the body lotion I found in the bathroom, so smelled even more fragrant than before. As I combed out my blonde hair, which was definitely in a woman's style, I wondered where my future lay and for a moment I felt every bit as scared as I was in the Middle East. What was Mum going to say? What would my dad have said, she'll say that and will she allow me to continue living as a girl? Do I really want to?
At the same time, do I want to go back to living as a boy? Do I want to stay in the army? What do I actually want? I didn't know and before I knew it, I could feel my eyes tearing up and warm drops of salty water were running down my face.
I jumped as there was a sharp tap at my bedroom door and in walked Rosie. "Hey, what's the matter, sweetie?" She wrapped me in a hug and rubbed my back as I now bawled all over her.
"What's the matter?" she asked as I sobbed quietly.
"I am so screwed up," I said sniffing.
"Why?"
"I don't know who I am anymore," I said with occasional punctuation by hiccups.
"Who would you like to be?" Rosie asked me gently, still holding me and rubbing my back or neck.
"I don't know," I sobbed and started the water works again.
"Here, I've brought you some clothes I won't use anymore, you get dressed and I'm going to ask a friend of mine to come over and speak with you."
"I don't know if I could talk to someone I don't know," I said feeling threatened.
"You'll be safe, don't worry. Now dry your eyes, and put on some clothes." She pointed to the mound on the bed which I hadn't noticed before.
I did as she requested, or was it instructed? Looking through the pile of clothes certainly distracted me and I chose a thin satin top which had a scoop neck in a deep pink colour and a short skirt in a very close colour match. The skirt was straight and must have had some lycra in it because it clung to the contours of my hips like it was glued to them. I slipped on some three inch courts in black and went to try and sort out my makeup. My eyes were rather red and sore but a cold flannel helped them a little and I managed to pop some liner and mascara on, along with some pink lipstick and a bit of blusher to try and tone down my red eyes.
"Miss Collins, Mrs Templeton-Barre is asking for you," said Mollie after gently rapping on my door.
"Okay, tell her I'll be right down, Mollie, and thank you." I'd never get used to domestic staff.
"Very well, Miss Collins." I heard her footsteps disappear down the landing. Inside part of me was thinking, 'Miss Collins? my name is Amber for God's sake.' Then I realised that although I was an egalitarian at heart, it wasn't my house so would be inappropriate, and it may be inaccurate as well, but that I had to see about. Had all my records been changed or just my passport and army paybook.
I sprayed on some perfume and grabbed my handbag. At least I wasn't leaving it everywhere now and I actually felt naked without it as very few of my clothes had pockets - perhaps that was good practice for an eventual shroud. I shuddered at that, it wasn't really funny and twice I could have been killed, once when the RPG hit my bedroom at the Amdaran embassy and second in Jordan, when those lunatics attacked us. I think all of them were killed, so what was the point of it? I really didn't understand how some people worked and these were the same guys who'd kill their sister or daughter if she looked at the wrong bloke and call it an honour killing. Where's the honour in murdering a young woman. Gosh, I was turning into a feminist. Actually, I felt quite proud of that.
I knocked and entered the drawing room and Rosie called me to enter. "Come and have some tea, Amber. Amber this is Dr Charles King, I think he may be able to help you feel a bit better."
He stood putting down his cup and saucer and stepped towards me offering his hand. "Hello, Amber, I'm delighted to meet you, Rosie has told me so much about you."
"Oh," I said looking across at her."
"Don't worry, she only told me the clean bits," he said chuckling.
"Oh well that's okay then," I said and shook his hand before accepting the bone china cup and saucer from Rosie.
"I'll leave you to it then, there's more tea in the pot if you want it." We both nodded and she left the room.
"You're a doctor?"
"Yes, I'm a psychiatrist, but don't let that worry you, we all have our crosses to bear." His eyes danced as he spoke and I smiled at his quip. "Rosie says you had a bit of rough time in Jordan?"
"We were attacked by a group of Amdarans with guns, our guard was shot in the shoulder right next to me."
"That was pretty scary."
"Yes and while I was trying to fit a dressing on his wound, some more came in and..."
"And you shot one of them?" he guessed.
"Yes, in the leg, our guard shot him dead. Then they threw a grenade at us."
"Crikey, they were definitely not very friendly, were they?"
"You should see them on a bad day," I said though I didn't feel at all amusing.
"I think I'll pass, if you don't mind."
I nodded and shrugged.
"What happened to the grenade?"
"I kicked it into the pool."
"Quick thinking, young lady."
"If I hadn't, my problems would have been over."
"You don't know that but it would certainly not have improved your rather pretty face."
I blushed and looked at the carpet.
"Was that the end of the action?"
"No, some guys came chasing Rosie and I shot both of them."
He paused and looked at me. "Did you kill them?"
"That was my intention and yes, I shot them twice, like I'd been trained to do. Apparently the second shot shocks them to death."
"And they trained a young woman to kill?"
"It was self defence and if I hadn't we'd all have died."
"I appreciate that, but I'm concerned that you were put in a position of such potential jeopardy at such an early age. I've treated soldiers much older than you, Amber, with post traumatic stress disorder from killing someone. It's an awful thing to experience and to have to deal with. Have they not given you some therapy to cope with it?"
"It's being arranged."
"Okay, unless you feel you want me to help you with it, I'll leave that to the MOD to organise. Now I hear there's another issue, about..."
"Yes, I'm a boy, or used to be."
"Which do you think applies now, am or used to be a boy?"
"You tell me," I gave back to him.
"I can't, Amber, I may be clever but even we trick-cyclists don't know what someone else is thinking, we can only make guesses based on the signs they show us."
"And what signs am I showing you?"
"Only that you're a very pretty young woman, who is dealing with a very nasty experience probably better than I would."
"Really?" I gasped almost wanting to smirk.
"Really," he confirmed.
"Does that mean I'm really a boy?"
"Why should it?"
"Well boys are supposed to be tougher than girls, aren't they?"
"Testosterone tends to make them physically bigger and stronger but doesn't mean they are mentally stronger and women often have more stamina than men; and females will fight to the death to protect their loved ones, so I don't see how any of this makes you a boy."
"Oh."
"Rosie told me that you agreed to pretend to be female to accompany her from the embassy after it came under attack?"
"I was already in her clothes before that, I dressed up as her to act as a decoy to try and draw them away from the embassy."
"Goodness you are a brave kid, aren't you?"
"Not really, I was the only one small enough to fit her clothes and I was shitting myself."
He chuckled, "I think I'd have been doing a bit more than that, young lady."
"Anyway, they blocked our communications so someone had to go and get help, so Richie and I took off in the ambassador's Jag, to try and get to Jordan."
"Which you did?"
"Eventually, though the bloody border guards weren't much help, I had to insist to speak to my 'husband'." I said speaking like I had a plum in my gob.
He roared. "You really are quite a girl, aren't you?"
"Am I?" I said looking at the floor.
"Aren't you?"
I shrugged feeling tears forming in my eyes again but not wanting to cry. "So I have terminal girldom do I?"
He snorted, "I sense you feel happier as a girl, is that correct and don't hesitate to tell me if I'm wrong."
"I don't know, it seems the army seem to think I am and are going to give me some sort of medal"
"Never mind what the army think, what do you think?"
"About what, being a girl or the gong?"
"Forget the gong for a moment, how do you feel about living as a girl, as a woman for the foreseeable future?"
"It's okay, I guess and I seem good at pulling it off."
"Pulling it off sounds like an act or a trick, if that was the case I'd have spotted it. I have not seen anything which causes me to believe you were a boy, even though you may have dressed as one and had male genitalia."
"But surely if I'd wanted to be a girl, I'd have been a bit effeminate or dressed as one when I could, wouldn't I?"
"You might have but not necessarily. It sounds as if that option was never open to you. I hear your dad was a redcap and got killed in Northern Ireland."
"Yes."
"And you wanted to emulate him."
"I never met him."
"Oh I'm sorry. So you were meeting your mother's expectations?"
"I don't know." I looked at the carpet again.
"What does she think about having a heroine for a daughter?"
I shrugged.
"You haven't told her?"
I shook my head and immediately my tears ducts overflowed all down my face.
"Right. So who has been working with you on your change of gender?"
"Rosie," I said shoving tissues under my eyes trying not to mess my makeup again.
"So, I'm the first doctor you've seen?"
"Yes."
"Okay, I need to make some enquiries but I'll take the lead on this until I feel we have someone who can help you. I believe you started on hormones?"
I nodded.
"Without medical supervision that isn't wise, young lady, but I'll leave a prescription with Rosie and I'll arrange a blood test, we'll do that tomorrow, if that's okay. How long are you staying here?"
"I think I'm going home tomorrow."
"Right, okay, you'll have to come up to town to see me, once a week for the moment until we get things properly organised. I'll sort that out with Rosie. Good luck with your mum, young lady, any problems tell her to give me a call."
"Thank you Dr King."
We both stood up and instead of shaking my hand he gave me a hug. "I'll help you sort things out, Amber, don't you worry. Try not to fret too much, I think you look and act so natural as a girl; and accept the medal, those who weren't there need to share in your courage. They need to have role models and you are excellent as that, your down to earth humility is like a breath of fresh air. Now enjoy your evening, I'm led to believe you're going out for dinner, enjoy it and let Rosie help you explain to your mother. She's very persuasive."
He hugged me again and left.
"How d'you feel now?" asked Rosie re entering the room.
"Okay I guess."
"He's nice, isn't he?"
"He was very nice. He thinks I should be a girl, doesn't he?"
"Unless you tell him otherwise, he thinks you're already a girl."
"Oh," her answer caught me on the back foot. I paused for a moment, "So becoming a boy would be like having a sex change?"
Rosie laughed, "That's one way of looking at it." She hugged me.
"Thank you for being my friend, Rosie."
"It's my pleasure and my privilege, now get your coat because we are going to my salon to get our hair sorted and then we're going out for dinner."
"I'm not sure if I want to, Rosie, I feel exhausted."
"C'mon, I'm not taking no for an answer."
"Shouldn't I wear something better than this to a posh restaurant?"
"Don't worry, it's already in the car - so come along, let's go and have fun." She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me from the house to her car.
It was only the second time I'd had my hair done. Boys don't get hair dos, they get haircuts and it was only because I was a cadet that mine wasn't a buzz cut or a flat top, or whatever they call it. In Amman, we'd had a woman hairdresser come to the villa and my boyish hair was restyled into a short girl's cut. It was still a bit short but Maria, at the salon Rosie patronised, managed to do something with it that made me feel more attractive and she also explained how I maintained it and I actually understood her. She gave me a couple of brushes I'd need including one of those with spines all around for turning hair under. I suppose Rosie paid for it like she did my facial and subsequent makeup. They used far more than I usually did but I felt quite glamorous as we left. Rosie had brought with her one of her cocktail dresses for me to borrow. I probably looked a few years older than my age, sixteen and a half, but I felt really smart in her dress and my stiletto heels.
She drove us to a bistro actually in Hampstead village where she must eat regularly because they called her by name without us saying who she was. It felt weird being called, 'madam' by the waiters, not because of my strange status, but because it was something I associated with adult women. Weird or not I enjoyed it. It made me feel grown up.
The food was delicious and despite my earlier meltdown I enjoyed it though was happy they didn't do big portions and my lemon sole was wonderful, if like a sort of expensive plaice. My mum always goes on about lemon sole as her favourite, so maybe we have something in common now, apart from our surname.
"I have to take you to Dr King's clinic tomorrow for your blood test, then we can do an hour round the shops, get your mum some flowers and go and see her."
I stopped in the middle of my mint sorbet and suspect my face showed my discomfort. I'd put it to the back of my mind and she'd stirred it all up again.
"Look, you have to face her sometime, she is your mother and if you were in her position you'd want to see your child wouldn't you?"
"I know," I said putting down my spoon, "but I was enjoying this so much, I suppose I just forgot it for the moment."
"I'm sorry, Amber; look, things will be a bit strange for her in the beginning, but if it doesn't work out, you can come up to me for a week or two."
"Don't you have to go back to the embassy?"
"Neither my husband nor the FCO think that a wise move at present."
"Don't you miss him?" I asked trying to think like a woman friend.
"Oh God yes, he is so good in bed," she said in an exaggerated husky whisper, which made my eyes widen. "Oh, Amber, you look shocked."
I blushed and stammered that I wasn't expecting that much candour.
"Amber, it's how women talk to their close friends and I feel very close to you."
"Is that because we shared the trauma in Amman?" I asked.
"That might be part of it, but also because we've grown close and I think you enjoyed some of the really close stuff, didn't you?"
I blushed like a traffic light, just thinking of her touching me in my pseudo-fanny would have made it very uncomfortable except that since starting the pills nothing happens down there anymore, which may be a bit of a loss but relieved me of a nuisance, not to mention, as a girl it shouldn't be there anyway.
"I've enjoyed being with you a great deal, Rosie, it's like having a big sister."
"Aw that's so sweet, Amber, I suppose that's how I see you really, hence sharing my secrets with you, like sisters do, like sharing my clothes - just as well hubby encourages me to dress young or you'd look like a middle aged woman not a trendy youngster."
"You have amazing taste," I said touching the dress I was wearing.
"Good job you think so, but once you develop your own sense of style, you may think differently."
"I'll never be able to afford clothes like you wear."
"Unless you find a rich husband," she joked, "but you can still look good on a budget if you plan what you want to wear and buy the best you can afford."
"All I get from the army is pocket money and that mostly used to go on my mobile."
"Is that working now?"
"No, those muppets in Amdara messed it up."
"If we have time tomorrow, we'll pop in the shop down from Dr King's place, they may be able to sort it for you. I'm sure you'd feel better having that working again."
I shrugged, since being away from my unit, I lost touch with my colleagues and those in Amdara, like Richie, I'd sent the odd email when I could. As far as I knew, they were all okay but the muppets were still playing up and all leave had been cancelled. Actually we called them worse than muppets, like ragheads, but that may seem racist to some. I expect they called us by a few choice words, not least, infidels.
After the two glasses of wine I drank, I slipped into sleep soon after getting into bed. I'd thanked Rosie for the lovely meal and the salon therapy, which she thought was a good term for it. She really did feel like I imagined an older sister would be once the childhood sibling rivalries had stopped. But I'd never know as I was an only child, with a bit of a possessive mother - would that cause problems tomorrow? I suppose I'd find out soon enough.
The next day seemed to be on fast forward, I'd managed to redo my hair as Maria had showed me and I had got quite good with eyeliner now. I'd been doing my own makeup for some weeks, practising what Rosie had shown me and experimenting on my own. I wore another of her hand-me -downs and after a quick breakfast we got the blood test done and got my mobile sorted at her local phone shop. Apparently something had been triggered in it by the muppets and it went into close down which they had to sort by plugging it into a computer. Anyway, it was working now and suddenly I had dozens of texts to look at.
Rosie bought me a couple of things, a new handbag in a backpack style, it was leather and really nice, so I'd have to be careful I didn't leave it lying about - I have improved in recent weeks and usually feel naked without my handbag. We got a huge bunch of flowers for my mum and after a snack for lunch we set off to deal with meeting her as her daughter. It was a good job I'd only had a small lunch because I felt sick all the way there.
Parking just down the road from my house, Rosie suggested she went in and explained a few things to my mum. I had no better idea so sat in the car and waited, my lunch seriously trying to exit the same way it had gone in. Perhaps the struggle I had with my tummy stopped me thinking about anything else including the time, when a tap on the window nearly made me lose control and spew all over the car. I managed to hold it back just in time.
"Come on, Amber, she's okay about things."
"She is?" I felt amazed.
"She had half worked it out."
"How?"
"You have some post waiting for you addressed to Miss A Collins."
"Yeah but that could be a typo, lots of these things are mass produced by computers anyway."
"There was also one addressed to Miss Amber Collins."
"Well my old name is a bit unusual so easy mistake."
"From the MOD."
"Yeah easy mistake."
"Miss Amber Collins GM."
"Eh?"
"The George Medal."
"Oh." I blushed and my tummy flipped.
"She's an army wife, Ambs, and your unit CO had phoned her after they reported the attack on the embassy, to say you had been evacuated and were safe, also that you had acted with some courage under fire and that they were looking to reward you for it."
"So she doesn't know about the Amman business then?"
"Apparently they told her you were safe and would be flown home soon."
"Yeah?"
"Yes and the report she received was of an attack on two British women and their Jordanian bodyguard."
"Obviously the wrong report then."
"The FCO may have its share of numpties, but they tend not to get those things wrong."
"Why did they have to tell her?"
"God knows, I suppose in case she heard it elsewhere but they told her, her daughter was safe."
"Oh shit."
"I suppose they thought she knew."
"Or the army changed my records and the Foreign Office didn't know about it and assumed I was female, full stop."
"But you are, aren't you?"
"I s'pose so," I blushed and she grabbed my arm and took the flowers from the boot of her car and gave them to me to carry. They were nearly big enough for me to use as camouflage.
I stumbled into my house and then into my mother's arms, we were both in tears and hugged for several minutes while Rosie stood discreetly in the doorway holding the bouquet.
Pausing I dabbed my eyes with a tissue trying not to destroy my eye makeup and she did the same. "You look good as a girl, Amber, isn't it?"
"Yes, Mum."
"Yes, very pretty."
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before."
"You were protecting Mrs Templeton-Barre, weren't you?"
"I don't know who was protecting who, but I had to disguise as a woman to try and keep everything secret and I guess I kind of liked it."
"So is that the end of your career?" she asked.
"I dunno, Mum, I'll have to see."
"If I might butt in here," said Rosie, "the military have protocols for dealing with transgender personnel and anyone who makes insulting or abusive remarks or actions will be dealt with."
"Not like it was in Ron's day," she sighed.
"No, I think they learned that gender dysphoric and gay personnel were too valuable to be lost simply because they were different. The army sort of grew up and now encourages soldiers to act like adults not third formers." Rosie told it like she saw it.
"Oh, well that's okay then," said my mother on the defensive.
We called a truce and had a cup of tea which was when Rosie disabused Mum a bit more that I was some willie-woofter, talking about the two attacks and how I had shown fortitude under extreme danger and had saved both her life and that of our bodyguard who was wounded.
"Wasn't he acting like a man rather than a woman?" asked Mum which seemed like a logical question.
"If a few years ago when Amber was younger," posited Rosie, "and someone had entered the house to harm you and her, wouldn't you have fought tooth and nail to protect her?"
"Of course, I'm her mother," replied Mum not realising she'd used a feminine pronoun.
"Well, Amber was protecting her nest and I'm glad she did because we all nearly died. Yussuf, our bodyguard was badly wounded, so it was a very close-run thing."
"What did they run away from - my son in a dress?"
"No, Amber shot three of them."
"Oh my God, Ron was upset for years after shooting a terrorist in Ulster. You shot three of them?" she said looking at me, I nodded quietly.
"She wasn't in a dress, she was in a bikini."
"What?" I enjoyed watching my mother trying to envision me in a bikini in the first instance and then having a gun secreted somewhere as well.
"They attacked us while we out in the villa garden which had a pool, Amber was relaxing as Yussuf was on duty and he was armed, she was sunbathing when they broke into the compound and Yussuf was wounded. She shot one of the attackers, dealt with a grenade that was thrown at her and shot two further attackers who were trying to kill me."
"My little girl did all that?" said my Mum looking at me. "Shouldn't they have had more protection for you both?"
"We were there in secret, but they followed the embassy van making a delivery, the driver was killed." Rosie added a bit more detail. "Amber's actions in repelling the attack bought time and the cavalry arrived in helicopters with a group of the SAS, who took us into safe custody. Your little girl, is amazing and I can think of no one I'd rather have with me in a tight spot than Amber. I owe her my life."
Mum nodded as a tear ran down her cheek and dripped in her lap. I sat there feeling very strange, almost like I was watching a film except my eyes were getting watery as well.
Rosie left about an hour later after we brought my cases in from the car. After visiting her house, my wardrobe had doubled and she even gave me one of her cases to transport my booty. She really was like a big sister to me.
Mum gave me my mail and there were three letters addressed to Miss A or Miss Amber Collins. They wanted me to attend for a meeting to discuss the award of the George Medal. Apparently, as a cadet on work experience, I wasn't technically a soldier being under age, but I was still on active duty in escorting the ambassador's wife and was armed accordingly. So by offering me a medal which may be awarded to military and civilians, they minimised the criticism that could have arisen from a military one.
I just wondered what the press would make of it, me being a boy in one instance and a girl in the other. Okay, so the army will control its own and while there could be indiscretions from my colleagues wanting to earn a few quid from the tabloids, I hoped they wouldn't sell me down the river. But people who knew me before, from school or just locally, that could be a problem.
I spent an uncomfortable evening with my mother trying to see where she'd gone wrong and I'd turned queer. She couldn't understand it because I'd never been queer before, was it a consequence of the trauma, had I been hit on the head, did I think they'd protect me more if I was in a skirt? In the end I said I was shattered and went up to bed. Instead of my room feeling a sanctuary, like it had been before, it now felt like part of someone I no longer was. If I stayed here, I'd need to redecorate it as a woman's bedroom.
I tossed and turned for ages and suspected my mum did the same. Even with less than five hours sleep I rose, showered and dried my hair then put on my makeup and a pair of jeans and a top. We'd bought the jeans in London yesterday.
My bedroom door was knocked and my mother poked her head round it, "Oh you're dressed already, I wondered if you needed help with your hair or makeup - I er, see you don't. How long have you been doing that yourself?"
"A couple or so months, I learnt while we were in Amman, not much else to do."
"She's a nice woman, Mrs Templeton-Barre."
"Rosie, she's like a big sister to me and I love her to bits."
"You're not having um..." she blushed and stammered.
"Look, Mum, I'm wearing a device which makes it look like I have female sex parts. It is glued on. I'm also taking female hormones, I couldn't have sex with her if I wanted, and sex with my sister - ugh."
"You're all glued up, female hormones? Oh my God. I can't believe it."
I pulled down my jeans and my panties sat on the bed and waved my groin at her. She ran out gibbering. Oh well so now she knows I'm serious.
Breakfast was tense and she avoided eye contact, I suppose I'd upset her, perhaps I was a bit hard with her but she sometimes ignores what you say until you say what she wants to hear. I wasn't playing that game. I ate my toast and drank my tea then called the MOD on the number I got from the letters.
They wanted me to either go to London or to my old unit at the cadet college. I opted for London, I didn't want to create a stir at the college. I called Rosie and asked if I could stay with her when I went to see them and also to see if I could arrange to visit Dr King at the same time. She immediately said I could. I was going in two days time. I went and told my mother.
"You never liked it here, did you?"
"It was all right," I answered trying to sound casual.
"So why did you leave to join the army?"
"I thought you wanted me to, you know like Dad."
"I didn't."
"Oh, well you signed the consent form."
"I thought you wanted me to."
"I suppose I did."
"Did you enjoy your time at the college?"
"It's okay, if I go back, that's where I'll have to go."
"How will you deal with going back as a girl not a boy?"
"It'll be a nine days wonder."
"And with a gallantry award."
"I hadn't actually thought about that yet."
"So you're really serious about becoming a woman?"
"I'm seeing a doctor in London in a couple of days."
"What for the operation?"
"Not yet, Mum, I've got to live in role for at least a year and I'm too young for surgery, they won't do it until I'm eighteen, I think. I suppose I could go to Holland or somewhere." I saw her wince at my comment.
"Well if it's really what you want, I'll support you."
I was absolutely astonished by her offer. "Thanks, Mum, I hoped you would."
"I've already lost my son, if I don't, I'll lose my daughter as well. I don't have much choice, do I?"
Instead of replying I went and hugged her. Then said, "I know this tough for you too, Mum, but I feel it's something I need to do."
"Are you going to stay in the army?"
"I don't know, Mum, but if I sign on for a short service commission, they'll pay for me to go to uni which would save us a load of money."
"If you did that your dad would be proud of you, our daughter, the officer."
The Ambassador's Wife - Epilogue.
Part 2 of 2.
By
Angharad.
I had lots to think about. Did I want to stay in the army or leave and do something different. The idea of having my higher education paid for was attractive if I was actually clever enough to get to uni, but did I want to run the gauntlet of turning up somewhere like AFC Harrogate - Army Foundation College - as a girl when I'd previously been seen as a boy, and with a gong. Both would mark me out as different and they wouldn't allow me to hide the medal because they like to publicise such things to aid recruitment and boost morale, or it does in the minds of the top brass. They may also try and use me to show their diversity policy - be a laugh wouldn't it if they had enough new transgender recruits to form their own regiment.
I didn't know what transgender was until recently when I spent a month or so living as a girl with Rosie, it somehow got under my skin without me realising it until it was time to stop and I didn't want to. Why? I had no idea but life seemed sweeter for some reason and I don't mean perfumes and softer undies. It certainly wasn't about the clothes and makeup and stuff, it was something much more fundamental, something inside me recognised a deep need to express myself as female, which was unknown to me just a few months earlier when I was just a junior grunt like all the others. Now things were different and so was I.
My head was hurting with all this thinking and I still didn't know what I wanted to do or what I thought was best for me. Had I gone too far already? The confusion of my identity - did the army see me as male or female? The letters concerning the medal were addressed to me as female, so had they forgotten about my previous identity or had they changed it since my replacement passport was issued at the embassy in Amdara?
I was still in a total confusion about everything when I went back up to London and after dropping my bag off at Rosie's, she came with me to the interview with the army at some building not far away from Whitehall. I showed the letter and was asked to wait in a small room with a few stacking chairs and a coffee table on top of which were some brochures about joining the army and the various trades they could teach you - like shooting people.
"Amber Collins," was called by a shortish woman wearing a blue and grey striped suit and grey high heels. I followed her through a door with Rosie following behind. I was glad she was with me because she was used to dealing with these people and brooked no nonsense. They might browbeat me, but she'd give it back to them with interest.
I felt my skirt rubbing on my legs, I wore a dark pink outfit of skirt and top, my topcoat I had folded over my arm and my black leather bag and shoes matched each other. I wore a two inch heel as I wasn't sure how much walking I'd have to do. So far they felt quite comfortable.
We were led into a large office where a middle-aged man was seated behind a huge desk, at the side of which was sitting a younger woman in a captain's uniform. She stood up as we entered, eventually so did the man. I stopped standing at attention and saluted her, she smiled and told me, "At ease, Cadet Collins, you're on leave aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"So let's keep it informal, shall we?"
"Fine by me, ma'am." Which was true.
"This is Sir William Walker, Army Liaison Office," said the captain introducing us, he nodded to both of us, "I'm Captain Judith Beech of the admin team for the junior soldiers and cadets."
"I'm Rosemary Templeton-Barr and I'm here to support Amber as a friend cum in loco parentis as her mother asked me to represent her."
They nodded in recognition and invited us to sit in front of the desk in comfortable upright chairs, presumably so they could keep the initiative - but then they didn't know Rosie.
Walker opened the proceedings, "We appear to have two issues, one regarding Amber's future in or out of the army and awarding the medal, which is quite an unusual event in someone so young."
"Jack Cornwall got a VC at age sixteen," I offered demonstrating I had learned something at Harrogate.
"That was during the Battle of Jutland in the First World War," added Walker, "things were a little different then and boys went to sea onboard warships."
"Only insofar as we were officially at war with another country so violence can be expected, however, violence and aggression can be just as deadly during supposed peaceful times, Mr Walker. The bullets and grenades they used against us were as lethal as any used in war." Rosie wasn't going to let anything past her.
"Of course, Lady Templeton-Barr, you were in Jordan with Amber, weren't you?"
"I was in Amdara with Amber when she acted as a decoy to try and draw the fire of the insurgents and then managed to get to Jordan to get help to rescue the embassy. I was also in Amman when we were attacked at the villa we were using as a safe house, where Amber showed tremendous courage in protecting both me and our Jordanian guard who was wounded."
"Yes, I've seen the report of the incident and Miss Collin's courageous actions and while in awe of them, I'd like to move us on to the points I raised earlier: does Miss Collins wish to stay in the army cadets and how we award this well-deserved medal to her."
"What safeguards would you have in place to protect her?" asked Rosie framing the question far better than I would have done.
"We are aware of the change of gender since she joined the cadets but I would remind both of you that the army, in fact, all of the armed services, have policies to deal with such things."
"We know all about that, Sir William, but I'm talking about the day to day stuff, like where she sleeps, which bathroom does she use, what if one the little shits--sorry, her colleagues makes transphobic comments. You won't be there to hear them and I suspect neither will anyone else with the authority to stop it."
"We don't know if that is going to happen, do we?"
"Yes we do, or if you don't plan for it, it certainly will. Remember, the army is full of bigots who keep quiet until it suits them."
"They will be dealt with severely if it does happen."
"What after she's been beaten up or taken an overdose?"
"Things have changed, Lady Templeton-Barr. Your ideas are perhaps not entirely up to date."
"With all due respect, I was surrounded by soldiers at the embassy in Amdara, I'm well aware of the conversations they have. Remember we're talking rankers here, not Sandhurst and some of the cruellest comments were made by officers who should know better. People who are different are targets because they are visible and they don't come more visible than someone wearing a different uniform to the one they wore before and with a bloody big gong on it. Amber might as well wear a big roundel on her back because she is going to be a huge target."
"Are you suggesting Miss Collins no longer requires to stay in the cadets?"
Listening to the conversation, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do anymore. Rosie was right, I'm going to be walking around like a mobile target and I know my previous colleagues and shits aptly describes quite a few of them. Perhaps it might have described me before I realised how hurtful it can be. It isn't bigotry exactly, it's more a case of their home culture and lack of experience.
"That's for her to decide," offered Rosie putting the ball into my court.
"Miss Collins?" said Sir William looking directly at me.
"Do I have to answer today?" I asked thinking that it might give me enough time to run far away where nobody knows me.
Sir William looked a little put-out as if my answer was like he'd had someone rearrange the pens on his desk without his permission and now he'd have to put them all back in their usual order. "Obviously, the more notice we have of your decision the more safeguards we can organise. How about we give you a further week to consider what you'd like to do?"
As this was likely his best offer, I accepted it.
"As for the medal, we'd like to organise at the next opportunity we have for the presentation."
"What does that mean exactly?" asked Rosie.
"Well as Miss Collins was on secondment to the RMP at the time, we thought it might be appropriate to have their Colonel in Chief present the medal."
Shit! That's Her Majesty, I get to meet the flipping Queen. I nearly fell off the chair.
"So no big deal then?" Said Rosie looking at me with an expression which said she knew who it was too.
"Naturally, we'd like to celebrate the occasion as it's not every day one of our cadets wins the George Medal. We'd also like you to attend in your dress uniform, Miss Collins."
"I - uh, don't actually have one, it all got blown up in Amdara."
"We'll organise that for you, eh Captain Beech?"
"Oh absolutely, Sir William."
"When are we talking about doing this?" asked Rosie, "The presentation that is?"
"We've pencilled it in for six weeks time, subject to our VIP being available. We'll write and confirm as soon as we can."
Rosie nodded.
"I think that's as far as we can go, we'll start discussing safeguarding with Harrogate and wait to hear Miss Collins' decision. Captain Beech will speak with you to make arrangements for the uniform. Thank you both for coming."
That was it, Captain Beech took my measurements and said she would have it sent to my home address and that they'd be in touch about the presentation date.
"Is it likely to be Her Majesty?" I asked aware of her great age and increasing frailty.
"Who the VIP?" asked Beech.
"Yes," I answered.
"Apparently she has stated that she would like to meet you."
"I'd have thought she'd be the last person to want to meet a pariah like me."
"She sees you as a courageous young woman, like we all do -- unless of course, you'd prefer different."
"No, that's fine," I said blushing down to my toes.
Rosie and I left soon after, she was still bristling at the meeting and how condescending Whitehall was. "They send us out there to fight or spy or solicit or die and complain whatever happens while sitting on their big fat arses doing sod all. None of them should be allowed to get to executive level without having done a couple of years in the field. Bloody government, nothing but a pile of tossers." After the tension I nearly collapsed laughing and then she laughed as well. She put her arm around me and hugged me as we left the building.
"What d'you want to do?" asked Rosie as we emerged onto the street.
"I dunno, whatever I do they'll crucify me," I said feeling a bit down.
"No, I mean now, what d'you want to do?"
"Oh, jump off tower bridge..." I offered my eyes filling with tears.
"Hey," she hugged me again, "where's that courageous young woman who saved my bacon?"
"I dunno," I said sniffing back a sob. "I'd be better going back to being a boy wouldn't I?"
"You'd look a bit silly meeting the Queen in a woman's dress uniform."
"I'll call in sick."
"No you won't, you're going to accept the medal, you deserve it and then you're going to go to Harrogate and give them hell if they do anything but accept you as the lovely young woman you are. If they don't, I'll teach you how to be, 'World War 3 in knickers'."
I laughed at her silliness but the reality of returning to Yorkshire filled me with dread. There were some really nice kids up there but there we also one or two who frightened me and as they were much bigger than I was, I wouldn't be able to bluster it out.
"C'mon, we're going to see Dr King," she said putting her phone back in her pocket, he's got a space in half an hour."
We got there just in time and Rosie waited in reception while I entered the doctor's inner sanctum with butterflies flying around so fast, my tummy threatened to get dizzy with their antics.
I told him about my meeting and my uncertainties and about meeting the Queen. He told me she was really nice and wouldn't be fazed by my gender problem, which if she hadn't been briefed about it, wouldn't know because I was so passable as a young female. He also told me to choose what I wanted to do about going back to or leaving the army. "They do have a very good policy on diversity but if you feel you'd be vulnerable, resign."
"I told my mum, I wanted to become an officer and she encouraged me to try."
"That's a fine ambition, Amber, but remember you're living your life for you not, your mum, however much you love her. Do what you want because you're the one who has to live with the consequences."
He spoke to Rosie while I waited outside, my tummy still seemingly filled with butterflies about the size of albatrosses and had no idea what I wanted, let alone what to do. If I hadn't ended up in dresses to help Rosie, would any of this happened and would I just be a normal sixteen-year-old grunt - a bit on the small size but otherwise okay. While I had some amazing experiences while I was in the Middle East and got to know Rosie if I hadn't gone life would be much simpler. Would the gender thing have happened anyway or was it all tied up with wearing that first dress? Oh hell, what do I do?
"Right, young lady, let's go and get some lunch," and with that, she whisked me into a cab and we set off for the West End.
I wasn't very hungry but I managed to gobble down some lasagne with a glass of orange juice. Perhaps the butterflies liked Italian food because my tummy seemed to calm down after the meal.
We went for a walk along the Serpentine and Rosie nudged me and smiled. "Those two lads were giving you a real look-over."
"When?" I was astonished, I was still trying to decide my fate so barely noticed where we were let alone who else was about.
"Just now, that makes half a dozen, so you must be doing something right."
"I expect they were looking at you, you're much more beautiful than me."
"I'm also much older and they were definitely giving you a good look, not me."
That threw me a little, it was both exciting and terrifying simultaneously. But if I can't cope with it happening on the street, how will I cope with dozens of them in a relatively enclosed space in Harrogate? That was worrying.
"Resign then," Rosie said as we walked along.
"What?" I gasped.
"Well you obviously haven't got the stomach for a fight anymore, so resign and run away back to Mummy."
"I only fought before because I had to."
"So, be prepared to do so again - the bullies and bigots won't be trying to kill you like the Arabs were and you have one big advantage..."
"Eh?"
"Two actually..."
"I do?"
"Yes, you're female and you have actually shot someone. The most that lot will have killed is some poor bird or small furry thing. It isn't the same as shooting someone who is trying to kill you."
"Gee thanks, remind me why don't you?"
"I suspect if you gently hint that people who threaten you or try to intimidate you end up on a mortuary slab, only the most stupid will try to see if it happens to them."
"I can't go round shooting people because they try to bully me."
"Pity, it would save the army having to discharge them." She paused then added, "I think some extra self-defence lessons would be useful, especially against men who are bigger than you but less intelligent."
"Like where will I find those?"
"I just happen to know someone who teaches a very effective form of self- preservation. If you know what you're doing, size is less important than surprise and he'll teach you to use anything as a weapon, including your opponent. It's all in the mind, knowing you can take the initiative even when you didn't start it."
I looked astonished but she made another call and that evening I spent an hour meeting Steve Denman who explained the type of self-defence he taught and gave me a few examples of his skill. I won't be strong enough to lift someone's head off their spine but a quick twist can do the same, but to remember you only kill if they're trying to kill you. He showed me what to do if they were armed with a knife, two quick moves and you either break their arm or stab them while they're still holding the blade, so no fingerprints.
I was to go and see him for two hours every morning for the next week. Rosie spoke to my mum and she was okay with it, then I spoke to her and said it was a precaution if I go back to Harrogate.
The training was hard work, because apart from trying to do the various moves, you also had to suss the environment to see how it can help you, plus your opponent to spot any weaknesses. But at the end of the week, apart from a few bruises, I was much more confident and possibly dangerous - perhaps to myself, though Steve emphasised don't fight if you can run. If they're still a threat, take them out when you're ready and things are in your favour.
I thanked Rosie, who also attended for a refresher, for organising the course and went back home on the train. Of course, I had some extra things to wear as she thinned out her wardrobe, some were really nice. However, I didn't expect to use my new skills quite so quickly.
I was recognised walking down my street by three of the yobs who tried to torment me before I went to Harrogate. They surrounded me making comments about my change of gender and being in the army, something about fairies in uniform. I had nowhere to run. Behind me was a wall and in front of me three yobs all bigger than me. I would try to talk my way out of it but be prepared to make every blow count.
The talking stopped when the leader of the trio grabbed me. I broke his wrist and his nose and then span him round so he head-butted one of his companions. The third one I hit with my suitcase, in the chest, followed with another swing to his face. I left the three of them coughing and spluttering in the gutter - where they belonged. A week ago, I'd have shat myself.
As I entered my house I'd made my decision, I was going back to the army, though at this rate I might kill more of our side than the enemy. Thankfully, no follow up was made following my self-defence practice - it certainly worked.
The uniform, dress one that is, arrived and my mother made me try it on. It was certainly different and now I'd have to march with the girls, though, actually, we all marched together, after all, tall men would take bigger strides than smaller ones, I'd always been one of the smaller ones anyway so would cope and fit in. I'd continued the exercises that Steve had shown me, so hopefully, I'd be better able to look after myself, just as well because the next Monday morning, I dragged my case onto the train and set off towards Harrogate and the AFC. I slept much of the way there because I hadn't slept much the night before. Settling down in my seat alongside a small table, I went through my defence plan before I sat down and nodded off over my book. I sat on the corridor side of the two seats - easier escape and had my handbag on the inner seat. An older woman eventually came and sat opposite me and asked where I was going. I didn't really want to talk but once we got into conversation, it relaxed me quite a bit.
She came from Harrogate so knew about the army college there, "Didn't one of them win some medal recently, out in the Middle East?"
I blushed to the roots of my hair, "I think they did."
"You mean you don't know? I would have thought you'd know them personally."
"I was away on secondment," I said still blushing.
"Oh, that sounds interesting."
"Not really, my dad was a redcap, so I asked to do a secondment with them."
"I'm sure he'd be proud of his daughter." That made me blush even more.
"Dunno about that, but it was all procedural, filling in forms for everything, especially for antisocial behaviour after they'd been drinking."
"So it wasn't in the Middle East, then?"
How do they do that - read your mind? "I um..."
"It's all right, young lady, I used to teach, your body language identified you as the medal winner, so I am honoured to be in the company of one so young yet so brave."
"I didn't do anything really, they just decided to make an example of someone and that was me."
"You see it as a punishment? How interesting."
"Well, it will mark me out as different."
"Yes but different in showing courage and initiative."
"It's still different."
"But in a good sense."
"Not sure some of the grunts will see it that way."
"You don't seem very complimentary about your fellow students."
"You wouldn't be either if you'd spent the last year with them. Some of them can't hold a knife and fork properly let alone a pen."
"So are you going to teach them how to? You know, hold a knife or fork or even write neatly."
"That's not my job, ma'am, I intend just to survive until I can get them to fund me through uni, then come back as an officer."
"Sounds like a plan, Amber. I wish you well, oh we're nearly there. We shook hands and I struggled off dragging my heavy case to find a taxi. Mum had given me a tenner for the fare, but I spotted Captain Beech as she waved at me. Apparently, she volunteered to come and collect me to take me back to the camp and also she explained the safeguards they had set up. I had my own room - that was good because of the number of clothes I now had needed two wardrobes. I was to use the female toilets. I explained I'd been modified to disguise down below, and she blushed but smiled.
I was also to liaise with her each day for the next two weeks in the hope that the novelty would be over by then. The other thing was that in two weeks I had to attend Buck House to get my gong and she said she would accompany me - probably to make sure I didn't run off instead.
I didn't have much contact with my year cohort because I'd got back in the late afternoon, so just ate and went to my room to unpack. Then it was back to classes the next day. To my horror I was made to stand in front of the class and was introduced as Amber, who was now regarded as female and should be respected as such, also I'd been awarded a medal for gallantry while on secondment with the RMP and they used my punch line, "Just in case any of you have a problem with her, I should caution you that, those who did make an issue out in Jordan went home in body bags, so I'd think twice if I were you." That caused a general murmur and some chuckles. Obviously, some of them think shooting someone is funny - it isn't, it's buttock clenching and sickening, if it isn't, there's something wrong.
At the first coffee break, I was wearing jeans and top, I was accosted by several of the girls, who seemed quite happy to have me on 'their team', so to speak. I did notice a few contemptuous looks from some of the boys and I hoped I could remember all Steve had told me. Talk or run but plan in case you have to fight, and if the latter, make it sudden and short and use anything to hand. Survival is not illegal.
That evening after dinner and homework which we do in the common room, I was quite happy sitting with four other girls and answering their questions and just generally chilling out. Then I was told to be ready on the Thursday morning to drive down to London and to take my dress uniform. Oh poo, this is it then, they haven't changed their minds.
When they saw me heading off, Carmen, her mum is Spanish, and Suzie saw me walking out to the official car, a Jaguar, with Captain Beech, they knew what was happening so it would be all around the place in minutes. We were to stay overnight in a hotel and be at the palace for ten o'clock, the presentation was at eleven. Apparently, we'd meet with my mother at Buck House. Captain Beech gave me my ticket and told me not to lose it. I shoved it in my handbag.
After dinner, and again the next morning Captain Beech drilled me. I was to march to HM and salute, then bob. She'd present the medal and I was to salute, bob about-face and then march away back to my original place. Not much to remember but I was never that coordinated and I had an awful feeling I'd mess it up, so I didn't sleep well that night. I didn't want any breakfast but Beech made me eat some eggs on toast and drink a cuppa. Then we practised again and got dressed in our best uniforms after I'd done my makeup and applied plenty of smellies - I was sweating like a pig. This was more frightening than Jordan, probably because I knew what was coming, out there it just happened and I simply reacted to it, so no time to worry.
Feeling nauseous, I sat in the back of the car as our driver, a young woman, took us off up the Mall to Buckingham Palace. We met up with my mother and chatted until the awards ceremony began. Then we all had to go to our places and officials would announce who was to move up to see the queen. I watched dumbstruck as people were knighted and invested with all sorts of medals. Finally, it was my turn. I stood to attention and marched up to her majesty, stopped and saluted, then bobbed.
"Amber, isn't it?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Pretty name, suits you."
"Thank you, Ma'am."
"So how did someone as lovely as you get involved in such a business?"
"I was escorting the ambassador's wife, Ma'am and we were attacked."
"And you returned fire I believe."
"Yes, Ma'am, they were intent on killing us."
"So I heard. Well, young lady, you are certainly not lacking in courage to win this medal, but I also believe you do in your personal life. Keep on as you have started, be an example to others and congratulations on receiving this medal. I hope you consider going on to the RMP because I think you'd be good for them and they for you." With that, she handed me the medal and shook my hand. I stepped back, saluted, bobbed and about-faced, marched back to my place, stood at attention and, then at ease. I had a George Medal and I nearly fainted, because I had met the Queen, bloody stroll on.
After the ceremony was over, Beech made me wear the bloody medal when we went to the brief buffet lunch, then it was goodbye to Mum, who had a photo taken of the two of us together, me wearing my gong and her in her best dress. Then it was back to Harrogate, in uniform, to be presented to the head of the college at a formal dinner that evening. We only just made it and I was made to stand there as the citation was read out and the official description of the action. Meeting the queen was easier than this, gee bloody whizz, next time instead of fighting I'll run away, it's gotta be easier than all this fuss.
A week after the London trip and my photo receiving the medal was placed in the entrance hall of the college, one of the grunts, a big lad called 'slasher' by his mates, decided to inform me that he thought I was a wuss and probably got the medal for cocksucking, so did I want to demonstrate my deep throat technique for him?
I didn't and turned to move away, except one of his friends blocked me and did so each time I tried to go. I felt that awful void in the pit of my stomach and knew that I could get really hurt.
"Look, Gove, I don't want any trouble, so just stop it all right," I said as forcefully as I could.
"Look, Tinkerbell, just suck me off and me mates and we'll let yer go."
"And if I don't," I said back doing an assessment as Steve had taught me.
"It's gonna happen, fairy, so if you don't wanna get hurt, just cooperate." He sneered at me. He was about ten inches taller than me and towered over me. I saw the fire extinguisher about two metres away. I had a plan.
As Gove said to grab me, I stepped forward and kneed him in the crutch, very hard. Then elbows and knees flying I fought my way towards the fire extinguisher, a carbon dioxide one. Two minutes later, I had taken out three of them, the metal casing of the extinguisher proving a useful club as I sprayed them with the freezing gas and bashed them with the bulb.
The noise attracted some of the staff and we were all marched off for a medical check-up in the sickbay. I had various bruises where blows had landed, two of my attackers had fractures of the elbow - I hit where Steve had told me, another had a damaged kneecap and Gove, so-called 'Slasher' had severe bruising to his genitals and a smashed cheekbone to go with his concussion.
They accused me of going berserk for no reason, but Gove was known as a bully, and although I was reprimanded for use of excessive force, I protested and demanded it be recognised that odds of four to one were excessive and my response, as a female they were threatening with sexual assault, was appropriate, almost adding that next time I'd kill them.
It all died down, especially when Captain Beech backed me against the others, who strangely decided to resign from the cadets. So I was accorded minor celebrity status, especially amongst the girls he and his cronies had bullied and I knew from then on, I could cope with anything that life presented to me and I was going to get that university place and become an officer and make my mother proud of me, as would my father have been had he been alive to see it. It wasn't what I'd have thought about before but somehow escorting Rosie and finding my true self made anything possible and now I had a dream which I was going to work at to make true, as Her Majesty had said, 'Become an example'. Well, how could I argue with our Commander in Chief, especially when given a personal order, "Yes, Ma'am," I said and saluted.
The Ambassador's Wife - update.
By
Angharad.
You may remember me, I was born Ambrose Collins which I somehow got changed to Amber Collins and because I was caught up in a little fracas in Jordan and somehow shot three men, two of them with intent to kill, and kicked a grenade into a swimming pool, allegedly saving the lives of Yussuf our bodyguard and Mrs Rosie Templeton-Barre, I received a George Medal. I was nominally in the army, being a cadet on work experience with the RMP (military police) on attachment to the embassy at Amdara. This is a snotty little place, really a dust bowl with snotty people who seem to like revolting against anyone and everyone. I mean we have never ruled that particular sand-pit, so what have they got against us? The fact that their ruler made a pass at the ambassador's wife, while he was drunk and she rebuffed him was all the excuse they needed. Her rebuff included slapping his face hard enough for the drunken idiot to fall over and swear revenge upon her. Apparently, Amdaran women are treated very badly, if I say they make Afghan women look well looked after, you might get my drift.
We evacuated Mrs Templeton - Barre to Jordan which was when the action occurred in which I shot three men and somehow saved three lives. I was disguised as a woman for a month or two as a companion to Rosie having tried to act as a decoy in the first instance, resplendent in wig and one of her dresses. We got away and got reinforcements from Jordan, were evacuated, attacked and then flown back to Blighty a day or two later. My documents had been destroyed by a hit on my bedroom by an RPG (a type of grenade) and in the haste to leave the embassy, the official there, made me one as dictated by the ambassador, in the name of Amber Collins.
I seem to have been living as female ever since; don't get me wrong, I enjoy living as a girl, and the hormones have really altered my teenage body, so I have reasonable breasts and tush, with quite a small waist between them.
I owe loads to Rosie, she got me to see a doctor, she took me to a self-defence expert, who told me how to fight if running away wasn't possible. He taught me to quickly evaluate a situation and if violence was inevitable to get the first hit in as many times as possible before they get you. If you get it right, they don't get you instead they run away. I got into one such incident at Harrogate at the Army College and by using a fire extinguisher and knees and elbows, I fought off four opponents. As James my defence instructor told me, survival is not a crime and to fight as if you mean it, and be prepared to kill if the situation demands it.
The next incident occurred when the unarmed combat trainer called me out in front of the class and challenged me. I tried to tell him that I didn't want to do it, but he said if I didn't he'd put me on a charge for disobeying an order. I told him to carry on because I didn't want to hurt him.
I walked away and he ran up and pushed me hard in the back. I rolled away so wasn't hurt. He came at me again, "Come on medal girl, they gave it to you for breaking a nail." He rushed at me again and I sidestepped him and tripped him as he went past.
That did it, he proclaimed he was going to teach me a lesson. I asked the class to witness that I didn't want to fight him, they were horrified. Here was a man probably fifty pounds heavier than me who had promised to thrash me for no reason, other than to make me an example in front of the others.
I ran across the room and he gave chase; just before he caught me I dropped down and he fell over the top of me, landing awkwardly, it hurt, he was now threatening to kill me. I was moving backwards toward the edge of the room when he charged me again. His momentum drove him into the chair I waved in front of him and it caught him on his arm and face. He went down like a sack of spuds, blood and teeth flying all over the place. He was out cold, which was just as well as I put him in the recovery position and told someone to call for an ambulance.
Of course, there was an investigation and the officer holding it told me that hitting someone with a chair wasn't cricket, don't ya know. Everyone there backed my story that I had been involved in a fight which could have ended in a serious sexual assault and had beaten off four attackers and the defence instructor wanted me to engage with him. I refused and he attacked me trying to provoke me into fighting back. I had asked him to stop and he continued and being much bigger than me, I was genuinely in fear of my life. I told the office I tripped him and again told him I didn't want to fight but he rushed at me again and I dropped in front of him and he fell over me and hurt himself and when he got up he was threatening to kill me. I then decided to fight back with a chair. He was so mad at me he didn't notice me edging towards it, he rushed me again and I hit him with the chair. I wasn't proud of it because I had hurt a fellow soldier but neither was I ashamed of protecting my life.
The officer said at first it could lead to a court-martial and only the evidence of the girls in my class prevented the army white-washing things. I was told that this time I would be all right but if I showed the excessive violence I had done twice, they would give me a dishonourable discharge. I don't like having the faults of others put upon me, so I told them that the first rule of combat was to look after yourself, then your colleagues. I had done just that. If they wanted to sacrifice me as an example, I would go to the press.
"You can't Collins, it's official secrets stuff."
"I don't care, if you are neglecting the law and natural justice by protecting the perpetrators it's no wonder you can't attract more women into the armed services. That culture went out during the last century."
The captain who had been dealing with me dismissed me but the colonel who had been watching it all sent for me. I wondered if I had overstepped the mark and waited outside his door like a schoolgirl outside the headmistress' door.
I was bidden to enter and I saluted and stood at attention before him. He sort of saluted me back and told me 'at ease'. I relaxed, if I took care I might avoid the can yet. "I watched the investigation into your excessive violence." I bit my tongue and didn't answer back.
"Did you have to break his arm and his face? Well?"
"Um, he was threatening to kill me and I didn't think he was joking, I wasn't sure where the chair was going to hit him but if it hadn't, I doubt I'd have been standing here now."
"He was quite a bit bigger than you?"
"Most men are, sir, I didn't know what he planned I think possibly just breaking me in half."
"I know the girls are worried about their safety."
"Yes, sir."
"I want you to teach them to defend themselves, even if it causes excessive violence. I don't want an army that uses sexual assault as a weapon. Teach them to fight like you do, to win."
"With all due respect, sir, my instructor told me only to fight if I couldn't run away."
"Fair comment, so teach them for when they can't"
"Very good, sir."
"Use the PE and games period for a month, will that be enough."
"To get them the basics, yes, sir."
"Good. Dismissed, Collins."
So that was what I did. The colonel assured me that any record of violence would be altered to show how my action had been defensive. And within a month I had a group of women who knew that running away was better than engagement, because if your opponent is fast you might not win, especially if it was by surprise.
Needless to say, my time at Harrowgate became quieter, although for some reason I was painted as a man-hater. I wasn't, but at least I was left alone, had good enough grades to get to university but in the holiday between, I managed to get a certain place sorted, which the army arranged for me. I now felt like a real woman.
I had to agree to take a short service commission after uni. While I was tempted to study gender studies or something comparable, I ended up going for English with some history of literature involved.
University was great and I enjoyed myself and discovered I liked both men and women equally. But all good things come to an end and I had to do my three years in the army as a junior officer. I spent ages running about fields, though what that did for learning how to command I don't know. About six months later I was posted to the RMP as a second lieutenant, I was officially a Mary, who expected to be shown how to do things by my sergeant. My mother was ecstatic, I had made officer, one better than my dad.
I'd learned to respect my NCOs, they had been around much longer than I, and most of the time they knew what to do. Once they saw I was respectful of them, they were great, that I was pretty with a reasonable body and long blond hair didn't do me any harm either.
I was serving at Aldershot when we were called out to a ruckus involving some squaddies. I was duty officer, so along with my sergeant and another MP we went to investigate. Some drunken paras thought they had been short-changed and were taking it out on the pub decor. Great, just what I need, some special services breaking the place up. Not all paras are special services but anyone who is happy to jump out of a perfectly good aeroplane must be either brave or touched, possibly both.
My two MPs launched into the ruckus and several men were wearing bracelets before they had finished. I was checking on the state of the prisoners, thinking about all the paperwork they cause, while my sergeant was trying to handcuff one particularly large paratrooper. I saw his hand move and a knife drawn - this was now possibly life-threatening stuff. My sergeant still hadn't seen it and as the man stabbed at him I pushed my sarge out of the way at the same time picking a bottle off a nearby table and smashing it over the soldier's hand.
"Well, well, so that's how you want to play it", he dived at me and I jumped out of the way, he came at me again and I smashed a bottle and waved it in his face. "You haven't got the guts," he spat at me.
"My self-defence instructor said something like that when I wrapped a chair around his head." He feinted and came towards me again when my MP tasered him and by golly did he yell, he also wet himself.
He was cuffed, none too gently and he was dragged out to the van along with three of his colleagues. He was out of it for a while, but he threatened vengeance on me personally. His colleagues told him to stay quiet as he could also be charged with insubordination and threatening behaviour.
He was still grumbling when my sergeant told him that he should consider himself lucky as I had put four in hospital when I was a cadet. I just ignored it, simply doing my job, the man had already been charged with pulling a knife on my sergeant so he could be going down or out.
He went to the cells swearing revenge on me. I went back to my paperwork.
That's how it was. My reputation grew for taking Lofty Tyler down. I hadn't really but he was discharged from the service and sentenced to several years in prison, we don't need thugs in uniform.
It was two years later and I was deciding whether I'd sign on for a few more years when he turned up again. I was walking to the station to meet my mum when he confronted me, "Not so brave now you haven't got someone waving a taser at me."
I didn't need this, I didn't have time and I could get hurt, and it would be entirely personal. "Look just go on your way and I'll pretend you didn't threaten me."
"But I did, Lieutenant, huh expect a girl to do a man's job."
"Please, I don't want any unpleasantness."
"I'm gonna break your scrawny neck. It's your fault I lost my job, got a discharge and done time in nick. Now you're gonna pay."
"It was your fault, you pulled that knife, no one made you."
"Ha, the last thing you'll see is my knife stickin' out of ya." He pulled it out of his waistband.
Oh dear, this was a real problem. I did think about just running for it, but I noticed somebody calling the police, so I had to keep him busy for a few minutes if I could. If not I'd bleed all over him
He slashed at me and I jumped away, damn these were nice trousers too. Again he slashed and I backed away. I spotted a freestanding litter bin on the pavement.
The person who'd phoned told Lofty that he'd done so. It was the moment I needed and gripped the bin. Lofty just looked at me and laughed, "Gonna go pickin' litter?" Then he lunged forward and I stepped back and swung the bin with all my might. It hit him and broke, knocking him down. "Oh dear, now what ya gonna do?" he asked kicking the litter about. Then he slashed at me again and once more I jumped back and he laughed. Then he did so again and this time I stepped into him blocked the slash and kicked him behind his knee. He yelled and pushed me away, but I held on to his hand bearing the knife. He swung me around and I flew off pulling him after me. He fell onto the ground and groaned. He rose, his face bleeding quite badly. "I'm gonna kill you," he said and lurched at me again.
This time I sidestepped him and kicked his bad leg and he fell again. He staggered to his feet and as he wobbled I ran at him and kicked the leg again, as he started to fall I hit him on the back of his neck with all the force I could summon. He slumped forward and lay still, I didn't know if he was playing possum or not then saw the amount of blood, he'd fallen on his knife.
With the help of phone man, we turned him over and the knife was stuck in his gut. I tried to staunch the wound using a scarf I'd not long bought.
"Don't tell any of my mates you bested me again," he croaked at me. In the distance, sirens were wailing.
"Stay with me, that's an order."
"I'm not in your fucking army now, remember you got me thrown out."
"Just stay with me."I entreated him again.
"I was gonna kill you."
"Bigger men than you have tried."
"You killed thee ragheads in Jordan," he said to me as if it was important.
"Maybe," I said trying to stop the bleeding.
"Give you a gong didn't they?"
"It's not important now," I tried to keep him awake and blood was trickling out of his mouth. He coughed and splattered me with it.
"It is, I got bettered twice by an 'eroine, no wonder, bloody superwoman." He said this and died. The police and ambulance arrived together but were unable to revive him, I should feel glad that I was alive but I felt sad that an unnecessary life had been lost.
My mother was collected by a police driver and brought to the copshop. They tried to pin a stabbing on me but Mr Phone had videoed the whole thing. I was represented by an army lawyer and went back to my little house to shower and threw out all the clothes I'd been wearing.
My mother kept quiet but made some tea and we drank it together. "Not exactly the circumstances I'd envisaged when I set off for the station."
"Quite," my mother said. Then a few minutes later, "Did you decide to sign on again?"
"You have got to be joking, I have been involved in the deaths of four men, there is no way I want any more of this."
"But you're good at your job, you're already a first lieutenant, should make captain if you stay in."
"How many lives will that cost? I've had enough, maybe I could teach English?"
"That will be much harder than this and the pension's worse."
"Maybe?" I replied I didn't know what I wanted but I didn't want to see anyone else die. I was out of the army at the first opportunity, that was all I knew.
The end.