Vesta’s Hearth Chapters 1 and 2
By
Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012

This is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Introduction

A considerable number of births throughout the world result in an intersexed child. Many are discovered at birth, some in the early years of childhood and puberty but some do not discover their condition until reaching adulthood when perhaps the brain reverses its original decision to favour one gender and the true battle of the sexes begins.

In some cases, the intersexed condition is not discovered until after death when the cause of that death required an autopsy. However, not all human deaths require an autopsy and one wonders how many intersexed people are never discovered.

During the 40 years I held a licence to drive a London taxi I was privileged to meet a wonderful kaleidoscope of people. Passengers from just about every nation, every strata of society, every level of intellect and every occupation and many of them influenced my thinking and under-standing of humanity but some are unforgettable for good and bad reasons and I confess to stealing a few to use as characters in my novels.

One such person gave me the character of Helen Finch. I won’t give any details because I promised to write nothing that would reveal her true identity and she has read Vesta’s Hearth, liked it and is comfortable about its publication.
What is she really like?

A truly beautiful woman both inside and out, very successful and happily married and that is all you’ll get from me!

I’ve even changed the description of a number of the characters who were real-life friends to her and needed to be included in this novel.
As for me, I have no medical qualifications I write novels so don’t be tempted to look upon Vesta’s Hearth as a textbook. I have done a great deal of research but have used the knowledge I gained to suit the novel rather than educate people.

Every other person living on this planet is different to you, so make allowances and enjoy those differences.

Helen’s journey to discover herself and search for a new family and home begins

1

I stood with my hands loosely clasped in front of me, my head bowed and very frightened. I was wearing a navy blue cotton ladies wrap over overall, the sort that office cleaners wear, a pair of ankle length white cotton socks and white cotton briefs. On my feet was a pair of androgynous black leather flat-heeled shoes with Velcro fasteners. I carried a navy blue button up cardigan, which was, bearing in mind it was June, totally unnecessary. Where my own clothes were, I had no idea and why I wore the cleaners overall, again, no idea. It certainly wasn’t standard issue prison uniform, taking into consideration that I was male, 29 years old and unshaven. The only part of me that might have matched the clothing was my hair, long but in a masculine way, well I thought so anyway. But I was frightened, very frightened, I didn’t know where I was, what sort of establishment I had been sent to. If I could have escaped from this place, I would easily have found a job in a freak show as The Bearded Housekeeper.

“Helen Finch?”

I looked up and saw the owner of the voice, he was tall, about 6’ 2”, dark haired, good looking, broad shouldered and smartly dressed in a black blazer, pressed black trousers, leather shoes that shone and he carried a clipboard. He looked like authority, not a guard, something else, managerial perhaps but power was there, something under my ribs gave a jump.

“That’s the name they told me I was to answer to in here, a girl’s name for God’s sake! My real name is…” He held up his hand, “I know your outside name but it is not used here. You answer to Helen Finch,” he looked down at the clipboard, “Five years for rape.”

“I didn’t rape her!”

He tapped the board, “The court order is here and it states rape, though I do recognise that the judge at your trial has made a qualifying note. It appears he was not happy with the jury’s verdict; thought there was some doubt. You are lucky,” he said looking back at me, “Rape usually means a long sentence in a maximum security establishment amongst a bunch of convicts that would beat you senseless at every opportunity. The judge reduced your sentence to five years in this correction and adjustment facility. With good behaviour that may become three years, with exemplary behaviour it could result in your serving only thirty months then a conversion to parole made by a panel on the advice of your mentor.”

“Mentor? Who is my mentor?”

“I am. Now follow me, we have to draw the rest of your kit.”

“A ball gown, silk nightie and make-up,” I sneered.

He stopped so suddenly I nearly bumped into him, “I am going to pretend that that was a genuine enquiry and not sarcasm,” he turned to face me forcing me to look up, “I have told you, I am your mentor, it is my decision as to whether you stay here for five years or thirty months, bear that in mind on every occasion I am with you. Now the question you asked, it was a question?” I nodded, “Good. There will be no ball gown; the nightie will be cotton though it does have some broidery Anglaise. Now if you find it convenient, may we proceed?”

I followed rather meekly resolving to be more careful, to all intents and purposes, this man held my future in his hands and wisecracking was not the way to win hearts and minds. We entered a room with a counter behind which stood a man whose size and weight, muscular weight I stress, would have made it easy for him to enter and leave the establishment without the need of keys, he could have ripped the iron barred doors and windows out of their frames. “New intake?”

My mentor nodded, “Helen Finch.” Shrek glanced at a clipboard lying on the counter, turned and opened a locker. “Shoulder bag,” he placed it on the counter, undid the straps and flipped back the flap, “Note books, textbooks, a packet of ball point pens” I glanced at my mentor but he held up his hand, “Later.”

The storeman then continued with the issuing of my clothing and accessories. Another one of the wrap-overs, two pairs of the briefs identical to the ones I was already wearing, two pairs of white socks, three white shirts and another pair of shoes. Then he placed a zip up toiletry bag down, “Camay soap and cosmetics…”

“Camay soap, cosmetics?” Again the Mentor held up his hand.

There were also tubes of Nair hair remover, I knew about that stuff, I once shared a flat with a girl, a platonic arrangement and she had left a tube in the bathroom. It had been a particularly grotty morning and I had, mistaking it for toothpaste, squeezed some onto my toothbrush. It took fifteen minutes and a gallon of mouthwash to get the taste out of my mouth. To give credit where it’s due, I have never grown hair on my teeth or tongue. I didn’t bother to ask why I was given them; I knew the answer would be an imperiously raised hand.

The storeman ran his eye over everything and nodded, “Bedding is already in your room; your mentor will get you to sign for them once you’ve checked everything. Now go through this form to make sure you have everything and then sign it.”

Before I could read the form, the mentor took it scanned down and nodded as he handed it to me, “Sign it as Helen Finch.”
The storeman spoke again, “Shorts, T-shirts, and leotard will be issued when you start sports and dancing. That’s everything Miss Finch,” he smirked, “Have a nice stay.”

I was about to make a retort but remembered the warning from my mentor and bit my lip and taking the shoulder bag I followed my mentor out of the store, across a brightly lit reception area and waited whilst he unlocked another door and walked into a pale pink painted corridor with doors on both sides. He stopped beside the third of eight doors, unlocked it and stepped back, “This is your room,” and pointing to the door opposite, “That is mine and the doors at the end of the corridor are the dining area and kitchen on the right, common room and library on the left.” He reached out and felt my hair, “Long enough but it does need some work. Start unpacking. I’ll be back in twenty minutes and I’ll fetch a set or curlers for you.”

Before I could answer he had turned away and walked back into the reception area locking the door behind him. I felt a cloud of doom descend; locked up and locked up for at least thirty months, I wasn’t going to survive, it didn’t need the unusual clothes or the other things that I would have to do, just being locked up was enough. I looked into the room and stepped across the threshold. It was a bright, welcoming room, pink of course but the wallpaper was decorated with hearts and cuddly animals, very girly but it was at least cheerful. There was a four-foot bed, which gave me something of a surprise, was there going to be sleepover partners? I didn’t dwell on the subject, sleepover with me in a cotton broidery Anglaise nightie meant a different kind of sleepover, I knew bad things happened in prisons and it would seem the authorities did not stop short of encouraging it. God! What was happening to me, what were they going to do? I felt tears welling-up, fear, a terrible fear of the unknown fate awaiting. Thirty months in this weird place. I brushed my wrist over my eyes and continue my inspection.

There was a double wardrobe, containing only clothes hangers and for a while I pondered, there was something not quite right and it took a long moment for me to realise that all the hangers were for dresses, skirts and blouses, there wasn’t one that included a trouser bar. Next I inspected the dressing table complete with triple mirror. I opened the top drawer, it was partitioned for makeup and jewellery, definitely a woman’s drawer and without thinking I went to the carryall and started unpacking. The bag holding toiletries I unzipped, removed the Camay soap, didn’t dare look at the rest of the contents and put it away in a cupboard next to the chair-well. The nighties went into a chest of drawers and the shoes into the wardrobe. I took the books and other stuff out of the bag and put them into a cupboard in the dressing table and carried the Camay and Nair into the small bathroom I placed them in a cupboard under the hand basin, next to which was a towel rail with towels hanging over it, in pink! There was only room for a shower; ‘I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the luxury of soaking in a bath…’ where did that come from? I was a quick shower man and can’t remember soaking in a bath, was there some sort of subliminal conditioning going on in this room. I stood still and listened carefully but could hear nothing, not even music coming from other rooms. Absently I unwrapped a bar of the Camay, held it to my nose and breathed in the perfume, ‘it was pretty, I liked it’ and then stopped again there it was again, a girly thought.

I listened again but there was nothing. I inspected the walls half believing I would discover a camouflaged TV screen pumping out subliminal messages but I drew a blank. I hurried back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror at my unkept hair, my unshaven face. Perhaps if I didn’t shave and let my beard grow, it would put an end to this nonsense. I shook my head; the mentor would not like it, bad marks and a longer sentence. If I could convince him that I was willingly travelling along the path that ‘The Authorities’ had mapped out for me then the sooner I would be out of here.
Returning to the bedroom, I hung up the clothes and was about to return to the bathroom to clean myself up when the mentor returned. He looked through the open door and asked’ “Settling in?” I nodded, “Here, the curler set, just plug them in when you are going to use them, you’ll find instructions for their use inside the box. The common room is empty so in a minute or two, we’ll have a cup of tea and you can start asking questions.”

Surprise, surprise, the common room wasn’t pink; they probably ran out of paint. It looked a little like a classroom. The walls were a pale, hint of yellow. Against the far wall stood library sized bookshelves and judging by the bindings and mixture of sizes there was a very eclectic choice of titles. Novels and reference books I imagine. The wall on the left was a double set of French windows and beyond them was a beautifully laid out garden with flowerbeds, lawn, trees and garden chairs. To the left of the garden were a larger lawn and swimming pool complete with sun loungers and a small brick built shed. “The exercise area,” said the mentor. "The garden is for relaxation and study, the lawn and swimming pool for exercise. The shed contains a shower unit and sports equipment; handball, exercise mats, table tennis and lawn croquet,”

“No cricket bat or football?”

“No, they were considered a little too boisterous given the purpose behind this facility.

“The library as we call the bookshelves contain the Greco-Roman classics and philosophers, various educational textbooks suited to the aims of the establishment and classical and modern English literature, Shakespeare, Dickens, the Bronte Sisters, through to modern crime, romance, adventure and fantasy. No pornography or violence.”

The mentor stepped to one side and waited for me to walk further into the room. “You will note there is a laptop on each desk and the parental guide is switched on and blocks anything considered inappropriate. The hatch in the right wall, next to the bookshelves divides this room from the kitchen, which you will be shown later.” He turned, “And this area next to the door is furnished with settees, arm chairs a table and television set. The latter is not allowed to be switched on until 6pm and off at 10.30pm and as with the laptops, access to unsuitable programmes is denied. Finally, you will have noticed that every room and corridor has security cameras. The guards in the reception area monitor those in the corridors. The cameras in here and in each of the bedrooms’ are linked to screens in the mentors’ rooms. The camera in your room is fitted with a red warning light to warn you when it is switched on, it is not our intention to spy on your privacy unless we think there is a need.” He crossed the room to the hatch and opened it, “Barbara, will you bring a pot of tea for two in here please.” Returning he closed the door and waved me to the armchairs, “Sit down and we can start our questions and answers session.”

I was about to ask my first question when there was a knock on the door; the mentor stood, opened it and let Barbara in. She carried a tray of tea things to a coffee table, smiled at me and walked out without saying a word.

My impression was that Barbara was a girl. She wore the same uniform as I but there the resemblance ended’ Barbara’s face was lightly made up. She didn’t need much her complexion was faultless and unless I was mistaken, her breasts were real, there was a hint of cleavage above the top of her wrap-over and their movement when she placed the tray on the table and walked was too natural.

The mentor returned to his chair and sat, “Before you ask the question, Barbara is like you, she has been here two and a half years and will be leaving soon. A job is waiting for her and she has a nice flat and a boyfriend. Now, your first question.”

“What exactly is this place, I know I am being punished for a rape I did not commit but what really happens here?”

“Its full title is The Centre for Adjustment and Female Empathy. The inmates and guards refer to it as The Café.”

“And its purpose?”

“To create an environment that will enable the staff to demonstrate to the inmates the cost of their actions. Rape is a violent act which most often leaves the victim traumatised, and in some cases in need of counselling for some years. There have been cases where a victim has committed suicide after the event and often the perpetrator of the act shows little remorse.

“Such offenders are sent to prison, sometimes for the rest of their lives but others; you are one of those; where there are doubts about a verdict are sent here. In these cases, the authorities have decided that imprisonment is too harsh when one considers that convicts are very prejudiced against rapists and give them a hard time that often leads to hospitalisation and even death. A second type of prisoner sent here is where the gender is ambiguous and may not be suited to a life in either a male or female prison.”

Ambiguous? Is that me? Is my sexuality ambiguous? I was on the point of asking what he meant by ambiguous but changed my mind, I needed more time to think about that but there was one question I had to ask; “So, whilst I am here I will be changed into a girl?”

“Not necessarily, that choice is yours, Barbara chose her path and chose it of her own free will and she still has her male genitals.”

“She-male?”

“That is an often used expression, yes. But she could have left here as a full male or full female but both she and her boyfriend, chose for her to remain as she is. You will have noticed her complexion and hair, her bust, waist and hips; they are all classic female it is only her primary sexual characteristics that are different.”

“She never has an orgasm then?”

The mentor chuckled, “That is a personal question and you will have to ask her.”

“What about these silly clothes? If we are to empathise with women why are we not wearing more feminine clothes, silks, satins, ribbons, lace, the things that normal women wear, the clothes that make her look good not like a sexless office cleaner?”

“To all intents and purposes, this is a school. When the initial meetings of the Café project were held the subject of uniforms was discussed at length. Though technically this is a prison it is also an establishment that has a medical and psychological purpose. The choice of female attire was decided after the aims were established. Initially the prison authorities were going to issue female prison uniforms but on the advice of the psychologists it was decided that these would emphasise the prison side of the Cafe at the expense of the educational. A whole range of options were considered, school uniforms, blouse and skirt day wear and eventually the current ensemble of blue overall were selected which seemed to fit the purpose. The Café is to a large extent self-sufficient, the normal duties of preparing food and keeping the place clean and in good running order are, wherever possible undertaken by the inmates rather than staff. You will be taught domestic science, cooking of course, make-up, deportment, dance, both classical and ballroom, knitting, crochet, flower arranging, fashion and later, if you want, you will be allowed to wear more feminine lingerie, dresses, separates, perfumes and all the other things a woman enjoys.”

That answer stopped me in my tracks, satin or silk lingerie? See through blouses, baby-doll nighties and silk peignoirs – Good Grief!

He stood, “You’ve had a long day and have much to think about, dinner is served in two hours and you have time to shower and begin to get into the role. When dinner is ready a gong is sounded. For tonight you will not have any chores but you will be expected to clean your room before classes tomorrow. Read the schedule sheet pinned to the inner side of the door and there is a notice board in the dining room.” He opened the door and stood aside to allow me to precede him. I was in a daze as I walked down the corridor, ‘pictures of lounging in lingerie, of men standing aside to allow me to precede them, a certain changing of the mentor’s attitude when I was speaking. A covert softness in his voice, mannerisms and body language’ – he had me tagged as a girl already, when does he get around to fucking me? And I forgot to ask the important questions, his name and is there a concealed subliminal broadcast going on. I was having too many unmanly thoughts, ‘getting around to fucking me, the scent of the Camay soap, asking stupid questions about silk lingerie…’
When I got back to my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall; ‘I was sexually ambiguous, was going to be taught a woman’s ways, her skills…what else, what did they think they were doing to me, what right did they have! And they could do it, if I refused to cooperate, they would send me to a standard prison, for five bloody years. If I curtsy politely, smile and talk sweetly, I am out in thirty months. I wasn’t between a rock and a hard place; I was between a quicksand and an alligator infested swamp.’ The tears started.

2

In retrospect, that first day in the Café was slow. It is now Friday and thus far I haven’t made a friend. I wasn’t being standoffish it was simply not having time to socialise during the day, it was lecture after lecture, class after class, and interviews with various members of the staff and two medicals where I had to put up with a series of embarrassing prod this, tug that, squeeze something else and injections.

There were two occasions when I managed to say more than good morning or good night to other girls; the first was dance class where we were being taught and made to practice the ladies steps in ballroom dancing. I am an accomplished ballroom dancer having enjoyed it in my ‘outside’ days but of course I knew only the male steps. Even something as simple as the waltz was an entirely new dance from the woman’s side. Being led in a dance is far more difficult than leading and I was having to think not only of ensuring my feet make the correct moves, but to concentrate on the body and hand pressures that my partner was using to let me know what was coming next. Lose concentration and suddenly you find that instead of following into a reverse turn, you kick each other because you read the signal as a whisk and chassis and go off, each in a different direction. It did allow for a little laughter though. I had Barbara as my partner and she is a good dancer and though we had only a little time to talk, she did say that on Friday evening she would make a point of having a chat and introduce me to the other girls. ‘Other girls?’ Well that’s what they looked like to me. They wore identical outfits as I, were definitely girly in their speech and mannerisms and all of them reasonably attractive. No, more than reasonably attractive, they were pretty and I wasn’t convinced that they were indeed like me but real females, plants perhaps, part of the ‘programming.’

The second time I spoke to one of them was outdoor activities; here I elected to try table tennis which meant hiding in the shed to change into a tennis skirt that was full and pleated and took little spinning or turning to make it flare and expose my briefs and I was having to use one hand to keep the skirt in place which resulted in my losing by quite a margin. One of those girly thoughts popped into my head whilst playing; ‘why don’t they at least let us wear something a little prettier than white cotton briefs?’ My partner in the game was sympathetic, her name was Diane and she told me I would get used to showing too much leg and might even get into the habit of doing it on purpose to attract attention.
But for the rest of the classes, it was please, thank you and have I done this correctly? All the lecturers were female and so too was the Spanish lady who cooked for us on some days. At other times, dinner was prepared and cooked by one of the girls and I dreaded the day when my turn came around, fried eggs and chips were not going to be judged the meal-of-the-week.

I did see the mentor twice, briefly and he told me he was duty mentor this coming weekend and he would be seeing me for another ‘chat’ on Saturday morning and I found myself looking forward to it, ‘he’s handsome, even dishy.’ Another girly thought, ‘Dishy’. Again I forgot to ask his name and my question about subliminal messages, I was a little dithery when he was speaking to me.

At the end of the school day, we had time for home-study, a quick wash and then we met in the kitchen dining area but most of the girls were too tired to want to become involved in chats. After dinner most went back to their rooms to rest and then, after an hour back to the common room for television or other leisure activities. I didn’t have the energy and usually had a shower and went to bed, I certainly didn’t have trouble getting to sleep, in fact I was becoming a sleep junky, I knew I was having lovely dreams but could never remember anything once I awoke.

Now I was waiting for Barbara, I was sitting at one of the desks in the common room and reading Ovid. The other girls were either watching a soap on the box, or chatting in the easy chairs, one, a rather butch type, was at a desk playing a computer game. No Laura Croft in here, it was Sonic the Hedgehog or the Mario Brothers.

“A classical scholar?”

I looked up, it was Barbara and she was smiling and her smile was one that made the sun come out. Looking at her, I couldn’t believe she was once fully male.

“Greco-Roman, yes. I like their poets, philosophers, even the medical books, Hypocrites, Galen, they were so advanced and in tune with the way things are today. Look at Galileo, he didn’t gaze up at the stars and wonder what they were, he studied them and began to understand a little of the universe and our place in it and knew the stars were other worlds not just the eyes of the gods.”

“So ballroom dancing and needle work bore you?”

“Needlework is fine. Admittedly a feminine activity, keeper of the hearth, that sort of thing but I wouldn’t call a man with a sewing needle a panty-waist, he might be a sailor about to stitch a canvas sail or tarpaulin.”

Barbara chuckled, “You have a natural ability at dancing as well.”

“Ballroom, yes but after the waltz lesson?”

“That was nothing, you’ll quickly pick up the ladies steps. You have a natural fluidity of movement and good legs, dancers’ legs, strong muscles, well formed and pretty.”

I blushed and my hand dropped to my knee and caressed its hairless smoothness and then quickly drew my hand away, girly thoughts and girly mannerisms now. “Barbara, is there some sort of subliminal programming going on in here?”

“I’m not supposed to discuss stuff like that but if you promise not to say I told you, the answer is yes, at night when you are asleep. It isn’t something for you to worry about; they are not programming you into becoming a female. The subliminal stuff only goes on for a week or two then it’s stopped. The idea is to reduce any aggressive tendencies and make you more accepting of the lessons you are being taught.” She reached across the table and put her hand on mine, “You must remember why we are in here, rape and sometimes burglary or common theft can be violent actions, in fact rape is an act of violence even when the victim is not otherwise injured.”

And sexual ambiguity I thought but asked; “The injections I have been having?”

“You are putting me on the spot, you should really save these questions for Adam.”

“Adam?”

“Your mentor, Adam Worthington.”

“OK, I’m seeing him tomorrow.”

Barbara winked, “He’s a dish.”

I blushed, changing the subject before I said something I shouldn’t, I asked, “Will you introduce me to the others over the weekend?”

“Yes, that is all except one, Melissa.”

“Have I seen or met her yet?”
“He’s the one playing on the computer.”

“He?”

Barbara nodded and dropped her voice, “It’s not tittle-tattle but there’s something you should know and if I don’t tell you now, Adam will tomorrow. Melissa is a ‘He’; there is nothing feminine about him at all. According to Adam he was sent here by mistake. His case involved violence beyond the rape itself but something went wrong in the court case and instead of getting fifteen years he was sent here. They never allow him to be alone with any of the female staff or us girls at any time. Adam says they are moving him out on Monday. He would have gone sooner but their Psychiatrist has him listed as a woman hater who thinks hurting women is fine. It would appear he is homophobic as well and is not allowed to be alone with us as I said. His being sent here was a mistake caused by the availability of a solitary confinement cell and they wouldn’t risk him mixing with other prisoners, they’d kill him.”

“But couldn’t they have used a police cell, surely he is a serious threat in here, things being relaxed the way they are.”

“Not in his case, he is watched 24/7 and always under escort when out of locked areas. Take a quick look at the camera above the library, it’s trained on him and follows him wherever he goes.”

“He’s wearing the uniform though.”

“Yes, they make him do it to keep him in line but you’ll notice he hasn’t shaved and the uniform is in a pretty gruesome state.”

I nodded, “I’ll keep away then. I met Diane, she beat me at table tennis.”

Barbara laughed, “She told me. Said that if you hadn’t been acting all prim and proper, you might have won the game. You were acting as if you were wearing a see-through thong instead of cotton briefs.”

I grinned, “I was thinking of the thong. By the way, when I went to the stores for extra bits and pieces and that bloody silly pleated skirt, I had to sign a receipt form for them; the storeman said my account would be debited. What does that mean?”

“Whilst you are in here, you get extra work, ironing shirts and replacing buttons for the men in the main prison, pressing the warders uniforms, repairing tears and,” she grinned, “Cleaning the windows. The shirt ironing is for when the prisoners are appearing before a parole board, it makes them look a little more human and improves their chances. There’s other stuff as well and we do the work in our free time, Saturday afternoon, Sunday and occasionally in the evening. They pay us the national minimum and we aren’t given cash unless we can prove we have a need for it. That money goes into your account and when you want a new lippy or a touch of racy lingerie, they get it for you and debit your account. We also use some of the money for extra food, luxury things so that we can have a binge a couple of times a month.”

I ignored the ‘lippy’ and ‘racy lingerie’, “Wine?”

Barbara shook her head, “Forbidden. So are drugs but we’ve never had a problem there, I think by the time we have had our injections and swallowed the pills they issue, we’ve had enough of drugs. Shall we go into the kitchen and have a cup of tea?”
I closed Ovid, “You can take any of these books into your room if you wish, just make a note in the register in case somebody else looks for it.”

“It’s just as well, I wouldn’t dare read all of it in here, it makes me cry.”

Barbara looked sideways at me, “Sad?”

“Very. There’s a poem in there of forbidden love and clandestine meetings between lovers that lead to suicides. Bit like Romeo and Juliet; in fact I am told that it was the poem that inspired Shakespeare to write his play. Real crying time.”

“Who do you identify with, Romeo?”

I shook my head, “It’s not Romeo and Juliet, the original by Ovid was about Thisbe who wanted to marry her boyfriend the handsome Pyramus.”

Barbara smiled, “Pedant. Which then?”

“Thisbe, she was a brunette,” I grinned, “We brunette’s need to stick together.”

“She was beautiful?”

“Yes."

“You said Pyramus was handsome.”

“That is how he is described.”

“Bit like Adam then?”

I turned to her as she was pouring the tea, “Barbara, what are you trying to say?”

She handed the tea to me, pointed at the sugar and said, “Nothing, just trying to compare your Greco-Roman heroes with modern men,” but there was mischief in her eyes.

I put two teaspoons of sugar in my tea and she tut-tutted, “You’ll get fat.”

“And I suppose Adam wouldn’t fall for me if I was fat,” I replied sarcastically, following her to a table.
We sat and sipped our tea, “You said that,” she said suddenly. “You are slim, have drop-dead gorgeous legs and beautiful bone structure, Helen,” she leaned across the table, “There’s lots of men who would fall for you.”

“Barbara, I am not gay.”

“Define gay.”

“Homosexual.”

“Which means?”

“Two people of the same sex having a relationship?”

“Yes. But a woman and a man is not gay?”

“Of course not, that’s heterosexual. What are you getting at, I have a feeling I am being analysed.”

“Nope, not by me, I’m not qualified. But I do know that male and female relationships are not gay and I can see you now and I saw you when you came here, before you changed into the uniform. You were wearing dark slacks, dark blue sweat shirt and black bomber style jacket, yes?”

“Yes, so what.”

“Helen you were walking between the two guards, your elbows were in and your lower arms were slightly out.”
“
That’s the way I walk I suppose, what of it.”

Barbara sighed, “Men walk with their elbows out because they have thicker waists and it is easier for them to swing their arms. Women walk with their elbows in, slimmer waists and their lower arms out because they have wider hips and need to keep their lower arms out to prevent their hands constantly brushing the hips.”

“Nonsense.”

Barbara ignored me; “When you sit, you almost always cross your legs and slide one leg over the other rather than lift it. Men don’t usually cross their legs unless at the ankles with their knees apart or with an ankle hanging over a knee, that way they don’t squeeze their jewels and cause discomfort. You also refer to us as ‘The Girls’ and seem to accept yourself as one of us and unless I have an eye problem, there are signs on your face that you have been experimenting with the cosmetics.”

“You’re saying I am a latent homosexual?”

“No, nothing that simple, I would guess that you may, and I stress may be a latent transsexual.”

“Good Lord!”

“You have other more feminine gestures and movements as well. You pick up a teacup by the handle, use a finger and thumb and sip; men will more often than not grasp the cup, often ignoring the handle and then gulp. You eat with small bites, sip your drinks, touch your hair and often sit with your hands in your lap. Those are feminine traits.”

I was surprised and remained silent for a while whilst I considered these points, my hips were a little wider than normal and I often had trouble buying off-the-peg clothes. Barbara was right but I had never looked at a man and felt desire, though I did think Adam was a bit dishy…could I make love to him? I don’t think so. I shook my head, “I don’t fancy men.”

She reached across the table again and rested her hand lightly on mine, “Don’t fight it one way or the other, let it take its own course, ask Adam to stop the subliminal messages if you like but I can tell you this, I did see you walk and I have seen you do the other things I described and the subliminal stuff we are exposed to wouldn’t make you change your gestures, way of sitting and everything else in three or four days.”

I sat silently and began to feel tears forming in my eyes and brushed them away, “If you are right, what can I do and what about the rape business. I know every convicted criminal is innocent, but I really am. I was on a date with the girl, she invited me back to the place she shares with roomies and took her clothes off as soon as we were in her bedroom. When she was naked, she just lay on her back on the bed and smiled. I stripped and lay beside her and we petted, kissed, caressed and suddenly she took a hold of my cock with one hand and pulled me on top of her with the other and she was the one who guided it into her pussy.”

“Well that’s certainly not rape. What happened?”

“We started screwing and she was encouraging me, once or twice she made little noises and on one occasion, just before it ended she cried out – ‘more, more, don’t stop’ and then, when I was a second or two away from a cumming she suddenly screamed and shouted ‘No! No!

“It was too late for me, I ejaculated and then she screamed again, pushed me off her, picked up her blouse, tore it and then rushed to the door, opened it and shouted out to her flat mates.

“I just lay there stunned wondering what on earth had happened and the next thing I know there are three other girls in the room all shouting at me
and soon after that, the police arrived.

When it went to court, she swore I tore her blouse off and then ripped her panties and both items were offered as evidence. It was confirmed that the DNA of the sperm was mine and that was it. I think, forgetting the rape bit, the fact that I was willing to make love to a girl proves that I’m not latent anything.”

“Helen, I’m so sorry to have said anything, sorry for making you remember such a terrible ordeal, forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, in fact it seems to have helped to be able to talk about it with someone, it sort of eases the frustration I feel at having been found guilty and sentenced. Do you believe me?”

“Yes, oh I believe you. I don’t think you are the sort of person who could have raped anybody but what was her motive, was she a thrill seeker, man hater, what was it?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know, I don’t even know what happened to her after the trial, never saw her again. I suppose I carry a faint hope that her conscience will prevail one day and she will go to the police and tell them the truth but I’m not holding my breath.”

“Have you told Adam any of this?”
“No, I’ve not had the right moment to bring it up.”

“I think you should when you’ve settled in.”

In the next chapters, Helen has an interview, wishes for M&S knickers and finds a sister.

[email protected]

Vesta’s Hearth 3 and 4
Volume 1
By Frances Penwiddy

Copyright©Frances Penwiddy, 2014

Vesta’s Hearth is a work of fiction. Any similarity to people living or dead is coincidental.
This novel is not considered suitable reading matter for minors.

Helen has an interview, wishes for M & S knickers and finds a sister.

3

He did ask the next morning. I had finished cleaning my room and just out of the shower when there was a knock on the door. I was naked, lotioned and my hair was still under the shower cap and in rollers, I called out, “Give me a minute, I’m just out of the shower.”

“Take your time, Helen but as soon as you are presentable, will you come over to my office.”

Take my time! Taking my time was to panic, I sat in front of the vanity mirrors, made my face up minimally, thank God I had been practising all week, almost ripped the shower cap from my head and brushed out my hair. It looked nice, soft curls and a fringe over my forehead ending a little above my eyebrows. I turned my head every way, kept adjusting the mirrors and once I was satisfied, I studied my reflection. I had almost perfected the look I wanted, someone who would have found a part as an extra in the Stepford Wives, ultra-feminine, with a little more help with my hair and make-up I would look presentable.

I dressed hurriedly, I didn’t even think twice about it when I put the skirt on, one of four I had been given on my visit to the store, two shorter length and two like the one I had selected, dark grey, box pleated, purely functional. Until now I had worn the wrap over and a T shirt top but that wouldn’t do for my interview with Adam so I took one of my new shirts out of the wardrobe only to discover that it wasn’t a shirt, the buttons were on the wrong side, it was a short sleeved blouse, I shrugged, even better, got the hang of the buttons and did it up. I had no time to touch up my make-up or brush my hair again, my blouse and skirt were in place and I glanced in the mirror for a final check. What I would give for a visit to M & S or better still, Agent Provocateur. I sat down, placed my hands on my lap, dropped my head and looked at my hands. The pale pink nail varnish looked good but they blurred as tears started to form. What was happening to me, ‘wishing I had some pretty lingerie to wear for Adam.’ What on earth were those hidden messages doing to my brain whilst I slept. What did he mean sexually androgynous? My hands were soft, so was my hair, but there were lots of men with soft hair, soft hands and soft skin. Barbara had confused me a little more with her comments about my mannerisms. I pressed on the front of my skirt, they were all there, male things, girls didn’t have bits like that, they had tits and labia. I didn’t, I was male not female there was nothing androgynous about it. I wiped away the tears, checked my make-up yet again, stood and straightened my skirt. Adam can start explaining to me today, now, this very minute, before anything else. I had doubts about who I was and he had to tell me, had to explain what ‘The Authorities’ or him or whoever, where doing to me. I might be a convicted criminal but I had rights and I was going in there to tell him in no uncertain manner that it was my intention to exercise those rights.

I slipped on my shoes, opened the door and strode across the corridor not even bothering to shut the door behind me. His was open; I stood on the threshold and knocked. Adam looked up from the file he was reading, stood and walked around his desk and took a chair from the wall, “Come in Helen, come in and sit down.”

I opened my mouth to say something hostile but god, ‘he was dishy,’ so I just walked in and sat.
“Your hair looks nice, it compliments your face beautifully.”

“Adam Worthington or Doctor Worthington if that is your correct title, please don’t tell me I am beautiful, that I have drop-dead-gorgeous legs, super bone structure and a lovely figure.” He had walked around the desk and remained standing, waiting for me to finish. “I am a male,” I stood, lifted my skirt with my left hand and took hold of the waist elastic of my briefs and pulled it out, “Why don’t you come and see for yourself.”

Expecting anger I was surprised when he smiled and said, “I know that, I did biology at school. I am a psychiatrist so Doctor is correct but I prefer Adam. Now sit down and tell me what’s happened, you’re upset and I want to know why. Has somebody here been making unkind remarks, insulting you?”

I shook my head and looked down at my hands, folded in my lap again and I noticed a small snag in the hem of the skirt, crossed my legs and pulled at the hem to hide it. When I looked up, Adam was watching me, “Well, what happened?”
“Everything. I was speaking with a friend yesterday evening…”

“One of the girls?”

“Yes, she told me I had lovely legs, good bone structure, pretty. She also intimated that I might be transsexual because I walked like and had many of the mannerisms of a woman and then she told me about the subliminal messages in my room at night, whilst I am asleep and said I should ask about the injections I was given during my medicals and now I don’t know who I am or even what I am and I want you to stop it, let me sort myself out.”

“Barbara?”

“I didn’t give you her name.”

“You didn’t have to, it was hoping she was going to become your friend and don’t worry about snitching on her. Somebody was going to befriend you and tell you something, I am glad it was Barbara, she is one I can trust to do things gently."

“What she told you is correct, there are subliminal messages piped into your room at night and as for the injections they were the flu jab, anti-tet, estrogen and because of your general physical condition, run down as one might expect after your recent ordeal, vitamins.”

“Estrogen is a hormone, a sex hormone.”

“You must remember, Helen that this is a fairly relaxed regime and we can’t take chances until we have fully evaluated newcomers. The estrogen is indeed a female hormone but the dose was weak, not something that would produce secondary sexual characteristics but would make you more receptive to the subliminal messages. Those are not brainwashing to make you go girly; they are there to help you understand the education you are receiving here. An education,” he shrugged, “Or adjustment to make you understand exactly what a woman is; something that will make you realise that women are people and need to be respected, not exploited sexually. They are also programmed to reduce any tendencies towards violence.”

I sighed, “I didn’t rape her.”

“Yes I know you didn’t commit the crime. Not ‘know’, ‘believe’ would be a better word. Believe it strongly enough for me to arrange to speak with the judge who officiated at your trial and get the details and if necessary re-open the investigation.”

“You could do that?”

“I’ve already arranged to speak to the judge and the police inspector in charge of the investigation. If my beliefs prove correct then the conviction will be quashed and you will be released as quickly as possible, which is very quickly, the day following the decision in fact. But, it will take time, a month, perhaps longer, in the meantime, I will instruct that the hormone shots and the subliminal regime be stopped,” he smiled, “We can always double the dose if I am proved wrong and you are guilty.”

“I’m not, I could never do a thing like that, not harm somebody.”

“Yes I believe that. Do you remember doing a written test when you came here on Monday?”

“Yes an IQ test wasn’t it, why was that necessary?”

“Well it wasn’t exactly an IQ test, it was a test to check the sexual orientation of your brain.”

“Huh, you mean rapist – non rapist?”

“No, it was to measure the male/female balance of your brain.”

“I’m lost. My brain is male, it must be, I am male.”

Adam smiled, “It’s not that simple. Every foetus when it forms in the womb is female; as it develops the physical sexual characteristics begin to form. There are theories that the brains of males and females are different, physically different and other theorists claim there are no differences. It’s my opinion that though physically the brains are similar, there are differences in the way a brain, as it becomes educated decides, under the influence of hormones whether it wants to be boy or girl, those hormones then change the sexual characteristics of the brain because males and females require different things. Some are part of the genetic coding that goes back to the early Homo sapiens, the first of the Stone Age people, some of it is more relevant to modern times but I believe along with many others that the brains do work differently. A survey was done some years ago in which the heads of London taxi drivers were measured and it was discovered that the areas at the sides of their heads were slightly larger than in other occupations. The areas that were larger are where the brain processes the information required for good navigational skills, something that London taxi drivers uniquely train for and the parts of their brains they used to find their way about became slightly larger.

“So the brain adapts and if we project this into the population as a whole I believe that as we enter life, become educated and learn the necessary skills of survival and improvement, the brain changes and shows amongst other things different ways of processing the information we need to enable us to live in our environments and complete the tasks we undertake. As I said, some of this ability we are born with, some we acquire throughout our lives.

“Men, because they once had to go out and hunt woolly mammoths needed efficient navigational skills, good spatial awareness for hunting large and very dangerous creatures. Women on the other hand needed to be able to stay near their hearths, cook, make clothes, look after children and prepare medicines so they needed brain functions that would encourage these activities and help them to multi-function.

“These days of course, men don’t have to go out and hunt for food but they do have the same primary drive to earn the money to buy food and when you think about it, there is not a great deal of difference. A man needs to bring home the food his family needs, be it cash for shopping or the hind leg of a mammoth. Women still need to do two or three jobs at the same time when in their homes and have a desire to produce babies without which the species would not survive. I have never met a man who would willingly experience a pregnancy, the male brain isn’t geared for it but a woman’s is.

“Result, men are better navigators, read maps more easily and generally know roughly where they are. Women can cook a meal, watch over a baby, read a recipe and listen to a radio programme all at the same time and do it whilst a foetus is developing in their wombs. That, Helen is what the test was looking for, to what extent does your brain contain the characteristics of the opposite sex.” He opened a folder and pulled out a sheet of paper, the results of your test show that female characteristics substantially outweigh male ones. Point to the north,”

I had to stop and think about it and then making a decision, I pointed.

“That’s west. If you were making your way from Chichester to here across country you would probably end up in New York rather than south west Sussex.”

“And this means?”

“Coupled with your ability to do more than one thing at a time with your hands and, I have noticed, you are reasonably happy using your hands for one task whilst you are speaking of something else, add the observations made by Barbara, I would say that you are more female than male, despite what your body indicates.”

“You are saying I am a female in a male body, a transsexual?”

“No. I would need a lot more evidence before making that diagnosis but I am saying you may be happier as a woman than as a man.”

“So what do I do now, spend the rest of my life wondering if I would be happier in a pair of trousers and boxers or a skirt and panties?”

“It is a question that has three basic answers. Stay male; change and become female; or simply cross dress and pretend to be either as the mood suits. I and the other people here will help you whilst you are still with us and I will stop the hormone and subliminal treatments immediately. I am ready to talk to you and arrange for medical and psychiatric assessments’ anytime if you wish.” He sat back and waited for me, not prompting, not pushing, just giving me time. I must have sat thinking for a good ten minutes and not once did he hurry me but I didn’t seem to know what I wanted. I stood up, “I need to think about it.”

“Of course, take all the time you need and come back whenever you need. I believe that ‘Society’ has wronged you with the conviction and because of that miscarriage of justice, I feel that you are owed and I shall ensure you get all the help you need.”

He reached for the telephone, “I’ll put a hold on the subliminal stuff and hormone shots immediately.”

I had reached the door and turned, “Did Barbara go through this?”

“I cannot discuss the personal details of another patient but the circumstances in your case need me to say something. You and Barbara are so alike you could be sisters.”

“I want to speak with her but I have to do my Saturday chores.”

“Forget them, you are under treatment and that means I can excuse you. Go and see Barbara, and if she is willing to talk, tell her she is excused chores as well. There are a lot of people about on Saturday mornings so if the two of you want privacy, use one of your rooms, close the door so you can talk without worrying about others listening. Tell her to look in here first.”

I nodded at the telephone; “Don’t cancel the messages and shots until I have spoken to Barbara.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded and left the room to make my way to the kitchen but before I did, I crossed the corridor closed my own door and stood for a moment with my hand on the doorknob. Suddenly I felt better, I was in a prison, a different kind of prison granted but I could safely leave a door open and sleep without needing to lock myself in; this is a safe place all I had to do was make up my mind as to whether my new address should be Miss or Mr Confused, c/o The Café, Sussex.

4

“Love to chat,” said Barbara, “And not because I get out of chores.”

“But with two of us missing, won’t that make it harder on the others?”

“We’re nearly finished, they won’t mind and we can make it up by covering for them when they want a bit of time off. Your room you say?”

“That’s Adam’s suggestion and he wants you see him before we start.”

“Your hair needs a trim, it looks good but a trim would make it nicer, it’ll get rid of the split ends. Wait here a moment,” she said when we reached my room and she disappeared into the room next door, returned quickly and handed me a little case, “Here take these in whilst I see Adam, they are my hairdressing things.”

I went into the room and placed her case on the dressing table and ran my fingers through my hair. I pulled a lock away from my head and bent closer to the mirror. My hair certainly seemed fuller, more bounce but split ends, what were they? I let my hair drop and shook my head and the locks fell back into place. I looked around the room and realised I didn’t have any soft drinks, not even bottled water to offer Barbara, some hostess I was…’hostess?’ I hurried down the corridor to the kitchen. Maria was there, “Are there any soft drinks I can take to my room?”

Maria held a finger to her lips, opened the fridge, reached to the back and produced a bottle of white wine, “You not tell anybody.” She opened a cupboard and produced a pair of flutes, “Not crystal but nice for your first guest. Barbara is good girl, she will help you.” She placed the glasses in my free hand and went back to work.
I hurried back to my room and just made it inside when I heard Adam’s door open and Barbara came in. She looked around and said, “You need some pictures on the wall and a couple of vases with flowers.”

“And where do I get flowers from?”

She grinned, “This is a prison and we’re criminals, we can steal a few from the garden, they won’t notice. And if they do, we can tell them it’s girly therapy.”

“And then we can pop down to the National Gallery and ‘borrow’ a few Turners or French Impressionists?”

She nodded, “Good idea, we’ll nick a couple of Pre-Raphaelites whilst we’re at it. Have you been up to see Maria?” she asked nodding at the wine.
“Yes, she’s a sweetie, I asked for soft drinks and she magically produced this from the fridge.”

“Maria is a doll, now sit,” she pointed at the chair, took the wine out of my hand and went into the bathroom and I heard her filling the vanity basin with cold water to keep the wine chilled.

She returned and stood behind me looking at my reflection in the mirror and playing with my hair, sweeping it over to the left, then the right, piling it on top, sweeping the fringe both ways, breaking it up into short bangs and then she went around it with a comb, studying the ends and tut-tutting.

“How bad is it?”

“It would look superb on a bag lady.”

“That bad?”

“Nope, I’m kidding, you have lovely hair. Where did you get the know-how for the styling?”

“It isn’t styled, I just used the curlers.”

“Yes, I know but where did the style, the way you’ve curled it come from.”

“Me. I read the instructions in the manual to find out how to use the curlers, which way to wind them, how tight, that sort of thing, then I washed it, used a conditioner and curled.”

“When?”

“Monday evening.”

“And you slept with the curlers in?”

“Yes, that’s what it said in the instructions. I didn’t have a hairnet though and in the morning two or three had come loose but when I brushed my hair out, it didn’t show so I suppose they were in long enough.”

“You curl every night?” as she spoke she opened a flap in her case rummaged around and put three hairnets on the dressing table.
“I only put one or two in at night, just where it seems to need it.”

“Just one or two? And your hair has kept the curl all this time!”

“No, I washed it again on Thursday and repeated the process.”

“Jesus, I wish I had your hair. I have to do mine every night just to keep a soft wave in it, when I get out of here, my first job is a perm.”

“Is it a good style for my face?”

“A bit retro, fifties or early sixties but it suits you. Yes, keep it that way for now its easy maintenance but you’ll need a hairspray for when you go out or it will drive you mad blowing about, you’ll finish up looking like Medusa,”

“I’m not likely to be going out except in the garden and then all I’ll need is a hairnet.”

“Wrong kiddo, I used my charm on Adam, we are having a girly shopping day on Tuesday. All day if we want it.”

“Shopping? Outside? In a mall?”

“Yes. All we need to do is sort out where. We don’t even have to pay for a cab, I’ll get my boyfriend Paul to run us around.”

I shook my head, “I can’t, Barbara,” I spread my arms, “I’m not walking around a high street or shopping mall in these, I’d look ridiculous and so for that matter would you. Gorgeous as you are, the white blouses and pleated skirts would make us look like a pair of truants from an adult education college.”

She giggled, “Might get us some action looking like that.”

“You said shopping.”

“Stand up,” I did and then, “Turn around slowly, “I have a size twelve blouse and skirt, not sexy but pretty enough and smart, They would fit you and we can get a bra and boob forms from the stores to give you a bust, 36B I reckon. All you need is a jacket and I think Diane has one we could borrow.”

“I thought only uniforms were permitted in here?”

“They are but when we’ve done a bit of time, they let us buy better clothes and we are allowed out, with an escort of course. The guard is in case we fall in love and run off with a window cleaner or something like that.”

“Or each other.” I added.

“Not me, I’ve got Paul and if I ran off with one of the girls in here, that would make me lesbian.”

“I said that yesterday but you said going with a man wasn’t gay.”

“It isn’t, its hetero but we are all girls, well Melissa isn’t, but for the rest of us, if we had a relationship with another girl in here, that would be lesbian, RIGHT!” She glared at me so I sat down, I was already excited about the shopping trip, dresses, separates, accessories, lingerie, if that wasn’t girly, then what was. I had a feeling that Tuesday was going to be my day of decisions “RIGHT!” she repeated.

I nodded, “Right.” And another snag popped into my head, “What about money, I haven’t been here long enough to build up any credit.”

“Don’t you have any outside money, credit cards, debit cards, anything?”

“Yes, I’m reasonable well-off and when I handed everything over to them, there was a little over three hundred in cash, two credit cards with loads of credit and my debit card. I’m not sure about my debit card though, there have been standing orders and direct debits going out of the account and I haven’t been able to check it or make any transfers.”

“Have you set up on-line banking?”

“Yes, of course.”

“No problem then, if you need to, we can go to a library and ask to use the public computers and you can sort your accounts out. Anyway, from what Adam has said, you’ll be out of here soon and there’s no point in spending fortunes on fashion if you’re going back to your old ways.”

There was a question in the statement. “Yes,” I agreed “But I think Tuesday will be the day I decide.”

“Helen, kiddo, your birthday is August 27th, you will be twenty-nine. Mine was last April and then I was twenty-nine, that makes me your big sister and let me tell you, as your big sister, you have already made the decision but you don’t know it yet.”

“And what is it?”

“I can’t say, it’s the paradox effect, if I tell you, you might change what is preordained just to be awkward and if you did that, the paradox effect would destroy the universe.”

I laughed, “Okay, Big Sis but there’s still a snag. The Prison Authorities here have all my personal stuff including my cash and cards, how do I get it back, I’m not free yet?”

“Leave it to Adam, he’ll fix it up by having a word with the Governor.” She took my hand and looked at the nails, “They’re neat enough but let them grow out and we can get Maeve to give you a real manicure soon.”

“Maeve?”

“Our Celtic girl, her father was a Highlander and if you saw the magic she performs on nails you would believe she had pixie blood. She’s getting out soon and is going to be a beautician. She’s been attending courses at a day college once a week.”

“They do seem to be a bit laid back here, letting people out as they do.”

“There selection is very careful and they don’t often make mistakes like Melissa. Once you’ve been here a couple of years, they do try to arrange things so that you have something to go out to. Even the girls who want to switch back are helped.”

“Are there many of them, switch-backs I mean?”

Barbara frowned and thought for a minute, “I’ve never thought about that before but now you’ve mentioned it, I can recall only two.” She stood and went to her case, “Back to work, I want you to lean back, close your eyes and get ready for a few minutes of agony, I’m doing your brows. How would you like them; just thinned a bit or a high arch that would give you a permanent surprised look…?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Okay, how?”

“Grace Kelly.”

“Wow, you are retro. Got a picture?”

“There’s one. I’ve book marked the page in the magazine in the bedside table drawer.”

Barbara crossed the room opened the drawer and took out the magazine and looked at the picture and slowly walked back, turned me to face her, she placed the picture alongside my face and nodded, “She is a beauty and you have the same shaped face, It’ll work. Let’s do it and don’t scream when I pluck the brows out, I might jump and pluck out an eye.”

I didn’t lose a single eye and when Barbara had finished and made one or two make-up enhancements, she stepped back studied my face for a moment and nodded, “You’re going to turn heads, Helen, take a look.”

I looked into the mirror and opened my eyes in surprise, Barbara was right, I was going to turn heads, the face that looked back at me could only be described as beautiful and would remain so even when I had cleansed the makeup off. “I don’t know what to say, you’re a genius.”

“Dead right I am but like most great artists I need a good canvas to work on and you are just that. The dinner bell is going shortly, let’s go and see what the others think.”

“No, let’s show it to Adam first.”

“Really?”

I looked at her ready to make a retort but she was right, I wanted to hear Adam’s approval, “Really.”

We opened the door and crossed to his and Barbara knocked and we heard Adam call ‘Come-in’ but Barbara held me back, shook her head and knocked again. There was movement in the room, we heard his footsteps and then the door opened, he looked at Barbara first with a frown on his face and then switched to me and the frown vanished, “Helen?”

Barbara chuckled, “Real cracker isn’t she and after only a few days of your subliminal propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda and a cracker is something that is pulled apart at Christmas.”

“Just you wait until Tuesday evening when she’s dressed up.”

“Ah yes, the shopping expedition,” he stood back, “Come on in, I have something for you.”

We walked into the room and his hand rested on my shoulder for a moment, “Barbara isn’t pressurising you is she?”

“Yes,” I answered, “But I love it.”

He smiled and said; “You do look beautiful.” And I nearly swooned but didn’t, I just thought of the shopping trip and kept on my feet with just a fleeting touch of giddiness.

“Don’t be in a rush to make any decisions, Helen, take your time.”

I nodded, “Will Tuesday evening be okay?”

He glanced at Barbara, “Do I detect a conspiracy?”

She shrugged, “Helen will do what Helen wants and if you want to organise a five-a-side footy match in the garden to put the other side’s case, we’ll go along with it.”

“That won’t be necessary. Now the shopping trip; I have had a word with the panel, given them the facts and told them of my misgivings and they have expressed their support and have sent these to you,” he picked up a bulky brown envelope and gave it to me, “Open it, check it and sign the receipt inside.”

I opened it; it was my credit cards, wallet and keys to my apartment. “I can have them back before I am released?”

“In view of the circumstances yes but I would advise you leave them with me and I’ll keep them in the safe until you require them, but it’s up to you.”
I offered the envelope back, “Keep them until Tuesday if you would.”

“Aren’t you going to check them?”

“I fanned out the cards and said, it’s all there.”

“The money shouldn’t you count it?”

I fanned out the bank notes, rattled the small amount of change still in the envelope and smiled at him; “It’s all there as well.”

He shrugged took the envelope and placed it back on the desk, the dinner gong went and I cursed, I wanted to stay in his office a little longer.
“Better get along and show yourself off to the others, I understand a little about the vanity of women.”

We turned to the door and Barbara said over her shoulder, “We only do it for the men.” And we hurried down to the kitchen, Barbara said in a quiet voice, “He was impressed.”

“Are you sure it was totally genuine and not sympathy for my predicament?”

“Predicament? You’re having the time of your life. It was genuine, you made a hit.”

“Barbara!”

“Just wait until the others see you.”

We walked in and for a moment or two, nobody took much notice, people were coming in and going out at all times during the weekend so two people coming in was nothing of note, that is until Diane looked and stared. “Helen, is that you?”

Maeve who was carrying a tureen to the table glanced over, opened her eyes wide, hurriedly put the tureen on the table and stepped forward a few paces, “You’ve been out for a make-over!”

“Nope,” answered Barbara, “Just a few touch-ups I did for her.”

Maeve glared at her, “That’s my job.”

“That’s right and Helen wants you to do a full job for her on Tuesday morning.”

She looked at me, “You do?”

“Yes, I do, the full works.”

They both came over and walked around me staring, “Blimey,” said Maeve, “You are something else. You come in on Monday, do nothing, say nothing and then you spring this on us. I’ve a good mind to slip my hand up your skirt and check to see if you aren’t a genetic girl.”

“She isn’t.” answered Barbara, “I can vouch for that.”

“Oh can you. You two been at it?”

“Diane, please, you know I’m in love with Paul and we’re setting up together when I get out of here and Helen isn’t gay.”

“I can believe that,” said April from where she was sitting, “Anybody looking like that could take her pick of the men.”

I shook my head in disbelief, if I had a man in bed with me for the night I was straight, if I had another T or genetic girl that was lesbian. What happens if I switch back when I get out? Would I be straight or gay whatever I did, perhaps both. Don’t go down that street, I told myself and to stop them, I said, “I’m hungry.” So we sat and had our dinner, of Melissa, there was no sign thank goodness; I don’t think I could have handled any snide remarks. Dinner took twice its normal time because everybody was asking questions and then everybody stopped eating to listen to my reply, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much attention and I was enjoying myself until somebody, Maeve or April I think asked’ “Have you got a boyfriend?”

“No,” I said, “Yes,” said Barbara. “No,” I insisted glaring at her.”

“Sorry girls, I’ve let a secret out of the bag, even Helen doesn’t know she’s falling in love yet.”

“Barbara, please.”

We had finished eating by now and I stood up, “As Barbara and I got out of chores this morning, we will clear up and do the dishes.” I started clearing the table before Barbara had a chance to object and the others started to leave and go into the common room but Maeve and Diane came and gave me a hug, April a kiss on the cheek and I started to feel the tears coming and when they had left, I sat down and started to cry.

Barbara sat beside me, placed her arm around my shoulders and hugged me close and I rested my head on her shoulder and cried for quite a while and when the tears eventually stopped, I sat up straight, grabbed a paper napkin, wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

“Nice girls aren’t they,” Barbara said as she stood and began clearing the table.

I smiled, “I have a family in here now and I hated this place on Monday.”

She carried a pile of dishes over to the washer and returned for more, “You’ve made my blouse wet but I will suffer it, that’s what big sisters are for, to be put upon.”

I stood up and started to help, “Sorry but I was an orphan at twenty one, no brothers and sisters and had to make it on my own. I didn’t even have a regular girlfriend, no real friends, just lots of acquaintances and all this has shown me what I have missed all these years.”

“You like it here then?”

I nodded and started to load the dishwasher.

“When the cycle finishes, put the pots and pans in this drying rack and the plates and cutlery in the cupboard, I’ll be back in a tick, I’ll have to change my blouse.”

“Leave that one in my room, I’ll wash it out for you.”

“No need I am going to squeeze the tears out and keep them in a little perfume bottle and when I am old and married, I shall get it out and remember you.”

“We won’t still be friends then?”

“You’ll be out of here soon and then I will and I suppose we will go our separate ways. I want to remember you, Helen.”

“I feel the same, I don’t want to leave and never see you again.”

“You could always get a flat in Chichester or Brighton, Paul and I are setting up around here. We would be close then and could meet once a week.”
“I have an apartment in Chichester but I don’t want to go back there, it isn’t my home anymore, not after what has happened, I want to change things I felt my face light up, “I could get the other girls to share when they get out. Rent a house that would be nice.”

“You still have a decision to make, so wait until Tuesday before you make plans. See you in the common room in a minute,” and she left. I waited for the cycle to finish and passed the time sitting at the table and thinking. Had I reached the decision and was I attracted to Adam? I couldn’t make up my mind for certain and there was the crying, I seemed to have become emotional and hormone treatment can do that I was told but I was supposed to be on a low dose, could it be the reason and if it was the reason I was crying and being emotional then can I trust any of my emotions? I needed to talk to Barbara again but not tonight, I had had enough for one day, too much to take in, Sunday would do, the weather forecast was good and it might be a time to sit in the garden and try not to do anything that would set me off on another roller coaster of emotional responses. I wouldn’t even read Ovid. I would Shower, dress, clean my room, help with whatever needed to be helped with and then sit, enjoy the garden and if the opportunity arose, talk to Barbara about emotional responses and hormones. I must avoid Adam as well, if I was attracted to him then it could cause problems, perhaps he might find himself in trouble because I suppose that technically at least, I was his patient and Barbara who did seem rather intuitive, had hinted that he was responding to me.

In the next chapters, Cooking and learning about Two Spirit New Girls and the promised outing to a world of lace, silk and a lecture on beginning a trousseau.

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Vesta's Hearth 5 and 6
By
Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012

This is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Cooking lessons, a pretty pinny, Two Spirit New Girls, a chat with Barbara and good news.

5

“How good you cook?” Maria looked me up and down. “You learn how to make you beautiful and will make man happy but to keep love you learn to feed man well or he leave.”

“I can’t really cook. Well eggs and chips, sausages and mash, stuff like that and if I’m pushed, spaghetti bolognaise from supermarket sauces, not much else.”

“That bad food will make you fat like Maria,” she patted her stomach “But Maria not interested in men now, had three husbands in Spain, two died and the last, he thought more of wine than Maria and never work so I send him away and come to England to teach English how to cook good food, fresh food, plenty fish, fruit and vegetables. So now Maria teach you. Roast lamb, roast and boiled potatoes, spinach, broccoli and peas and then good girls who eat dinner have fresh fruit and ice cream.”

“I know how to slice or dice fruit,” I replied hopefully.

“Good then Maria do that if you already know how and I will teach you to prepare vegetables, roast and make sauce.”

“Maria, if I cook the Sunday roast the girls will throw it at us.”

She wagged a finger in my face, “If Maria show you, you will cook good. Maria show April, Barbara, Maeve and Diane and they cook good, April best, she cook English and Spanish and next I teach her Italian and then Chinese. I will teach you same.”

I sighed, “Why not throw in French and sushi as well.”

“Okay do that if you want.”

I wasn’t going to win this one and the sooner I became a cordon bleu chef, the quicker I was going to get my thinking time in the garden.
So my first formal lesson in cooking began and Maria was fun to work with. I enjoyed the experience of cooking something more complex than a burger. Maria had a small cupboard where she kept her personal cooking utensils and just before we put the lamb in the oven, she went to it and came back with something in her hands, “Take of apron, not good for you. Quick now, take off.”

I did as she asked and removed the white cook’s apron and then looked at her, “Turn around.”

Obediently I did as I was bid and I felt her hands reach over my head, “Close eyes.”

I did that, expecting her to put some sort of cook’s hair net over my hair and then I felt something slide over my head and whatever it was, rested on my shoulders and then fell down my front. I still stood there with my eyes closed expecting a hat or net but Maria was fiddling around at the rear of my waist. “Now open eyes, much better now.” I opened them and looked down and started to laugh. Hanging down my front was a new pinnie, the bodice was heart shaped, edged with lace and the whole thing was printed with colourful flowers and fruit. There was a lace edged pocket and without being able to see, I knew Maria had tied the waist tapes in a bow.

“You like it? Much better than ordinary one, suits you, is pretty, yes? Come look,” and she grabbed me by the hand and took me next door into the common room where there was a freestanding mirror beside the lecture board and she stood me in front of it. “Yes, look good, pretty like you.”

I turned to her and gave her a hug, “Maria, I love you, you make me feel so happy and I want to cook with you every day.”

She smiled, “Good, now come we have work to do.” And back to the cooking we went with me looking down every ten seconds to make sure I hadn’t any stains on the pinnie.

The roast was in, the vegetables and fruit prepared and Maria called a halt, “Now we sit for while and have coffee until time for vegetables to cook.”
“You sit, Maria, I’ll make coffee,” I smiled, “It’s something else I know how to cook.”

“Good, then you cook coffee and I’ll find secret biscuits but you only have two or get fat.”

I had just finished pouring the coffee when Diane walked into the kitchen, “My look at you, really getting into the part. Where did you get that pinnie?”

“Maria lent it to me, I think it makes me into a tidier cook because I’m afraid to get it dirty.”

Maria laughed, “Is true, Helen is good cook, learn quick, soon will be perfect wife.”

“She hasn’t got a lover yet and you’re marrying her off.”

“She not have lover, she keep herself for husband, be a good girl.”

“I’ve got just the shoes to go with the look, four inch strappy sandals, white, I’ll go get them.”

“I can’t wear heels, I’ll fall off, I’ve never ever worn them.”

Diane shrugged, “I’ll put them in your room and you’d better practice cos you’ll be wearing a pair on Tuesday, I have the jacket as well, I’ll leave it for you to try on,” and she was gone before I could object to the four inch heels.

I sat down and took a sip of coffee and obeying Maria’s instructions, I placed only two biscuits on my plate. “Maria?” I asked, “Do you like working here in a prison full of T girls?”

Maria smiled and for a couple of minutes used a biscuit to chase a second one around her plate and then she looked at me and smiled again. “Not a prison, no this is place where people discover who they are. Here is lovely people, lovely girls just like my niece Isabella.”

“Pretty name, is she here in England?”

“No, she with family in Mexico.”

“You come from Mexico?”

“No family all from Spain, Sister go live with husband in Mexico, he important man. Two childrens, two nieces for me, Concepcion and Isabella, Isabella like you, New Girl.”

“New Girl. That sounds so much better than T Girl.”

Maria nodded, nibbled at a biscuit, sipped her coffee and frowned, “At first Isabella had much troubles but my brother in law and sister loved her much and he sorted problem with local people.” She chuckled, “When he sorts problems, they are sorted forever, now Isabella happy girl and have three boyfriends.”

“Three!”

“She twist man round finger and keeps boys on hop. You do same if you want to.”

“Not just yet,”

“Not easy to learn who you are but you will adjust and be happy. When Isabella had troubles, father go to a friend, good friend, influential friend, he Indian Chief,” she started laughing then. “Chief come into village where Isabella live, he come on horse with all feathers and forty Indian braves with tomahawks and arrow bows and they find Isabella walking from shop and surround her and get of horses and kneel in a circle round her. Then they lift hands in air and bow heads to ground and begin Indian dance with much whooping. Tell people of village that Isabella is Two Spirit and Indian Goddess,” she leaned across table and said quietly, “Many Indians do believe girls like you have two spirits and hold them in great esteem.”

“What happened then?”

“Indians do more dance and Chief goes to Isabella and places band around head and puts eagle’s feather in band and call her Great Two Spirit Woman then they get on horses and leave with more whooping. I was visiting then and it was so funny, now people love Isabella and go to her for help sometimes because they believe she can speak to Indian Spirit Gods, Manitou.”

“And your brother-in-law got the Indians to do it?”

“At first they do it for him yes, then when they saw her beauty, they did it for themselves. Now she has two birthdays, one when she was born from mother and second when she is born a New Girl and they always come to village with gifts and every year she goes to stay with them for a month.”

“Maria, that’s a lovely story.”

“It is why I like work here, Two Spirit Girls are special for me as well and I want to show Isabella how much I love her. Come now, enough of chit-chat, we cook vegetables and you will be my Two Spirit Girl, like Isabella.”

The Sunday lunch was a success because Maria kept us enthralled with her stories of the Indian Chief and Two Spirit Girls and the second reason was the meal. Though it was Maria who had been the Chef De Cuisine, she was lavish in her praise and insisted that I had a magic touch and the credit was all mine. I wished she hadn’t because I had a feeling I was going to be lumbered with the job every time we had a ‘binge’ meal.
After everything had been cleared away, Maria came to me and said, “I finish now and go to church this evening and pray to Virgin Mother for you and I will pray to the Manitou as well.”

I felt the tears beginning and just had time to get out into the garden and claim a deckchair under the oak tree. I had a song thrush for company and his serenading made my eyelids heavy and I drifted into a nap.

I wasn’t asleep long and when I opened my eyes, the thrush had gone but there was somebody sitting beside me. I turned my head and Barbara smiled, “That was a great lunch but you only had one roast and one boiled potato.”

“It was Maria, she wouldn’t let me have any more, said I had to keep a good figure or I wouldn’t find a husband of wealth and power.”

“She’s adopted you I think. Wangled you a bottle of forbidden wine and then gives you a pretty pinny.”

I looked down, “Oh, I forgot to give it back.”

“Don’t worry about it, she won’t mind if you want to wear it when you cook all our breakfasts tomorrow.”

“Me. That’s not fair, I cooked today.”

“Yea but nobody else has the magic touch.”

I grinned at her, “The magic touch only works on roast lamb Sunday lunches. Which reminds me, there are leftovers if anybody is still hungry.”

“They’ve had their fill but don’t worry, if it isn’t eaten this evening. You can produce a magic touch lamb curry tomorrow.” I threw a spare cushion at her.

We lounged in the chairs in companionable silence for fifteen minutes and then Barbara asked, “Any more questions about this place?”

“I thought for a moment, I didn’t have any really except a more personal one. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Is it about my sex-life cos if it is, it’s racy and not best suited for the telling after a heavy lunch?”

“And I suppose it would take a long time, a week or two. No, not that personal, it’s about your boobs.”

She chuckled, “They are a part of my sex life.”

“No, seriously, Barbara,” I sat up and looked directly at her, “They are real aren’t they?”

She glanced at the windows to make sure nobody was peering out and then undid her blouse, pulled it open and lifted the cups of her bra to expose two beautifully formed breasts with large, dark areola and proud nipples. “Touch them, feel the softness, go on, we’re girls together here.”

I tentatively reached out and placed the flat of my hand over one, then cupped it and felt the warmth and then touched the nipple.

“Oi, you’re turning me on, don’t tickle me there.”

I grinned, “Course not, that’s gay.” I cupped one and lifted it to feel the weight. “Oh, I didn’t think they were that heavy. I had the idea that they be more like balloons made from heavy rubber.”

“They’re not empty bags that get filled with milk,” said Barbara, lifting the other one, “They are tissue and the milk, when a woman is lactating, is stored in small compartments surrounded by fat tissue and each is connected to others and the connecting tubes all end at the nipple. If they were empty bags, they’d hang down like punctured balloons.”

“I nodded, yes I understand some of the technical stuff but I was just surprised at the weight. How long did it take you to get used to having them there?”

Barbara fell back into the chair and started laughing, she pulled her bra back into place and began buttoning up, “I didn’t wake up one morning with 38B boobs suddenly stuck on my chest. I grew them slowly with hormone treatment; I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to buy new bras because I had outgrown the old ones. These little wonders have taken two years to get to this.”

“Will they keep growing?”

“Can you remember your mother’s bust?”

“Well yes, I did see them once or twice when I was younger,”

“That’s probably about the size yours will grow to, maybe a little smaller. What size was she?”

“I don’t know the bra size but her dress size was twelve, two years before she died. I know that cos I went with my dad to buy her a dress, they were going to a ‘do’ and he wanted to surprise her with the new dress.”

“She’d be a 36 then, assuming she had a figure that was proportional. You will probably be a little smaller. On the whole children are usually similar sizes to their parents, girls follow their mothers, boys their dads. There are exceptions of course, fat parents can produce skinny kids and vice-versa but if you follow a normal food and exercise regime you should be around your parent’s sizes. Do you favour your mother or father?”

“How do you mean?”

“Have you your mother’s eyes, hair, complexion, that sort of stuff, did people ever tell you that you take after your mother or your father.”

“Mother, her hair and eyes and I suppose her skin tone were similar to mine. Dad had dark hair, brown eyes; I have mum’s light brown hair and blue green eyes. She was very pretty, even allowing for a child’s prejudices. All kids think their mothers are beautiful and their dads handsome, but my mother really was pretty, no beautiful.”

Barbara reached out and cupped my chin and looked at my face, “Yes she would have been, I can see it in you. I think you’re probably the prettiest T girl I have ever met.”

“We’re not T girls anymore, we are New Girls, Maria calls us that, so it must be true.”

Barbara smiled, “She’s a lovely person our Maria. The way you’re speaking, it sounds as if you’ve made up your mind.”

“To become a New Girl you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t made a definite decision but I do know what I want to do. I am thinking about it all the time but I said I would make the decision on Tuesday evening because there are one or two other things to be taken into account, like when I get out of here, do I go back to my old work and would they have me as a girl or will I have to change my job perhaps even my career.”

“Universal problem that but whatever decision you make on Tuesday, there’s wagon loads of help here and you can still change your mind again, well certainly in the early days. It’s not something that happens overnight, it takes a year or two, Adam will tell you all about it and we have to see doctors and shrinks who will assess whether or not we should change. You’ll have plenty of help to make your decision.”

I nodded, “Yes I know, you lot are really nice and I know I have lots of shoulders to lean on. It just puzzles, even scares me that everything happened so suddenly. One minute I was a man and happy with it and then suddenly I start becoming a girl, not slowly but all at once, I have been here a week, when I arrived I was really frightened of where I was and what was going to happen but then suddenly after only a few days I’ve changed, dressed up, done my hair, make-up, started thinking about more feminine things, still wearing this piny because I think it’s pretty and I’m perfectly at home in a girly bedroom and making friends with all of you and being happy in you company, no more than happy, I would prefer sitting here chatting with you about dress styles, make-up and how to use curling tongs, than going down to the pub with the lads and a game of darts or rabbiting on about cricket and football.”

Barbara nodded, “You’ve made one mistake though.”

“Oh, what?”

“You think it all happened suddenly, it didn’t, it’s been there all the time but you suppressed it subconsciously until the rape business brought you to this place. You had a catharsis, your mind found itself in a threatening or uncomfortable, even hostile environment and let the real you lose to deal with the problem. I won’t say any more about that because I am not qualified, I will tell you a bit about what happened with me later but it’s best if Adam and the other doctors, the people who really understand the human mind, guide you through and Adam will see to that when you announce your decision but do remember, you can change your mind in the first few months, it isn’t a question of, I’ll go for it and totally commit myself, it’s more of; I want to do this but if I find I can’t see it through to the end, I’ll switch back. And here come the others, getting curious as to what we’re doing out here I expect or coming to tell you what they want for breakfast in the morning.”

“Give me that cushion, I want to throw it at you again.”

They didn’t mention breakfast but they did thank me for my efforts and then they wandered off to play croquet and Barbara went to pick a few flowers and brought them to me. “Find something in the kitchen, put water and a splash of lemonade or aspirin in and take them to your room.” I stood, took them from her, kissed her cheek and said “Thank you,” When I got back to my room I found that Diane had left the jacket, it fitted so did the strappy white sandals but I was certainly going to need to practice walking, as for dancing well…

There was another small package on my pillow, gift-wrapped and my name on it with the message ‘You will need these for Tuesday,’ and when I opened it, there was a pair of cream panties with lace trim and small pink bows, a suspender belt and a pair of tan stockings still in their packet. They were pretty and sexy, I loved them and I held them to my cheek for a moment before putting them safely in a drawer. I picked up the wrapping paper with the intention of folding it and keeping it for the day I started a scrapbook and detected the faintest hint of perfume, I held it to my nose and recognised it, Aprils. I lay down and let a few tears creep out of the corner of my eyes and run down my cheeks, Life had thrown me into a dung heap and I had arisen smelling of roses.

If I chose to leave here, I will leave the best people I had ever known, possibly never see them again, if I elected to stay and ask Adam not to pursue my appeal, then I would gain a criminal record that would stay with me all my life but I may keep my new family. I had to try and find a middle way, give myself three choices, something down the middle because at the moment, the two choices I had were unacceptable. I loved these girls and I wanted them around, like forever but I didn’t want a criminal record haunting me, a record that would show up like a beacon if ever I needed a Criminal Records Check. Perhaps have my passport stamped with a warning and my name on the Sex Offenders List.

I awoke from my nap and heard the voices of the girls coming from the common room, there was laughter so I jumped of the bed, slipped the piny off and with some trepidation, put the sandals on, and began the journey of a lifetime, from my room to the common room in heels. Oddly enough, after I had taken a few paces with one hand brushing the wall of the corridor to help me keep my balance I began to get the knack. Smaller steps and keeping my feet in front of me which made my hips swing a little and slowly I began to look less like a penguin staggering about on ice and more like a teenager trying her first heels.

“Tra-la-la,” I sang as I opened the door, hands away from the wall and stopped in the doorway. “I didn’t fall once.”

The girls jumped up, Diane said, “They suit you, pity about the uniform. Go on, walk around,” ordered April, “Without sticks,” added Maeve, “Could you do a twirl?” asked Barbara.

With an air of triumph, I walked slowly into the room as gracefully as I could and said, “No twirls, straight lines and gentle bends only.”

“Don’t sit,” called Maeve when I reached the chairs, “Come back here, try the corridor again.” And that started it, an hour of walking back and forth along the corridor, around the common room, then the kitchen, the corridor again until, in her best Pygmalion voice, Barbara said, “By Jove, I think she’s got it.”

“Not yet, you lot go and get comfortable, I have to fetch something from my room, won’t be long,” I grinned, “I shall trip daintily along the corridor.”
and off I went to get the bottle of wine that Barbara and I had forgotten to open. My confidence grew with every step, my calves were hurting but I persevered claimed the wine, called at the kitchen and found five assorted glasses and returned to the girls. “Let’s celebrate it’s been a perfect day.”

“Wait a tick and then April vanished to return minutes later with a half bottle “We’ll get two glasses each if we’re careful.”

“Not if Boris comes in and catches us,” said Diane.

“Boris?” I asked.

“You haven’t met him yet, he’s the boss mentor.”

“He won’t mind,” said Maeve, “We don’t do it often and two glasses is not going to send us over the top,” and then she chuckled, unless I go and get my bottle of Beaujolais, and we mix our drinks and have three glasses each.”

“Get it!” we all cried.

Two glasses might not have sent me over the top but three glasses certainly let me know I had been drinking. I kept up my practice and was the one who kept getting up to fetch things and pour the wine and by ten I was getting quite good and offered to do a twirl but the others suggested I leave that until tomorrow in view of the fact that I had become a bit giggly. They did escort me to my room and I didn’t let the side down, I walked with something approaching grace albeit grace was still a long way away.

6

Monday morning, I awoke at six and my head had an attitude, my calves had an attitude, my stomach felt as if it was thinking of having an attitude and collectively they were giving me an attitude. I had told Barbara yesterday that I preferred staying in the Café and chatting with them rather than going to the pub with the lads, I think I might have to reconsider my preferences. I never did have a tolerance for alcohol; usually two or three halves of beer were enough. On adventurous days I’ve been known to have five halves but I think my already intolerant intolerance to booze was increasing, it must be something to do with the hormones.

I remember a couple of years ago, the agency I worked for had been commissioned to produce a short TV ad and we produced a winner. It was for a cosmetics company who had been losing market share and decided to switch agencies and we were invited to submit proposals along with five or six others. I had come up with an idea and did the storyboard; and we won the contract. Partying at a local pub club I had one glass of wine with the meal and three halves of lager and was all over the place. One of the other guys had told me if I had been a girl, I would have been low maintenance.

I could hear noises in the kitchen; Maria must have come in a little early so thinking that a couple of dozen Paracetamol might help. I climbed into my bathrobe, couldn’t find my slippers so put on the heels and went to seek her help.

“You have party,” she accused when I entered the kitchen.

“A celebration, how did you know?”

“Find empty bottles and dirty glasses.”

“Oh sorry about that.”

“Not matter, everybody entitled to celebrate birthdays.”

“It wasn’t a birthday, we were celebrating my first journey in high heels.”

Maria then noticed my gain in height and looked down at my feet, “Oh! Not notice when you come in, show me, walk around,” and she waved her hand in a circular motion, so I obliged but the impact of the heel on the floor was sending horrible messages up my calves to my head so I sat and groaned.

Maria chuckled, “You good but suffer, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Is one of drawbacks to being girl. Wear uncomfortable clothes to make men happy. Not worry, Maria fix punishment for celebration,” she went to a cupboard and came back with two pills and a glass of water. “Drink and go back to room, I do breakfast and send girl with coffee and toast to you.” I climbed to my feet, took the cure with me and walked towards the door, “You good for only little practice, you suffer much before getting perfect,” and I walked down the corridor with her chuckles following me.

April came down later with a cup of coffee and two thin slices of lightly buttered toast. She put them on the dressing table, pulled the chair back for me and then sat on the bed. “Maria said; ‘No marmalade, Helen is watching figure,’ I tried for you.”

“It’s not me that’s watching my figure, it’s her.”

April smiled, “I think she’s adopted you, keeps saying Helen like cousin for my little Isabella, like daughter, good New Girl.”
I took a sip of coffee and a nibble of toast. My attitudes had vanished and my stomach made no objections. “I’m okay now, that wine went straight to my head last night.”

“It certainly did, you were giggling at everything. Maeve was going to give you a Shirley Temple perm, but we managed to stop her. Dance classes at nine thirty, deportment at twelve will you be fit enough?”

“Yes, of course, I daren’t miss dance.”

“Before you go to classes, Boris wants to see you.”

“Oh, it sounds as if I’m in trouble.”

“Don’t think so, Adam isn’t here until this evening and there’s one or two points he wants to bring up.”

“Do you know what they are?”

“No, Boris is one of those everything is top secret people, but if it was trouble, he would probably have come down here to speak to you personally rather than send a message.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s a luv, tries to look strict and super professional but he’s like Adam, a softy really. He does care about us though, likes to get we girls all fixed up when we leave, makes sure we have somewhere safe to live and keeps a bit of an eye on us to make sure we are not getting into trouble. Doesn’t worry me, I like to feel somebody is looking after me.”

“You’re alone when you get out?”

“Yes, I could go back to my parents but they have intimated that though they won’t refuse they would prefer if I went my own way.”

“That’s not very nice, April.”

She shrugged, “Nothing less than I expected. They think I am guilty of all sorts of things, said I shouldn’t have allowed the girl to give me drugs so I lost control of myself as well as my self-respect. And there’s this sex change thing, every time I bring the subject up they steer the conversation away from it, pretending it hasn’t happened I suppose, ashamed of me.”

“The rape, did you?”

“To be honest, Helen, I don’t know. I had intercourse with her but the details of how it got to that is lost. Judge said that had it not been for the girl admitting she had given me the drugs, he would have sent me to prison but he was sending me here because I needed correction and guidance. Funny thing is the girl got six months for possession and distribution.”

“Not undeserved though.”

“Do you think so, I thought it harsh, after all I might have raped her, even if it was a sort of statutory rape.”

“Would you have raped her if you hadn’t been on drugs?”

“Of course not.”

“Well there you are, she’s as responsible as you and anyway, you say you can’t remember it so how did you know you raped her.”

“Well I did say I didn’t know what happened but I did recall we had intercourse.”

“Admission of sorts then, you should have pleaded insanity.”

She laughed, “I’m that anyway. Maeve told me if I could grow double Ds’, chew gum and smoke a joint, I’d become a perfect bimbo.”

“You going for implants then?”

She laughed again, “Nope, going to settle for what I have, B going on C cup. I tried a cleavage bra on a month ago, padded of course, and they looked good, felt good so they will do me.”

“Got a job lined up for when you get out?”

“Not yet. Boris said he’ll try and get me fixed up once I know where I’ll be living.”

“Any skills?”

“Good office organiser, I was doing that before I came here but Maria says I should become a chef or open a small restaurant or patisserie. I wouldn’t mind the latter, I enjoy making cakes pies and stuff like that.” She stood up, “I’d better get back and give you time to get ready to see Boris.”

“What dress code?”

“Normally as a first yearer you would have to wear the skirt and a blouse but in your case, I don’t suppose he’ll be too fussed.”
“Think I’ll wear my tomorrow clothes then with the Café undies.”

“Not the ones I gave you?”

“No, they’re special, keeping them for tomorrow in case I pull a hunk.”

“You can’t, Barbara’s Paul is escorting you and he gets jealous if anybody goes near his birds.”

“He thinks we’re all his birds?”

“Well Barbara looks upon us as her sisters so he feels he has an obligation to look after us as we’re family.”

“That’s sweet but with him on the outside and Maria inside, I’m gonna die a virgin.”

April looked back from the door, “Would you mind?”

I thought for a second, I would but I said, “I’ll let you know tomorrow,” and she was gone.

The skirt was just below the knee, dusky pink and gathered into soft folds. There was a white cotton and polyester blouse and a deep burgundy jacket. Nothing outrageous, the look was soft feminine and my shoes and stockings where just right. I checked my make-up in the mirror but not for long otherwise I would find myself starting all over again. It was okay; all I need to do now, I thought as I left my room is not trip and fall flat as I entered his office. My timing was poor, as I left my room; Melissa escorted by two guards was coming down the corridor. He looked at me with, I don’t know, hate, scorn, not nice, creepy. As he got closer the look changed, he turned and stared and there was something akin to desire in his eyes and then he was gone.

I walked carefully, paused for a moment at the door, this was going to be the first man I had encountered dressed as a woman other than Adam and even he had only seen me in the uniform. And then my self-esteem trebled, Melissa had desired me, a horrible person granted but he desired me, a man fancied me! I took a deep breath and knocked.

I expected a ‘Come-in’ but there wasn’t one. I was on the point of knocking again when the door opened and he stood there with a smile on his face.

“April said you wanted to see me, Mr er Mr…”

“Sanderson but Boris is nicer, less formal, Helen or would you prefer Miss Finch or perhaps Ms Finch?”

“Miss, I don’t like Ms, but please use Helen. As you say, friendlier but if we have to be formal at any time, then definitely Miss, Ms sounds more like a noise a bee would make.”

He laughed and stood aside, “Do come in and sit down, I would offer you a small drink but I think you would prefer not at present.”

“Oh dear, you know about last night, are we grounded?”

He closed the door and walked to his desk, “Grounded, good heavens no, a little relaxation now and again is fine and two and a half bottles of wine between five is hardly likely to lead to rowdy behaviour.” He picked up a folder with confidential stamped across the top. “I had a chance to read your file over the weekend and I wanted to speak to you if only to let you know that I agree with Adam’s assessment of your case.”

“Thank you, it helps to know that I am believed.”

“Now why did you ask him not to stop your subliminal messages and hormone treatment? Please don’t think this is a grilling, I simply want to understand why, given the chance, you didn’t want to return to a normal schedule and get out of here as soon as possible.”

I was sitting with my legs crossed and I absently run my fingers across my knee whilst I considered his question. I knew the answer but should I tell him the real reason, he might override my request and speed up my release. I had to tell him, if I didn’t he might make the wrong guesses and have me thrown out because I was a drain on the prison budget; “I don’t want to leave here yet, I think I am transgendered and I wanted the chance to think and make up my mind before leaving. Well that’s part of it the other part is friendship. The other girls have become a family to me; they are kind and have been a help. If Adam goes ahead and stops my treatment and then has me released, I won’t know what to do with myself, who to go to, what to do. I promised Adam that I would let him know tomorrow evening as to whether I wanted to go ahead with the appeal, I hoped that I would be given that much time.”

He nodded, “There is no time limit at present. This facility is as much a hospital as a prison and we certainly won’t send you out into an unfriendly world without making sure you can cope. It would be very counterproductive if we released a girl before she was ready and then have her go on to commit crimes because her mind was unstable and then have to put her into prison. It is cheaper to cure somebody so that they don’t re-offend than it is to simply punish them and wait for them to offend again. The girls here are only the third intake we’ve had; we released our first intake of girls some time ago. Two of those girls switched back to a male existence, the remainder slipped into a female roll and are still doing it. The point being that not one of them has re-offended, it’s a small sample but a highly successful one and the prison service is currently considering what other classes of offenders would benefit from a similar approach to that used at the Café.
“The only pressure you would have is the need for you to continue your treatment, we can’t have you receiving a pardon or having the sentence quashed and then allow you to use this place as a convenient hotel and friendship club, unless of course you were employed here.”

“Yes, I understand that.”

“It seems you have two choices, one to stay here under sentence but you would continue to have a criminal record as a sex offender with all its ramifications, the other is to go ahead with your appeal and gain your release with a clean record behind you…”

“I had hoped there might be a middle way, I know I am asking for the best of both worlds.”

“You are but Adam, Allen and I are considering your case and think we may have an answer but I won’t say anything at this stage until we have discussed it with those above us.”

“Allen?"

“The third of the three counsellors here. Allen is away on leave at the moment so Adam is full time, normally he covers when Allen or I are unable to work and spells us for days off.”

“Oh, he will be leaving then, I won’t see very much of him.”

“I may become your mentor when Allen returns but Adam will be here quite often and you will see him frequently,” he smiled, “You will find me easy to get on with as well.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t good enough for me.”

“I realise that but it is quite normal for a new girl to be nervous of any changes. Now. I see you have dressed in your own clothes and they suit you and seem to have given you an air of confidence. The rules normally require a new girl to wear uniform for the first year, this is partly to remind them of why they are here and partly to create a level playing field, we don’t want you girls polarising into separate groups. The others here have been wearing their uniforms so that you would feel comfortable. When they see you dressed as you are, they too will start wearing their own clothes and I am suspending the dress code in your case because of your special circumstances. One exception, no male clothing.”

“I wouldn’t dream of switching back, I like the new me.”

“Can I take that as a signal that you have reached your decision?”

“I want to continue but I need to speak to somebody about it first and I was hoping Adam would be able to explain things to me. You know, what I need to consider, career, living accommodation, relationships, that sort of thing.”

“Of course, we will wait until tomorrow, have your day out, see Adam when you return and then perhaps the three of us can sit down together and iron things out so that you can make your decision. There is one other thing, a favour I would ask of you but please don’t worry if you feel you can’t oblige.”

“I’d need a good reason not to help.”

“Thank you. Barbara, as you know is being released in about four weeks, Diane soon after, Maeve is due for release in January and April is due out in March. They are all girls that can be trusted and I was hoping you would allow them to accompany you tomorrow on your shopping trip. You will not…”

“All of us out together, I’d love to, we could have a really nice time.”

“I was about to say, you will not be responsible for their behaviour, Barbara’s young man Paul will do that and also ensure you don’t have any problems with other people…”

“I said I’d love to.”

“Are you sure, it won’t be spoiling your day, I understand you are going to Chichester.”

“It would make the whole trip really exciting and I would have four advisors telling me what to buy. We could have lunch together…yes, I’ll do it.”

“Well, if you are sure and it appears you are, then you’d best go and invite them, I’ve already asked Paul if he minds and he says no, it’s not every day he gets to be seen around Chichester with five beautiful chicks, they were his words not mine.”

I got up and went to the door, “You’re happy that they won’t try to run off?”

“Absolutely certain, I don’t think it would occur to them to spoil a day out shopping.”

“Will they have enough money because I can let them have some?”

“That’s very generous but they all have a good amount in credit, which reminds me, ask them to pop down and let me know how much they want to take with them.”

“Okay, I’ll do it now, we have dance classes soon,” I started to open the door and stopped again. “I think Paul may need help with five of us going, can we take my mum with us?”

“Your mother? I thought you were orphaned?”

“I was, got a new mum now, Maria.”

“Maria in the kitchen?”

“That’s the one.”

Boris scratched his head and reached for a schedule sheet, looked at it and said, “She is doing breakfasts for you and there is a cookery lesson in the morning and she is supposed to be giving you another one-on-one lesson for the evening meal but if you are out, there won’t be any need for her here. Ask her?”

“You’re a dish, Boris,” and I nearly ran to the common room, heels or not.

“I got some news,” I almost shouted, “Good news, terrific news.”

They all jumped up, “You’re being released?” said Maeve.

“No, better than that.”

“We’re all being released,” asked April, “I don’t want it yet, I’m not ready.”

“Better even than that.”

“Well tell us then,” demanded Barbara a little exasperated, “It can’t be that you managed to run down the corridor in heels and not fall flat on your arse.”

“You can all come shopping with Barbara and me tomorrow, every single one of you.”

For a moment, nothing happened and then suddenly they started cheering and dancing around.

“Boris wants to see each of you in turn to arrange for your money, so get down there now whilst I go and see Maria.”

I left and April followed, “I can’t believe this, how much do you think I should take, I want to save as much as possible for when I get out.”

“I stopped at the kitchen door, “What do you need?”

“A little black dress, couple of skirts, some make-up and a bra one size up, I think my boobs are still growing a bit.”

“No shoes?”

“Well yes, I suppose I could do with a pair.”

“Hundred and fifty unless you are going haute couture.”

“Goodness no, Marks and Sparks,” and away she went to see Boris.

I went into the kitchen and Maria was just emptying the dishwasher, “Ah my little one is your head better now?”

“Head?”

“You had a hangover earlier.”

“Oh yes, all gone now I’m rearing to go. Maria, I want to ask you a favour.”

She wiped her hands on a towel and hung it over the rail, “Ask away.”

“Boris has said we can all go on the shopping trip tomorrow but I think all five of us will be a little much for Paul to keep shepherded in a single group.” I walked up to her and took her hand, “Will you come with us? I will need your advice even if the others don’t.”

“Oh my little one, of course I will come.” She took her hand back opened her arms and wrapped me in a lovely embrace and kissed my forehead. “I will have great joy to see you become you, real you,” she unwrapped her arms and held me at full length, “We will buy something for your trousseau while we are there.”

“My trousseau?”

“Of course, every girl must put together a trousseau, it is never too early to start.” She shook her head, “You English girls are too modern and leave everything to last minute. We will start your trousseau and Maria will help you all time until your wedding day and when Maria helps, you will be a most beautiful bride. I need a new hat as well.”

I laughed, “I’ll buy you a new hat, we’ll go to a milliner and have one made just for you, a designer hat that nobody else will have.”

“No. Ordinary hat is good enough, why you want to spend lots of money on hat?”

“Because, the Mother of the Bride must always have the best hat at the wedding.”

In the next chapters; Helen freezes and then goes on a shopping trip and the girls have a party and is there love in the air?

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Vesta’s Hearth and Footprints in the Sea are available in the Top Shelf Amazon shop.

Vesta’s Hearth Chapters 7 and 8

By

Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012

This is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Helen, still confused and frightened has come to terms with who she is but is now confronted by an enormous hurdle and freezes. And then goes shopping.

7

Paul arrived with a mini-bus and with him as escort I had the feeling nobody was going to mess with us. He was six two with the shoulders and muscled chest of a heavy in a rugby team. His wrists must have been close to the diameter of my upper arms, dark curly hair, gorgeous brown eyes and a melting smile, Barbara was lucky and you could tell how much he loved her by the way he treated us, we were family.

“Where did you meet him?” I asked her as we took our seats on the bus
.
“Here, he was driving for the Café. I had only been here a year and he took me to the hospital for a blood work out. I was his only passenger, so we had time to talk and on the return journey, he stopped about a half mile down the road, I’ll show you the spot on the way, and he asked me to go out with him the next time I was allowed outside. I tried to tell him who I was, you know being TG…”

“New Girl,” I corrected. She nodded, “New Girl. He shut me up. Told me he knew about the Café and didn’t care, he wanted me to be his girl. Personality he said was everything and I was full of life. We’ve been engaged for a year, he’s taken me dancing, to the theatre and even up to London to see Swan Lake,” and then she grinned, “We’ve slept together fourteen times. When the mentors and doctors asked me about SRS, he said no before I did, said he didn’t want to change anything about me. We’ve found a nice flat and between us have the money to furnish it or look for a bigger place and I have this,” she held up her left hand and showed me the diamond on her ring finger.”

“Wow,” I said surprised, “I haven’t noticed it before.”

“I don’t wear it in the Café, Boris asked me not to because of the effect it might have on the others but I don’t think he would object now, they know I’m engaged and they think the world of Paul.”

Maria and Paul finished their conversation with Boris and got onto the bus, Maria sitting in the seat across the aisle from me whilst Paul stood beside the driver’s seat and said; “Right you lot, Boris said I was to shoot anybody who tried to do a runner. You’ve been warned.”

“You haven’t got a gun,” said Diane. Paul reached behind him and pulled a water pistol from a back pocket and waved it in the air, “It’s loaded and I’m a crack shot.” Then he sat down, started the engine and we were off on my adventure into fashion.

After only five minutes, Barbara whispered, “It was here in that lay-by, it’s my favourite place in England, I want my honeymoon there.”
I laughed, “It’s a long walk to the beach you won’t get the chance to wear a bikini.”

“Hadn’t thought of that, I suppose I will have to take some pics and pin them to the walls of our honeymoon suite and I can pretend we’re here and then walk down to the beach in the bikini.”

“Make sure you honeymoon in a country that doesn’t slam girls up for wearing a bikini, it would make your criminal record interesting reading.”
She giggled and sat back to look out of the window at the spot where her life had begun.

Maria leaned across the aisle, “What shop you start looking for clothes first.”

“I don’t know I want to visit all of them. Do you think I should get my ears pierced first, buy separates, dresses, lingerie, jewellery, accessories or shoes?”

“Dresses first, then separates, lingerie, shoes, accessories and make-up then you get colours right for your dresses. Leave ears to last in case we haven’t enough time.”

“We have to buy your hat, Maria, don’t forget that.”

“Leave hat for another day, plenty of time and not important.”

“It is to me, I want you to have the hat.”

Barbara leaned forward, “Helen is right. We get your hat and leave something else out if we have to. We can all go and help you pick one.”
Maria shook her head, “No, mustn’t do that too many women’s and picking hat will take all day. Me and Helen in shop and you can look through window.”

“But I want to learn how to pick a hat by watching you.”

Maria shook her head more firmly, “Lady only need one head, one mirror, one shop assistant and one friend to pick hat, rest is instinct, you go buy hat and see.”

“Then I shall go off and sulk and buy some shoes.”

I stared at her, “Buy shoes but you must have a dozen pairs in your room, I’ve seen them.”

“A dozen! You think a dozen pairs of shoes is enough; you’ve got a lot to learn. An absolute minimum is thirty and that’s scrimping.”

“She right,” said Maria, “Need thirty or forty pairs to be real lady.”

“I couldn’t carry that many pairs, not even if I forgot everything else.”

Barbara sighed, “You don’t have to buy them all at once. Today just get three or four pairs to suit the clothes you’re buying and then buy the others as you increase your wardrobe.”

Diane looked over the back of her seat, “Same with make-up, let Maeve sort yours out today, she knows your complexion and she can get the basic stuff and then you can add as you need more.”

“Must remember the girdle,” said April sitting beside her.”

“Girdle, what do I want with a girdle, I’m quite slim.”

“Straight or pencil skirt, you will need it. If something slips out of place, you know what I mean, your girdle is the best line of defence.”

“What do you mean?”

April giggled, “Little Willie might make an un girly bulge in the front of your skirt.”

Maeve poked her head around her aisle seat and called back, “Or have it off!”

I shut my eyes, rested my head on the back of the seat and sighed, “This is all too complicated.”

Maria stood up and said, “You girls be quiet, Helen getting scared.” Then she reached across and squeezed my arm, “You not to worry, they just having fun, Maria will look after you.”

I smiled, “I think you’ll have to.”

Fun over, the girls started singing; and thirty minutes later we pulled into a car park in the centre of Chichester and suddenly I was terrified. So far I hadn’t felt any fear, I had dressed, walked and spoken amongst friends within the safety of the Café, now it was something else altogether, I was going out into a fairly crowded town shopping centre amongst strangers, strangers who would speak to me, brush past me, LOOK AT ME!”

Barbara and Maria knew what had happened and Maria stood, stepped into the aisle and took my hand, pulling me from the seat, I stepped forward as Barbara moved in behind me. Paul was waiting at the bottom of the steps and he held out his hand and helped me down. I took three paces forward and then froze and immediately four girls, Maria and Paul were around me. I looked down at my body, the gentle swell of the fake boobs, the tight hold my belt had on my waist, the line of the skirt and the white strappy sandals and lost every vestige of confidence. I wanted to get back on the bus, I couldn’t do this, I shut my eyes, the world was too big, too crowded and I knew if I opened them there would be hundreds of people staring at me, pointing and laughing.

Maria’s arm went around my shoulders and she squeezed me and whispered, “Look at April, just April, she is opposite you, open your eyes, forget everybody else, just look at April.” I did, she was wearing a light, sleeveless, patterned dress with an A line skirt and two-inch heeled court shoes and a gentle smile.

“She and the others are as close to you as anybody is going to get today. Now Diane next to her,” I moved my eyes to the right, ignoring everything else, almost like a camera panning slowly and Diane appeared in the frame, a dark grey casual skirt suit, white ruffled blouse, three inch-courts.

“Now to the left, look at Maeve,” my eyes did as Maria instructed, a straight off-white dress with soft pleats at the bodice and waist line of the skirt, a shoulder bag with one hand resting lightly on the clasp, white, two-inch heels. I felt movement and then Barbara appeared in front of me, cream blouse, pale green cardigan and skirt with matching three-inch strappy sandals and she poked her tongue out and broke the paralysis and I offered a weak smile and felt Paul link his arm into mine, “Are they pretty?” I nodded, “Do they look like young women?” Again I nodded and looked up at his face, “You’re the looker here, Helen, mind if I walk with you, it’ll do wonders for my self-esteem.”

Then it was okay and I took the first step, then the second and the third and I was walking, swinging my arms and hips and the others all followed with Maria and Barbara at my other side. “You’re right Barbara, I do walk with my elbows in and my lower arms out.”

“You won’t when we’ve finished shopping, they’ll be hanging straight down with the weight of the bags and they’ll be six inches longer.”

“Bags yes. First you buy shoulder bag, I have all your money in mine and am scared I will lose it.”

That was the signal; we split into two groups’ Paul with Maeve, April and Diane, Maria with Barbara and me under her wing. Before us lay Chichester going about its daily business blissfully unaware that the local economy, well the ladies clothing section anyway, was in for a boost.
My first port of call was an ATM, I had my cards but if I tried to use them, there would be problems, a woman using a card with a man’s name on it was going to be challenged but ATM’s are totally committed to sexual equality and as long as you know the pin they worked. I withdrew three hundred pounds from my debit card and three hundred from one of the credit cards. I didn’t use the other card because I reckoned that both being Visa, the computer would smell a rat with daily maximums being withdrawn from both cards at the same place on the same day but with the cash I had I still had over nine hundred. I could have spent more if I had the time, but I was going to treat everybody to lunch, which meant we didn’t have time for a clothing deprived, awakening New Girl to get everything she wanted, I would have to settle for costume jewellery in lieu of gold and diamonds and just two dresses from high street shops rather than six from Bond Street.

Maria was getting nervous about the money so the first port of call was an accessories shop for two shoulder bags one large the other smaller. I stuck one lot of money in a bag, gave some to Barbara and left the remainder with Maria so at least if one of us lost theirs, it wouldn’t stop the day.

Next port of call was a milliner, which we found on the corner of a side street. In we went and straight out again went Barbara when she was shoed away by Maria and then the fun began as Maria tried on hat after hat, looking at me and then out to Barbara, nothing was quite right and then Paul and the others turned up and joined Barbara on the pavement and after fifteen minutes, exasperated as is the way of men when women are buying hats or shoes, he came into the shop, nodded at the milliner and went to the pile of hat boxes, pulled one out, gave it to Maria and said “Here, the pale yellow one, try it on again.”

“It not good, too young.”

“Maria, try it on,” it was a command, not a request and Maria being fifty, Spanish and used to men did as she was told.

Paul was right, it took ten years of her, the colour was perfect and the wide brim cast shadows over her face that gave her the look of a woman of mystery. “It too young for me,” she protested.

I took her by the hand, led her to the window and the girls nodded enthusiastically, we returned to the milliner and Maria looked nervously at me, “It too young, yes?”

“It makes you look like a woman of mystery, beautiful but deep and interesting.”

Paul walked around and looked at her, nodded and said, “Madam will take the hat.”

Then there was an excited tapping on the window and when I looked, April was rapping with one hand and pointing with the other. I walked across and looked to where she was pointing. It was a hat, similar to Maria’s, a smaller brim and white with a pale yellow ribbon around the domed crown. I went closer and touched it, looked at the girls and as one they nodded and pointed at me. I bought it, they knew me better than I knew me and it made my knees go weak, I had bought a hat that wasn’t a baseball cap, not androgynous, it was a young woman’s hat, very pretty and would need hat pins to keep it on in even the lightest breeze. I knew exactly what sort of dress to buy to go with it and almost started planning Ascot in June and Goodwood in July, on Ladies Day of course.

I paid for the hats and Paul offered to take them to the bus.

Out we went and I asked Barbara “Where next?”

“You tell me.”

“No, I have handbags and a hat, Maria has a hat, it’s your turn.”

“Great, a dress shop. I haven’t a really nice little black dress.”

“You’ve got two,” pointed out Paul.

“But I have four pairs of black shoes, I need another one, one with a little more lace and a lower neckline.” Barbara led us off to a shop where she had seen just the one she had in mind.

A half hour later, we left; Barbara with her little black dress and me with a pale blue silk cocktail dress and then we went into Debenhams and everybody bought skirts, blouses, lingerie and woollens. I managed to find three camisoles and a girdle that had enough control to keep my front flat whatever happened and a dozen pairs of knickers. Maria took me by the hand and said, “Trousseau, come with me,” and she led me to a rack of nightwear and pulled a nightdress to the front of the rack. It was beautiful, all white, virtually see through with a faint lace pattern woven into it, a low neckline and gathered under the bust. I wanted it and looked at the price tag, “Maria this is nearly two hundred pounds.”

She nodded, “Is silk and includes this,” and from behind it she produced a matching peignoir with a satin under bust tie, “Best for a bride’s first night, you not wear until married.” I bought it but I wondered if I could keep my hands of it until the day I married, if that ever happened.

Whilst I was paying for everything, Maria disappeared for about ten minutes and came back with a gift-wrapped parcel, the wrapping I noticed was white with silver, wedding bells. She gave it to the girl and said, “Put it with my daughter’s parcels, please.”

“Who’s getting married?” I asked.

“You. Is for trousseau, not open until wedding.”

We were on our way to a jeweller when out of the corner of my eye I caught a sight of the dress I was looking for. It was two doors up in a little side street and the shop had a bow window, “Go on, I’ll catch you up at the jeweller.”

“No you won’t,” said Maeve when they had stopped to see what I was looking at. “You’re into retro and that’s a retro shop, I’ve been in there before its Aladdin’s cave, you’ll be in there for a fortnight, we’ll come too.”

We walked in and Maeve was right, they had wartime stuff, the New Look, fifties, sixties and seventies, I was in heaven. A middle-aged woman came from behind a bead curtain, “Hullo, are you all shopping?”

“Just her,” said April, the yellow dress in the window.”

The woman looked at me, “It will fit and the colour will suit you, its Fifties, would you like to try it on?” she said smiling and taking the dress of the wire manikin, “Here, the changing room is behind the curtain on the left.”

I went in and carried the dress as if it were made of eggshells, it was the colour of my hat ribbon and I knew I was going to buy it and prayed it would fit, which it did.

“I’d like to have it please.”

“It’s full skirted, you’ll need a Fifties style bouffant petticoat otherwise the skirt won’t stand out and look its best.”

“Oh,” I was crestfallen but not for long.

“I have three out back, come on.” I followed her and there they were, a white with black polka dots, a white with pink satin lace and a plain white lace, all full and ready to rustle at the slightest movement.”

“I can’t make up my mind.”

“The white. It’s the best of them; here try it with the dress. I was into the changing room before she had finished speaking and once dressed I stood in front of the mirror, turned every way, twirled and pulled back the curtain, “What do you think?”

She smiled, “You don’t need to ask me, go and show your friends.” I walked back into the shop; Aprils hands flew to her mouth, “I want one,” Barbara nodded and smiled, Maeve said; “I’m jealous and will want to borrow it,” and Diane with a big grin on her face said, “I just want to see you jive and keep that skirt from flying out.”

I went back to the woman, “I’ll take both petticoat and dress,” and then I saw the other dress, it too looked Fifties, a white laced, square necked bodice with a white satin lining and very faint pink polka dots over a full skirt. The woman turned to see what I was looking at, “You want that as well?”

“Will it fit?”

“Yes, same size and length as the yellow dress and the petticoat will go with both.”

“Can I have it?”

“Of course and I’ll even give you a discount as you’ve bought so much. Don’t forget to style your hair with a pony-tail to complete the look.”

Paul had returned from the bus, “You lot will have to get a move on if you want lunch before we go back.” He looked at the bag I was carrying reached out his hand, “Gimme that and I’ll be back in thirty minutes and that’s all the time you have before lunch and lunch will have to be forty-five minutes not two hours.” And off he went with the last of our bags and parcels.”

Barbara led the others into another accessories shop and Maria and I went into the jeweller. I bought a wristwatch for myself and another for Diane she didn’t have one. Maeve I found hoop earrings for, April a little heart shaped pendant and a butterfly brooch for Barbara. “Why all these,” asked Maria as we were waiting for them to be gift-wrapped.

“The girls have been terrific for me, Maria and this is like the hat I bought for you, a little way of saying thank you.”

She shook her head, “You spend all your monies nearly.”

“Nope, Barbara still has two hundred and I’ve money in the bank when I get my accounts and cards sorted out. What I’ve spent today is less than I would have done if I had been outside these past few weeks.” I walked down the counter and spoke quietly to the assistant, handed over some more money and then steered Maria into the computer shop and ignored her tut-tutting as I bought an iPod.

“Who for?”

“Paul, I heard him telling Barbara he would like one and he has run around for us, he deserves a thank you.” I paid and asked Maria to wait for it whilst I went back to the jeweller to collect everything else.

After lunch as we were returning to the bus I asked Paul if we could stop at the lay-by where he had dated Barbara. He looked at me suspiciously but nodded, “Five minutes or I leave you standing there.”

When he stopped, I got up and said to Barbara, “Take me to the exact spot.” We got off the bus and walked back a few paces, “Here,” she said, “Why did you want to stop?”

“I want to say a little prayer,” and I closed my eyes, stood for a few seconds and then said, “Okay, all done, let’s get on the bus before Paul leaves us.”

“I don’t have to ask who the prayer was for,” she whispered.

8

“Write your names on a piece of paper and tape it to the outside of your doors, unless you want me to leave everything in the common room. Then you’ll have time for tea.”

“What about you, Paul.” You never had lunch with us, you must be starving.”

“Not into all that pasta and salad stuff, I had a quick meal in Burger King. Now go on hoppit, I’ve all this lot to deliver to your rooms and get the bus back to my yard.

I caught Barbara up in the corridor, “Barbara, will you give this to Paul?” I rummaged around in my bag and found the iPod.

“What is it?”

“An iPod, I heard him tell you he would love to have one.”

“What did you buy him that for?”

“Well, he’s been terrific today, looking after us, keeping us on schedule and carrying all our stuff back to the bus, I thought it would be nice way of showing him we are grateful.”

“We are grateful?”

“Of course, he looked after all of us that’s why you should give it to him.”

“Helen, I am not the jealous type, Paul loves me and I him and I know your heart lies elsewhere. Go and give it to him and don’t faint if he gives you a kiss.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Certain, go on, do it,” then she smiled, “Just be back here in five minutes or I’ll come down there and tear your hair out.”

I nodded and went back outside. Paul was in the bus sorting all the bags and packages, “I have a something for you, I’m sorry about the girly wrapping but the assistant must have thought it was for one of us.”

He took it and looked at it mystified, “What is it, what’s it for?”

“It’s a present to thank you for being so good to us today, open it. You do know how to open small satin bows don’t you.”

He grinned and to my surprise opened it carefully, taking care not to tear the paper and then looked up at me, “An iPod.”

“Is it, I don’t understand much about those technical thingies, it’s about all I can do to work my cell phone.”

“You lie badly, Helen. I’ll bet you can find your way around a computer better than any of them and it’s not from them, it’s from you.” Before I could deny anything, he placed both hands on my shoulders and kissed me; not on the cheek, not on the forehead but on the lips.

And I backed off quickly, it was nice, “Barbara said you would do that.”

He grinned, “Can’t resist a pretty girl.”

“I don’t believe you, you’re too much in love with Barbara but the kiss was nice.” I turned and hurried back.

“Six and a half minutes,” said Barbara as I entered the kitchen, “Another thirty seconds and I was coming down to see what was going on.”

“There was nothing to worry about, it was only a quickie and doesn’t mean a thing, lust not love.”

She grinned, “You don’t know Paul, he’s a master, no quickie man I can assure you. You’d think to look at him he doesn’t have a delicate bone in his body but when he caresses you, it’s like a feather, soft, slow, delicious.”

“He should be an artist,” said Maria, placing a cup of tea in front of me, she pointed at the cakes, “Only one…Dinner late today, Boris said is okay. Light because you each have good lunch.”

“We’ve had a great time, Helen, a day to remember, thanks for letting us come,” said Maeve and the others echoed her and then gave me a clap.
I blushed but I was happy that I had done something for them; they had been so good for me. “Do you think Boris will let us do it again?”

“I doubt he’ll let us escape lessons but he might allow us to go out as a group at the weekend if an escort can be arranged.” Replied Maeve, “But it would have to be a dinner or a quiet pub somewhere.”

“Oh, I was hoping perhaps we could go to a disco.”

We all looked at April, “Disco?” asked Diane, “We’re in prison, not on holiday.”

April shrugged, “I was just hoping. Couldn’t we say we wanted to put our dancing lessons to the test?”

“No, how do you think they could keep an eye on us in a disco.”

“Well, we’ve proved we aren’t going to behave badly or try to abscond,” I pointed out.

“It isn’t that, he’d be more concerned with our safety than any threat we might be to society.”

I frowned, “If there were the five of us, we’d be safe enough and I’m sure if Paul couldn’t be the escort, there would be somebody else.”

“Not in a crowded, noisy disco. We would each need an escort and even then there would be no guarantee.”

“Surely not, this is Chichester, not London or Manchester. They’d realise we were just a bunch of trannies or something like that and the worst that could happen is a few unkind remarks.”

Diane leaned forward and said,” Helen, have you any idea of what sort of affect you have on men.”

“Me, what do you mean, I didn’t speak to any men other than Paul. We were together all the time.”

“You didn’t have to speak to them,” said April. “Didn’t you notice the greengrocer?”

“Greengrocer?” I can’t even remember a greengrocery.”

“When you spotted the retro shop, you dallied and as you went past his shop trying to catch us up, the greengrocer watched you the whole time.”

“Nonsense, if he was watching, it was all of us.”

“You were a few yards behind us, it was you he was watching and he did it again when we went back. He never took his eyes off you.”

I shrugged, “Well I never noticed.”

“No,” said Maria, coming back to the table, “And you didn’t notice the three men who went past when we came out of the hat shop. Even Paul spotted them and didn’t take his eyes off them until they turned a corner. Several times men looked at you, a longer look, not just a casual glance. And you weren’t even dressed up, just neat, nothing special.”

“Exactly,” agreed Barbara “And if you were dressed up as in disco, you would attract a great deal of attention.”

“You’re just saying it to give me confidence.”

“No we’re not,” said two or three of them together.

I stood up, ran my hands from my waist down over my hips. “I’m not even girly shape except for a padded bra.”

“Barbara, I think you should talk with Helen,” said Maria and at that point Paul came in and said, “All deliveries done, I’m off.” He looked at Barbara, “See you next week, Luv, nodded at me and left.”

“You see,” said Barbara.

“See what?”

“Paul glanced at you.”

“That doesn’t mean a thing, he just glanced at me but spoke to you.”

“Yes he did but you may not think the glance means anything, you’re right, it doesn’t but he still glanced. No man is going to enter a room without at least glancing at you. It doesn’t mean they want to take you to bed or sweep you into their arms but they will glance.”

“Helen,” said Maeve gently, “Men will notice you. You are a touch more than pretty. There is something that radiates from you and it comes from inside.”

This was getting embarrassing; they all seemed to agree with what was being said. Had I acted coquettishly, even trampy, if I had it hadn’t been deliberate. The one thing I was sure of was that had I noticed the men looking at me I would have frozen or run back to the bus. I can’t be that attractive, ten or eleven days ago I was wearing a bomber jacket and trousers – ‘you were walking like a woman, you cross your legs when sitting, touch yourself, your hair,’ I remembered Barbara’s words. “I have to go and put my things away,” I paused at the door and turned back to them, “Thank you, I have heard what you said.”

Paul had placed my parcels neatly on the bed and I sat down before putting them away. Idly my hand caressed the parcels thinking of what had been said to me in the kitchen. Surely they were joking with me, giving me a morale booster and then I remembered Melissa’s look when he passed me in the corridor, a look of lust. Adam and Boris, their attitude and behaviour towards me, the courtesy, the gentleness, they were dealing with a young woman not a prison inmate. I got up, I had to speak to Adam or Boris and to Barbara, I was too feminine, and it had come upon me too quickly. The amount I had been reading about transgendered people and their treatment was not covered by this, everything said it would take at least two years before bust development was anywhere near complete, nine months before any physical changes became apparent and hours and hours of training and practising to acquire the necessary female behavioural skills. Within a week I was curling my hair and doing my make-up skilfully if not perfectly I was acting like a woman who had been doing these things all her life, needlework, cooking, knitting and dancing all things I learned too quickly for a beginner.

With determination I put the thoughts aside and began on my shopping. First the dresses were hung up, the petticoat fluffed out and hung then the make-up, jewellery, lingerie tidied away into drawers and cupboards and then I looked around me. This morning I had one or two pieces of women’s clothing, now I had nightdresses, drawers full of lingerie, three dresses, two skirts, four blouses, woollens, shoes, stockings and handbags even a hat, not a full wardrobe but certainly a firm beginning of one. I went to the wardrobe and pulled out the two retro dresses and hung them on the outside of the door, sat and looked at them trying to make up my mind which to wear for my appointment with Adam. There was a knock on my door and when I opened it, there was Maeve carrying her toolbox.

“You asked me if I could do your hair and a make-over before you go to see Adam.”
“Yes, thank you do you have the time?”

“Course and I’ve brought this,” she held up what looked like a gun.

“What’s that?”

“Ear piercing, we didn’t have the time when we were in Chichester, I can do it now if you like, I have studs as well. What’s wrong with your hair, it only needs a brush?”

“I want a temporary change of style.”

“We don’t have time for anything too elaborate.”

“I don’t think it is, can you give me a ponytail, a fifties ponytail to go with one of the dresses.”

She laughed, “My you do have the retro bug.”

“It’s very feminine, I would like to have lived during those years.”

“She gave me a funny look, “Yes, very feminine. Right let’s get cracking, ponytail won’t take long, got an elastic band or scrunchy.”

An hour later I looked in the mirror, perfect and the ponytail was just right. Maeve had used clips and a pretty peacock hair clasp on one side to set off the look. “Which dress?” she asked.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

She went over to look at them, “The yellow; the white will need a light iron run over it before you wear it and you haven’t the time.
She looked at her watch, “Get cracking, you have less than thirty minutes to get dressed, Oh, and wear the cameo necklace and a ring on each hand. Good luck, killer, sock it to him, I’m off and we’ll all be waiting in the common room.”

I did get cracking and as I was buttoning up the dress I heard Adam come in and go to his room and my heart started hammering but I took a deep breath, retained control, finished buttoning the dress and fitted the patent belt and then I looked in the mirror and I had to smile the reflection was a women, there was no man in there anywhere.

I put on the cameo necklace, removed the studs from my ears and fitted the long single pearl pendant earrings. Maeve had said not to, even their tiny weight might distort the piercing before they had healed but I would change back when I had finished with Adam. I stood and looked again and liked the real me. If I had had any doubts before I didn’t now, I was a woman and was going to stay one.

I put on the watch and bracelets, picked up my shoulder bag, took a deep breath and went to see him.

He opened his door and for a split second he looked puzzled and then his face broke into a smile, “Helen, you look absolutely stunning. Come in, my word the butterfly has emerged.” He brought a chair over and held it whilst I sat and then walked round his desk sat and pulled my file towards him before looking at me again. “I am impressed, are you going out this evening?”

“Well no, I didn’t think I’d be allowed out. No, I put these on just to show you some of the things I bought today,” (I know Paul had said I was a bad liar but I did my best to sound sincere.)

“Well I’m flattered that you should take so much trouble.”

“It didn’t take long,” (I was getting better at the lies.)

“I’m not an expert on women’s fashion but whatever look that is, it suits you, shows your personality. Do something for me, get up and walk a few paces, let’s have a good look at you.”

I got up half expecting my legs to collapse beneath me and walked across the office stopped and turned around and then, heaven only knows what got into me, I did a twirl. I felt the skirt and petticoat lift but kept the speed slow enough to not reveal anything that should not be revealed and then I walked back and sat.

Adam was smiling, “A twirl as well, you are a confident one. Dancing soon I expect.” Then he became business-like but not before looking at my knees. “Over the weekend I managed to speak with the judge at your trial and he strongly believes you should appeal. He thinks a retrial will not be necessary and the conviction will be quashed. I spoke to a barrister friend of mine and he is of the same opinion and will happily take the case if you decide to go ahead. Have you made your decision yet, I am not hurrying you, you can have more time if you feel you need it?”

I stood up and stepped away from the seat, “Look at me Adam, I’m a woman, all woman and this is me. I may not have the right shape yet but that will come, in the meantime I intend to stay as I am now, not to leave here and revert to my other side, the dead side. I have some concerns that I would like to speak about, preferably with you and whoever else you suggest but they are technical not mental.” I sat down again and said quietly, “I am Helen Vesta Finch, nobody else.”

He looked surprised, “Vesta, where did that come from?”

“Ancient Rome, the Goddess of the Hearth.”

“Ah, a name and a statement.”

“Yes.”

He turned a page in my file, checked something and returned his eyes to me. They were smiling, “Well my Virgin Goddess of the Hearth, I have news for you. I have booked an appointment for you to see a doctor, I know her well and she works closely with us and agrees that you have classic symptoms of gender dysphoria, transgendered if you prefer but won’t confirm anything until she has seen you. Next Thursday morning at eleven if that suits you. Subject to her report, you will then see our panel and get things moving, medical treatments etc. You will also need to see our solicitor who will arrange for name changes to your bank accounts and get that side sorted out and then I will help you with everything else.”
He looked at me expectantly, I smiled, “I love men of action.”

He got up, “Right Helen Vesta, that’s enough for now. I will see you tomorrow meanwhile, go tell the girls and have a good evening. Lights out at eleven tonight, that’s if any of you can keep your eyes open that long.”

I wanted to kiss him but thought better of it and simply said, “Thank you, it’s been a wonderful day,” and went back to my room to change my earrings before Maeve gave me a rocket but I could feel his eyes on me until I closed the door.

A few minutes later with their presents in my bag, I skipped along the corridor, went into the common room, walked to the centre of the circle of chairs and settees, did a double twirl and this time didn’t give a damn how high my skirt and petticoat rose, I had pretty panties on, straightened my skirt and sat in the armchair they had left for me.

“You bitch,” swore Diane, “Even I can’t do a double twirl.

“I am definitely going to buy a dress like that,” added April.

“What happened?” asked Maria jumping up, “What is the decision are you still my daughter?”

“Well?” said Barbara and Maeve simply smiled.

“I told him I was Helen Vesta Finch and that is the way I intend to stay. A barrister is taking my case to appeal if I want, I can stay here for the time being and I’m seeing a doctor on Thursday to start my treatment.”

They clapped and cheered and Maria clasped her hands in front of her and said a prayer.

“Vesta?” asked Barbara.

“Roman, she was the Virgin Goddess of the Hearth, the homemaker, the Vestal Virgins,” Maeve told her.

“Virgin? Goddess of the Hearth? Isn’t there an oxymoron in there somewhere?”

I smiled, “A rose by any other name shall still smell like a rose and should it become necessary or desirable to alter the virgin bit, I am willing to give it a go.”

“You keep yourself for husband,” admonished Maria. Then she pointed at three bottles of white wine and a bottle of lemonade sitting on a desk. “We celebrate.”

“Before we do, I have something for each of you.” I handed them each their gifts and sat back to watch and hope that I had guessed right.
Maeve whooped, Held the earrings up and said, Celtic Goth, I can go punk with these. April put her pendant on and said a quiet thank you. Diane looked at me, “You’re very observant, I missed my old one when it broke,” and put the watch on immediately and Barbara exclaimed, “My God, this is Mother of Pearl,” and Maria sobbed loudly and ran out of the room and into the kitchen where we could hear her crying.”

“What happened?” asked Barbara.

“I gave her a gold locket.”

“That’s not something to cry about,” said April.

“I had the inside engraved; With Love From Your Two Spirit Daughter.”

“Oh goodness,” and Diane jumped up and ran after Maria, crying just as loudly.

“That’s some heart you have Helen,” and Barbara wiped tears from her eyes.

April got up, smiled weakly at me and said’ “I’ll pour some lemonade and wine champagne.”

I had got it right, they liked the presents, Barbara said I had a big heart and I turned men’s heads, I was happy. I folded my arms around my chest under my bust, looked down at the curve and hugged myself, eventually, these were going to be real, I was very, very happy.

Three spritzer champagnes later I stood up stretched, “I’m off to bed.”

“So soon? I have a disc player in my room, I could get if and we could have a dance, you can teach me to twirl in heels.”

“Nope, too much excitement today, I want an early night and you know I can’t twirl after three spritzers, you just want me to fall over.”

She giggled and that set everybody else off which was the scene that greeted Adam when he popped his head round the door, “Maria, I’m going home now, I think you could use a lift. Girls, Boris will be in his room if you need him, there are extra Paracetamol in the kitchen first aid cabinet, don’t burn the Café down, goodnight, looked at me and smiled, took Maria by the arm and walked her out.

Barbara was chuckling, “I just won a bet with myself.”

“What was that?” asked Maeve.

“I bet myself that Adam would look at Helen before he left.”

“I’m off before we start that again,” and as I walked down the corridor a thought popped into my head, ‘I wish Adam would take me to my room and help me undress’.

In the next chapters; a walk in a meadow with an unknown lover and a new musical ensemble/pop group is formed.

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Vesta’s Hearth Chapters 9 and 10

By

Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012
This is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

A walk in a meadow with an unknown lover and a music ensemble/pop group is formed.

9

I had a wonderful dream and awoke without a headache and a feeling of peace; contentment would be a better word. My mind wandered back to the dream, I could remember it, which was unusual, normally I remembered nothing of my dreams.

I had been walking across a meadow and there was a man with me, a tall man and as is the way of dreams I was wearing my white strappy heels, something no woman would do when walking across a meadow but that’s the nice thing about dreams, practicality isn’t a priority. I had on the white retro dress and a white silk scarf, no hand or shoulder bag but I was holding the man’s hand. I tried to recall the face and couldn’t but I knew he was handsome, in my dreams I am going to insist on only handsome men.

The meadow became a glade, trees surrounded us but a light breeze found its way between them and I could feel it playing with my hair, the scarf and the hem of my dress. He turned me to face him and he said, “Alone and together at last,” and kissed me and whilst we kissed he eased me to the ground until I was laying on my back, the skirt of my dress spread out, the petticoat tickling my legs. He was kneeling beside me and when we broke the kiss he eased his hand beneath my shoulders and I could feel him unzipping me, slowly he pulled the bodice from my shoulders. I don’t know how he did it but suddenly I was laying naked from the waist up, my arms up and hands clasped behind his neck and he lowered his head and we kissed again, one hand was caressing my breast, a real breast, I had grown two lovely mounds and his thumb was gently circling a nipple. The kiss ended but the thumb continued its caresses and he raised his head and gazed down at me, “You will always turn heads, Helen, always.” And as he spoke little electric shocks started in my breast and slowly began to spread. They reached my stomach and I cried out to him, “Love me!”
He did and the electric shocks grew in intensity. There was no pain he just slipped into me, a hand caressed my breast until I felt as if I would burst into fire. He started to move, I could feel every gland on his penus as it moved slowly backwards and forwards and the fire became unbearable, my heart was beating so rapidly, my breathing short shallow gasps and then I had an orgasm, my whole body shuddered as his seed entered me…I awoke then, sighed and I tried to go back to sleep, I wanted to return to the dream. I’m sure that if I had stayed asleep I would have experienced a second even third orgasm.

I lay for a moment remembering and subconsciously my hand slipped down to my groin. My nightie was gathered at my waist and the front of my panties was wet. I threw back the duvet and sat up and looked down, I did have an orgasm during the night, a wet dream!

It was cold now and I realised I was uncomfortable. I wriggled out of the panties and nightdress and padded into the bathroom and sponged myself clean. I left my panties in the sink for hand washing later, came back to the room and took another pair from my drawer and slipped into my bathrobe and sat on the edge of the bed.

I tried to reach back into the dream and see the man’s face, I wanted to know him in life now that I had known him in my dream but his face simply wouldn’t come, only his body, muscled but not excessively so, a fit man rather than a weightlifter and his penus, I giggled at the thought, was a perfect fit. Had it been a dream or had a man really entered my room last night and made love to me? No, I dismissed the idea I would certainly have awoken.

But who? Who was my dream lover? Should I mention the experience to Adam? No, perhaps I might tell the doctor I was seeing on Thursday but I don’t think I could have calmly sat and told Adam about my wonderful dream man.

Time was passing and I had breakfast to prepare. I put last night’s bra back on and looked down at my bust and sighed, last night I had had real boobs nestled in there. I pulled the cup down and moved the breast form half expecting to see a real breast but nothing, no bruising so it had to have been a dream but the nipple did seem a little larger. I sat at the dressing table and quickly applied make-up, arranged my hair into a ponytail and finished dressing with a white blouse and cardigan over a dark skirt, I was ready for business. I slipped into low-heeled black shoes and off I marched to the kitchen, slipping my pinny over my head as I walked and feeling relief at not having to walk in high heels after yesterday’s excursion around Chichester. Eventually, I suppose my calves would get used to it but for the moment, low heels were a blessing.

As I approached the kitchen I could hear music, well a voice, it was Saint-Saen’s opera, Samson and Delilah, the aria Softly Awakes My Heart but being sung by a contralto rather than a mezzo but the voice was good, well-modulated and had sensitivity. Quietly I opened the door and stood still until the aria had ended, and I realised I been listening to April. “That was you singing?”

April turned, “Oh hullo, Helen. Yes, it was Maeve who introduced me to opera when she heard me singing in my room. I’m a natural low register contralto, she told me, I don’t know what a contralto is but she said I should have my voice trained.”

“She was right. Is that your natural voice?”

“Yes, Boris has told me I can have the trachea shaved a little which will lift it to mezzo but I like it the way it is, the girls tell me there aren’t many women with voices in that range, the lads think it’s sexy. You should know yours is similar to mine.”

“Boris is wrong, leave your voice it’s beautiful and you say mine is similar?”

“Yes, hasn’t anyone mentioned it?”

“Never.” It explains why I wasn’t challenged yesterday, I had completely forgotten to modulate my voice, it seems I sound like a woman without trying. “Contralto is the low end of a woman’s voice,” I explained, “Tenor is the high end of the man’s voice and it’s where the sexes meet. The highest a man can get is sometimes called a contralto tenor and a woman’s lowest might be described as a tenor contralto, and there’s almost no difference.”

April smiled, “I don’t understand any of it, I only sing when I want to, when I’m extra happy.”

“And today you’re extra happy?”

“Yes because of yesterday, I think it was the best day of my life. That’s why I’m here, I want to help with the breakfasts.”

“Thank you. Can any of the others sing?”

“I don’t know. Maeve plays the harp, Barbara and Diane the piano a bit I think.”

“No violinists?” I said feigning disappointment.

“Yes, Diane, and Maeve the cello she told me, but not very well.”

I sat down and started to laugh, “April we could form an ensemble and tour stately homes playing chamber music,”

“Can you play something?”

I nodded “Quite good on the clarinet and a bit of flute and I used to sing a bit.”

Like a little girl seeing her Christmas presents, she jumped up and down and clapped her hands, “Helen, we could form a group.”

I smiled, “We’ll ask the others and see if we can’t get some instruments to play, if nothing else we could entertain ourselves, give a concert for our mentors and the security guards but right now, we have breakfasts to prepare.”

Prepare is hardly the word, I guessed that nobody was going to want a ‘full-English’ today so it was a question of laying the table, opening a carton of orange juice and putting packets of muesli and cornflakes on the table with a jug of milk and I diced some fresh fruit to add to the cereals and that was it except to slice the bread.

The percolator was just about delivering the goods when they began to drift in, surprisingly bright eyed and bushy tailed, we must be getting used to being winos.

“No heels?” asked Barbara.

“Too scared to show me how to double twirl, not up to it when she’s sober,” said Diane.

“Pity that,” observed Maeve, “We could have run a book on which of you took a prat fall first.”

“And we have dance and deportment for the second period this morning,” said Barbara looking at the timetable on the door.

“No problem,” I replied cheerily, “I’ll pop down to my room and slip some on before dance.”

Boris came in and said, “Any chance of coffee and toast?”

“Would you like two soft boiled eggs,” I asked, getting up.

“You’re an angel.”

Once everybody was settled and having their breakfast. I asked, “Boris, is there any chance you could get us some musical instruments?”

He looked up from where he was decapitating his egg, “What sort?”

“A piano, violin, cello, harp, clarinet and flute.”

“Are you thinking of starting a symphony orchestra?”

“No, we’d need brass and percussion for that. Just a sort of ensemble, voice, instrumental and chamber.”

He looked from one to the other saw the blank expressions on the faces of the girls, “An ensemble?”

“Sort of, bit of easy listening pop as well.”

He raised his eyebrows; “Well it’s a new one. We do have a piano somewhere out in reception, hidden away in a storage room but it will need tuning. I can ask about the other instruments at the main prison, they often have stuff like that.”
“Thank you.”
After he had left to get on with his work the others looked at me and said, “What was all that about.”
“It’s as you heard it. I heard April singing this morning and she told me what Maeve had said about her voice and then told me that mine was similar. She also told me about the instruments you play and as I can sing a little, play the clarinet quite well and the flute some, the idea sort of grew.”

Maeve looked at me with incredulity, “Are you saying you had no idea about your voice being low contralto?”

“None. I knew I could sing a little and did so occasionally on karaoke nights in pubs or at the odd party, never formally and nobody ever mentioned my pitch, some said I was good, that’s all.”

Barbara sat, “Is there anything you know about yourself. You didn’t have a clue about being TG; you didn’t know you had a voice; you didn’t know you turned men’s heads; you don’t even know you can walk in heels!”

“I had no reason to take that close a look at myself. I know I am a good graphic artist and not one to cause controversy.”

“Well. You’re doing that in here, you must be about the most controversial person I know.”

I shrugged, “Barbara I had no reason to investigate myself, see if I had gifts or talents I knew nothing about. I loved my work and had no plans to change it and though at times a bit lonely, my life seemed okay.”

Maeve said, “I can play classical and pop guitar as well, stick that on the list and we don’t need to get one, they allowed me to keep mine here, it’s acoustic.”

“Rodriguez?” I asked and she nodded and said, “Why don’t you sing something for us now.”
“Without accompaniment?”

“Why not, the acoustics in here are good.”

“Okay,” I thought for a moment and then took a breath and started singing ‘The First Time Ever I saw Your Face.’

They listened silently and when I finished Barbara sighed, “You can certainly sing, I just don’t understand why nobody has ever told you.”

“They might have done, perhaps I didn’t pay much attention to it.”

Our sewing tutor came in; “It’s time for your lesson girls, pins and needles in the sewing class.”

10

I have to give credit to Boris, when he says he’ll look into something, it does get looked into. That afternoon four convicts and two warders from the main prison came into the Café and entered a room opposite the kitchen. I had just come out of the common room and all eyes switched to me as they turned and waited for the guard to unlock the door and they kept looking. I smiled and started to make my way to my room and their eyes followed me until the guard yelled at them to get inside, and they started clearing stuff out. I continued to walk to my room and as I opened my door, two of them were coming down the corridor and again they looked and the guard had to gee them up. I closed the door, sat on my bed and smiled, I did turn heads and even if they were cons and probably hadn’t seen a woman for weeks, they looked and had to be hurried on by the guard.

Later I was in the corridor again when a pair of them carrying two tubular dining tables went past and they stared again and as the guard followed them he looked, winked and smiled. Oh boy, this was going to my head. I didn’t see them again, I was working with Maria and the only other person to come in was Adam, “Its short notice but before you go to see the psychiatrist tomorrow, I’ve booked an appointment at the main prison hospital and Paul will take you. The doc phoned and said she wants you for blood tests.”

“Why Paul in a prison full of guards?”

He grinned; “We can’t have you running around turning the prisoners wild. No in truth Paul or a guard have to be present, prison regulations and on top of that, he’s there to protect you from the prisoners though it’s unlikely you’ll see them because the hospital wing is isolated from the main prison but there might be one or two working there.”

“What’s the blood test for?”

“Cholesterol, hormones, liver and kidney condition principally.”

“Seems odd, cholesterol and stuff, I had tests when I came in.”

“These are gender orientated. If you are going onto a full hormone regime, we need to ensure your liver is functioning correctly and what your estrogen and testosterone levels are before we start otherwise the doctors won’t be able to prescribe accurate doses. Can’t have you becoming a stroke victim or getting liver and kidney failure. You’ll need to have tests at regular intervals to ensure your body is coping. Now you have the psychiatrist at midday and the hospital tests at ten so Paul will pick you up at nine, which will give the hospital a little extra time to weigh you, and other bits and pieces. The doctor and nurses there are all gender trained and have worked with our girls so there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“Don’t be nervous! I’m undressing in front of a doctor and nurses who I have never met, and you say don’t be nervous.”

“The doctor is female, they’ve all done it before, seen it all before so they will only look at you as another patient. No food or drink other than water after eleven tonight.” He started to leave and stopped, “Helen, dress down, blouse and skirt, cardigan, okay. If it rains we will have to try and find you a brolly or coat.”

“No need, Maria sort that, you go now, Helen is busy cooking.”

He laughed, “Do I get any,” and left.

Shortly after that, we heard the girls come in from the garden where they had been having aerobics. Just to prove he was still around, the Devil decided to try a bit of mischief because there was a great deal of noise as the inmates of the main prison pushed something heavy up the corridor. There was even more noise when they tried to negotiate the corner, and one of the girls decided to leave the common room to come into the kitchen. The noise stopped and I heard a male voice say, “Fuck me, this place must be a brothel, there’s another tart.”

“Do I look like a bloody prossy?” I heard April say. I had to hold my hand over my mouth to stifle laughter, Maria had her head bowed and was shaking and she pointed at the hatch and managed to gasp, “Warn them.”

I opened the hatch and said, “Sssh, there’s convicts in the corridor, men from the main prison. April slammed the door, “Fucking tart, what does he think I am.”

I couldn’t stop the laughter then and let it go, the expression on April’s face was priceless.

Diane, cool as a cucumber answered her, “You were a bit slow there, you could have earned a few bob and done a trick or two,” and that started everybody laughing again.

When they had calmed down a bit, I managed to get their attention, “Stay in here, they’ve come over to clear that spare room, I’ll pass lunch through the hatch.” I went back to the door and opened it to make sure they had a guard with them and stared at the ‘thing’ they had been pushing up the corridor, it was a beautiful, walnut, iron framed upright piano, an antique. It even showed the marks where candelabra had once been fixed to allow the pianist to read the music. It had to be Mid-Victorian and without thinking I stepped out to take a closer look. The men stood back and one of them asked, “Ere, what is this place?”

It brought me to my senses and I glanced at the guard but he seemed relaxed, “They’re trusties,” he said.

“It’s a prison of course,” I answered.

“You a con then?”

“Yes, I’m in for GBH, I chivved my boyfriend for two-timing me and went too far and got ten years.”

“Bloody ‘Ell.”

“What’s that other bird in for?”

“Murder, done a bank clerk on an armed robbery.”

“Fuck me,” said another, “How come you ain’t in a max security place?”

“Too dangerous to the other prisoners they reckoned. One of the other girls,” and I nodded towards the door to the common room, “Her name is Maeve, topped another con when she was in Holloway.”

The first man said, “And you look as if butter wouldn’t melt in yer mouth.”

I shrugged, “I just don’t like men, they’re all two-timing bastards. Any bloke tries it on me again and he’s going to be wearing his balls as earrings.”

“Come on you lot, get that piano into the room,” said the guard winking at me, “You’ve already upset that other girl and I don’t want to finish up in hospital trying to defend you lot from a load of crazed Amazon killers.” The men did as they were bid, and kept giving me nervous glances as they manoeuvred the piano through the door and into the room.

I went back into the kitchen and closed the door, Maria was laughing, “You not speak lady-like, swear much.”

“Don’t you go talking to a crazed Amazon killer like that,” I answered and took the two plates she was holding and went to the hatch.

“Topped a con in Holloway, did I,” said Maeve taking the plates.

“Orrible it was, blood everywhere,” I answered, “And April’s as bad, running amok with a Tommy gun.”

We returned to near normal and after lunch I stayed with Maria for my one-on-one cooking lesson and the others started flower arranging and at three thirty Boris called us all into the Common Room. “Right, the room has been cleared, there is some litter and a cartful of dust, so the remainder of this afternoon is domestic science…”

“You mean we have to clean it.” Said Barbara.

Boris smiled and nodded, “Essential female skills. The floor will have to be washed and polished and the walls dusted down and there is a window that will need cleaning and measured for curtains.”

“Is right,” said Maria.

“But I’m with you, we’ve nearly finished preparing dinner,” I protested.

“Maria finish meal, there is nothing else to be done other than prepare for oven, if I need help, I call you.”

I glared at her, “That’s no way a mother should treat her daughter.”

She nodded, “Is exactly way to treat daughter, daughter must learn to keep house nice or husband leave.”

Boris went on; “On top of the value of the lesson, it’s only fair because that is to be your room for music practice.”

We brightened up then but Barbara, wise in the ways of prison authorities, asked innocently, “Just our music practice?”

This time Boris laughed, “No, we are fitting a small music system in there and bars and mirrors along one wall eventually, it is to be a dance studio and gym as well and somewhere for art classes, it will take the pressure of the common room. There’s about thirty stacking chairs in there which can be used if you want to give little concerts for the staff so put them somewhere where they won’t get in your way. The guards will be fetching up some cleaning equipment, mops buckets, dusters and, you’ll be pleased to hear, an electric floor polisher.”

As he spoke, we heard them coming along the corridor rattling and banging with our feminine skills equipment.

“Right,” said Boris, “Go and get out of your glam clothes and into your uniforms, there’s no point in dirtying your own stuff and there is a lot of dust in there.” So off we went to our rooms.

Shortly after, I was ready to start. I had a last thought and took a headscarf from a drawer and on the way back, tied it around my head. When I went into the room, I stopped and laughed, the others were all in there and they looked at me, “All this work, what’s funny,” asked Diane.

“It’s not the work, it’s us, we look like Lancashire mill girls.”

“You’re right,” agreed Barbara, “It’s the headscarves. I suppose we ought to get started. One collecting the litter and putting it into bin bags, one sweeping the floor to get the larger bits up, one hoovering and the other two dusting.”

I suspect Barbara had had some practise keeping house with Paul when they had a weekend together so we all fell into line and began.
Three hours later, it was almost done. Dusted, vacuumed, floor washed and furniture stacked neatly. All we had to do now was polish the floor which could be done tomorrow and bring up the two tubular framed tables from reception but when we stood back, the room looked okay; clean and bright, now all we needed were the instruments, practice and then, Royal Albert Hall, watch out.

We had a find when we tried to push the piano against the wall, there was a piano stool that matched the instrument and when Barbara lifted the seat we found a whole load of music scores, there was Beethoven, Elgar and Chopin as well as piano adaptations of a lot more classical composers and under them were music sheets that were obviously pre-war and including a whole load of what was then, pop music.

Going through them, Barbara gave a whoop, “Look here, Pomp and Circumstance No.1 and Rule Britannia, we can have a Last Night of the Cons.”
And in a light-hearted mood we went to dinner. Shortly after that, Boris joined us and when we had finished the meal and cleared away he took us into the Common Room. “Mixed news, we have found a cello, a flute, violin and a few music stands and surprise-surprise a harp. We are looking for other instruments and we’ll see what we can glean from other musical organisations in the county. There’s also a deal of sheet music being sent over and the library have promised to copy and let us have any pieces of theirs we require.

“Now on a more serious note. “You,” he looked directly at me, “Have a reputation in the main prison. In their words, you are a man hating ball crusher with a penchant for slitting throats.” The girls started giggling but Boris shut them up, “April, they think you are more dangerous than Bonnie and Clyde put together and Maeve, there’s a story that you have killed two prison inmates in petty arguments. So far, Barbara, they don’t know about you but if I know our guards at all, it won’t be long before you get to be known as Brutal Babs. Collectively you are known as the Café Killers, Pantie Paranoids or the Castrating Cons and the Governor of the prison has told me that inmates are now insisting on double guards if they have to come over here to work and won’t come in until you’ve all been locked in your rooms.”

Adam entered the room at that point and said, “Boris, I’ve just come from the main prison, what’s going on?”

Boris pointed at me, “Ask her.” And so I had to tell Adam about the meeting in the corridor and my comments to the prisoners.

He laughed, “You’re going to have to square it, give them a concert or something, and convince them you are really home loving girls.”

In a soft manner I think they were making a point. Prisoners spend too much time locked in their cells; we are the lucky ones in the Café. When people are bored with nothing to do except watch television, play a bit of pool, eat and talk to each other, any diversion is relief and what to me was a little light hearted banter gave fuel to bored men who embroidered the encounter and the retelling of the story turned it into a rumour and to some the rumour became fact. The majority of the men knew this and when they discovered some amongst their number who believed everything they were told, they gleefully added bits on.

I had no doubt that eventually I would be seen as some sort of avenging Queen Boadicea leading a tribe of Amazon like, bloodthirsty Iceni intent on killing Romans and if Romans weren’t available, any men would do. I stood up, “You do have a point, it’s my fault and I have to make amends and I’ll need you to help. The idea of a concert is a good one, we need to go over there and show them that we are soft, loving girls and we think the world of them.”

I waited to see their response, then April said, “I’ll help, we can do a couple of solos and maybe a duet.” Then they all started with ideas and I saw Boris nod at Adam and indicate the door and quietly they left.

We sat around for two or three hours and once or twice I glimpsed Maria listening to us at the hatch. Soon after that, there were yawns and it was time to go to bed. “If we can, tomorrow evening we should check out the instruments we have, look at the piano and start to tune up and maybe practice a little amongst ourselves.”

At breakfast, a pleasure I had to forgo because of the blood tests, the music immediately became the main topic of conversation and we started a little provisional planning. April and I would sing Delibes Flower Song duet and she would solo on Softly Awakes My Heart and I would do The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. Maeve said that if I could get hold of a clarinet we could do Elgar’s Nimrod and Barbara told us she thought she could do a movement from Beethoven’s Moonlight, she knew it but would need to practise and Maeve was prepared to solo the second movement of Elgar’s Cello Concerto and with a deal of hesitation, Diane offered to do a piece from Vaughan-William’s Lark Ascending. I thought about it for a little and said, “I think we ought to do some pop as well, make it as eclectic as possible a bit for everyone.”

“Bit difficult in a short concert, I should have thought the stuff we’ve mentioned already would more than fill the time.”

There were nods of agreement, “We need a producer and director really,” said Maeve “And a load of practice, even coaching.”

Maria came to the table, “Dance teacher friend of mine, she also teach music in other places, schools and colleges. I ask her to help if you like.”

“Would she?” I asked.

Maria shrugged, “Could always ask Boris to change dance lessons for music and maybe she come on evening once or twice.” She smiled, “She like you, tells me you good, interested in dance so she may want to help.”

I stood up. “I have to go and get ready for Paul when he arrives; I don’t care what the doctors say I’m staying me. Don’t write me out of the script, I’m doing the concert.”

Barbara got up, “We can’t write you out, it’s your concert, your idea.” She walked up to me and linked arms, “I’ll come with you and wait in reception until Paul picks you up.”

When he did arrive, five minutes early he wasn’t driving the mini-bus, he was driving a Lexus and wearing a chauffeur’s cap and a dark grey suit but the power of his physique was still there, he looked like one of those ex Special Forces driver come bodyguards. “Are you going on to another job after dropping Helen off?” asked Barbara.

“Nope, Adam phoned me last night to tell me about the concert that Helen’s trying to do and asked if I would be able to undertake extra work from time to time, fetching and carrying and escorting on the big night.”

“And?”

He grinned, “Helen’s a Super Star now, can’t have a super star travelling about in a bus can we, its limousine work that. I sent Bill off in the mini-bus and took this.”

Barbara turned to me, “See, men! I bet when he gives me a lift next time, he’ll rate me as Ford Mondeo.”

“Not you,” said Paul, “You get the Rolls Royce, the white one,” he looked at me, “Sorry Helen but don’t worry, I reckon you’ll get a ride in a white Rolls Royce soon.” He turned back to Barbara, “You got your shopping list?”

“Well if you get the chance,” she handed him a piece of paper. “Strings for the violin, cello and guitar, chalk for the stringed instruments and beeswax polish.”

He took the note from her and said, “Come on Super Star, let’s go.”

“No wait a sec,” I turned to Barbara, “Who’s paying for that?”

“I will it won’t come to much.”

“No you’re not, it’s my concert, I’m paying, wait, Paul, I’ll only be a moment,” and before anybody could answer, I flew through the reception door and went straight to Adam’s office. “Do I have any money left?”

“Yes, over a hundred pounds.”

“Can I have it and my cards, there’s one or two bits and pieces we need for the concert.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, the Café will pay.”

“I’m paying, please Adam,” and I held out my hand.

He shrugged, “Okay,” and when he handed me the envelope I took out the wallet, my flat keys with the cash and cards and gave back the envelope. He held out a sealed envelope, “Will you give this to the hospital doctor when you have the blood test done.”

I took the envelope and ran back to reception. Paul was in the driver’s seat and one of the Café guards was holding a rear passenger door open, “Come along Miss Finch,” I gave Barbara a quick kiss, “See you later.”

“Helen,” she pointed to her lips, pick me up a tube of this colour, mine’s nearly finished.”

I nodded and bent my head to get into the Lexus and the guard saluted, winked and closed it. I could hear Barbara laughing as we drove off.

In the next chapters, doctors and decisions – Will Helen cross the threshold into a new life?

[email protected]

Around Easter time I hope to be able to complete the next volume of Footprints in the Sea on Amazon and if I can I’ll put some of it here.
Vesta’s Hearth Vol 1 and Footprints in the Sea are already available on Amazon Kindle through The Hat Box/Top Closet link on the Home Page.

Vesta's Hearth 11 and 12

By

Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012
This is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Helen has a gender specific medical and is assessed but her future hangs in the balance. Her doubts and fears about the outcome frighten her and she feels that life is about to end and she visits her old apartment as a stranger.

11

When we arrived at the main prison a guard checked Paul’s identity and looked at the letter of authorisation, “Drive into the yard and wait, a guard will be coming with you and he’ll give you directions. He walked down to me and looked through the window and signalled that I lower it. “You’re Miss Finch?” I nodded and opened my bag to show him my prison ID but he waved my gesture away, “I’ve seen you over at the Café,” he grinned and nodded to Paul, “In you go, mate, careful with her, don’t want to go upsetting Miss Finch,” and he chuckled as he went to the main gate controls.

“God, Paul, what do they think of me in here?”

“Forget it Helen, he was pulling your leg.” And then he stopped again to pick up our escort.

When we entered the prison’s hospital wing I was surprised. This was no dreary grey cellblock; the walls were sunshine yellow and white, the floor was covered in deep green linoleum and there were pictures on the wall, prints of Old Masters, landscapes, modern cubism all bright and cheerful. We stopped at the counter and our escort said, “Miss Helen Finch for Doctor Freeman,” and we were nodded through.

Doctor Freeman’s office and the consulting rooms were on the first floor; a receptionist was at a desk typing, she looked up at me, “Helen Finch?” I nodded and she indicated some padded chairs, “Take a seat, they’ll be somebody out in a tic.”

“Er, will they be coming in with me?”

She smiled, “Those too uglies will sit quietly and wait for you here, if they went through that door, they wouldn’t see the light of day again until they could sing alto.
”
When I sat next to Paul he whispered, “I’ll get you for that.”

“We don’t have an alto in the concert group,” I answered and smiled warmly at him. A moment later a nurse came through a door, “Come on in, Helen,” and in I went, knees knocking but so far nobody had treated me any differently than I suspect they would have treated other patients but now I was going to have to undress.

“Sit in that chair for the blood sample,” she said pointing to a well-padded chair.

“I’ve got this letter,” I said opening my bag, “It’s for the doctor from Adam Worthington at the Café”

“She’ll be out in a moment, keep it till then.”

I slipped my cardigan off and she took it from me and I sat in the chair. A quick swab and she made me press on a vein and then the needle went in.

“I didn’t cry, where’s my mint humbug.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a cup of tea or coffee?”

“Wouldn’t I just, I’m suffering from caffeine withdrawal symptoms.”

“Well good girls are entitled to NHS coffee, will that do?”

I finished the coffee, felt a hundred times better and then the bomb dropped. “Pop into that cubicle and undress if you will, keep your bra and panties on for the moment.”

“Stockings?”

“Off,” she said, “They’ll get laddered.”

I did as I was told and felt a little better when I put the hospital dressing gown on, it was knee length and patterned with blue forget-me-nots. The nurse led me to the scales, noted my weight and measured my height, then produced a pair of callipers from the tray, “This will squeeze your flesh a little but doesn’t hurt,” and then she measured my bone diameters. “I wish I had your figure,” she said, “So slim. If I even look at a Malteser I put on a pound. You a twelve?”

I nodded, I couldn’t say yes, my voice would have cracked, here was a pretty nurse telling me she envied me my figure. When I did feel confident enough to speak I asked, “Is that your bedside manner?”

“What. Oh, no, I mean it, you’ve got a terrific figure, apart from the six pack,” she patted my stomach.

“What!” I looked down.

“Just kidding.”

I laughed, “You frightened me to death,” and then I realised she had put me totally at ease. Which I needed because then the doctor came in. She was a cheerful looking woman, late thirties I guessed. “All done,” she asked the nurse.

“All done.”

She held out a hand. “Amy Freeman, now it’s my turn to prod and poke,” she said as we shook hands. She then proceeded to lift each arm and run her hands along the length, then I turned round and she did the same with my legs and made me rest against the wall whilst she bent each leg at the knee, then back to my arms and bending them and when she finished that, as cool as a cucumber she asked, “Can you undo your bra and hold it up, I need to check your chest. I looked up as I felt her measure across my chest over the nipples and then the bra band line and then she measured the aureole and finally the nipples, where she frowned for a moment. “Okay you can do it up again,” I sighed with relief but I was too quick, as soon as my bra was in place, she said, “Pull your briefs` down a bit.” I shut my eyes and thought of England and did as she asked and felt her gently squeezing and weighing with her hand. “Right, all done. You can get dressed now, you okay.”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Right get your clothes on and we’ll go into my office and have a chat and a cup of coffee.”

“There’s a letter from Adam Worthington.”

“Okay, I’ll take that now,” and she followed me to the cubicle took the letter and said to the nurse, “As soon as Helen is ready, bring her into my office.”

I dressed again and the nurse tapped, “Can I come in?”

I pulled back the curtain, “Yes, all finished.”

She held out a mirror and brush in one hand and a mint humbug in the other, “I knew I had one of these somewhere in a desk drawer, I don’t know how long it’s been there so keep the wrapper in case you need to spit it out.”

I laughed, “Cos I didn’t cry.”

“Yes it was your first medical like this,” she indicated my skirt. “I thought you were brave, it must have been an ordeal.”

“It was a bit, what’s the doctor going to do now?”

“Nothing except questions and answers. Are you the girl they’re all talking about here?”

“Oh my God, has it reached you as well.”

“You’re famous, when I heard it, I fell over laughing and so did Amy.”

“It was probably well embroidered.”

She nodded but never-the less you are famous.”

“More like infamous,” I handed back the mirror and as we walked to the doctor’s office she asked, “Paul told us you are putting a concert together for the prisoners, is it true?”

“Yes but we won’t be ready for a few weeks.”

“Will you send us some tickets, I wouldn’t want to miss it, I have a feeling you’re going to be a hit.”

“I’ll see you get them, near the front.
”
I went into the office and Doctor Amy was writing busily in a folder. “Sit down, Helen, I just have to give this to Ronnie.”

“Ronnie?”

“Veronica, the nurse outside. “When she came back, she stopped for a moment behind my chair, “Excuse me a moment, I want to look at your hair,” I felt her moving the loose end of my ponytail, “You have a soft wave underneath, why did you do it up in a ponytail?”

“I thought it would be better for you, not getting in the way, its shoulder length.”

She said nothing and went round to her seat, “No more prodding,” she smiled, “Just questions and the first is; now it is essential you tell the truth, Helen, if you deny something or give us the wrong information you could risk making yourself very ill, possibly even precipitating your death. Hormones are a part of our lives; they govern a lot more than gender. Now,” she had a very direct look, “Prior to coming here, have you every experimented with progesterone or estrogen, tried it perhaps either or both, taken a girl friend’s birth control pills?”

“Never, it never occurred to me, and I’m sure I didn’t take them in error, I have never been prescribed, no never, I’m certain.”

She nodded and wrote in the file. Again, prior to here, did you have any homosexual experiences?”

“You mean sleeping with a man?”

“Or kissing, cuddling except of course a father, brother or other close relative.”

“No.”

“You’re certain.”

“As certain as anybody can be, certainly not since I reached the age of awareness and knew the difference between homosexual and heterosexual.”
“Did you have thoughts about it, thought it might be interesting to try or fancied another man?”

“No. Look would it make it easier if I told you that before the rape thing, I had no knowledge of this wanting to be a woman business, I thought I was a normal, heterosexual man, I had a few girlfriends and slept with them sometimes.”

“How often?” she smiled, “Don’t brag.”

I grinned back, “Nothing to brag about, I don’t know what the statistics are for unmarried males of my age but I can bet I am below the average. Without thinking hard about it and counting carefully, I would say probably about six or seven times.”

“Did you ever want to get married or wished you were married?”

“Not really, I worked hard, didn’t have a lot of time for relationships. The longest I was with one girl was a little over two months. I never seemed to find the time after that. I wasn’t one for partying so I suppose I never spent a lot of time in places where people meet the opposite sex socially.”

“How did you get on with the girls where you worked?”

“Fine, we worked well together, men and women.”

“And your job there was what?”

“Ideas as much as anything. I wasn’t the only one, I was part of a team but generally we would be given a product, a lot of tech stuff, told the intended market and then I got to work producing what we call a story board for a television ad. That’s a series of drawings showing roughly how we want the film made. Then there would be brain storming sessions and eventually I would produce the finished drawings and we would show that to the client with the copy and other details concerning media to be used, but my main task was to get it off the ground with the original idea.”

“What sort of products did you work on?”

“The last one was perfume and cosmetics, a big account and we won it against all the main agencies but before that, all sorts of things, soaps, detergents, soft furnishings all sorts.”

There followed another half hour of questions and then Amy asked me two that I thought a little unusual; “When did you last shave your body hair?”
“The day I went to the Café.”

“That was what three weeks ago. You haven’t done it since?”

“No.”

“Did you shave, use a depilatory cream, epilator or waxing?”

“Cream.”

“Last question; when did you last shave your face, normal day to day shave I mean?”

“Monday.”

“That’s it then, Helen. Now you’ve got to see the other doctor in Chichester?”

“Yes,” I looked at my watch, “About an hour and a half.”

“You have time for lunch then but I would suggest you use somewhere outside; prison food is not haute cuisine.”

I got up to go, “Can I ask a question?”

“Fire away.”

“Are you a medical doctor or a psychiatrist?”

“Medicine, I specialise as an endocrinologist.”

“Hormones, things like that.”

“Yes, hormones and the effects they have on the body.”

“I see so my next port of call is to get my head examined?”

She laughed, “There’s nothing up there to worry you. You have a team behind you now, Boris and Adam at the Café, me here and Peter Thompson in Chichester, we are good at our jobs and always feel free to ask to see any of us at any time if you have a worry, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, “It’s just that I am worried that things seemed to have happened so suddenly.”

“Nothing to worry about there, we are interested and need to know why because we will have to treat you and of course we need to know everything we can to ensure our treatment is right for you.”

“Tell me this then, what am I. Three weeks ago I was a normal hetero male. Now, you tell me what I am.”

Amy stood up and took me by the arm and walked me to the door and answered as she opened it, “Helen, you have the bone weight, facial features, hair and skin type, mannerisms and voice of a female, I can’t say much more than that this early in your treatment but as far as I am concerned, I see before me a very pretty young woman.”

“Dead right,” agreed Ronnie, “I could walk past you a thousand times and not think you were anything else, and I hate you for your figure.”

“You’ve got bigger boobs than me, Ronnie.”

They laughed and I left them, my worst ordeal of the day over and only a shrink to deal with now.

Paul stopped at a nice pub on the way to Chichester and we had a light lunch, well I did, he had a steak and kidney pie. We started off again and then I remembered the shopping list, “We need to go shopping after the doctor, will Adam or Boris mind if we’re a bit late, there’s something else I need to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Well if you wouldn’t mind and the Café okay it, I need to go to my old apartment and collect my clarinet and I suppose I should pick up my mail.”

“Wasn’t that redirected by the post office?”

“Yes but I want to make sure nothing slipped through. I’m going to sell the apartment and get a new place but the important thing is the clarinet.”

“Where is it? Your flat I mean?”

“South part of the town,” I jotted the address down and gave it to him, “You won’t know it, it’s a small cul-de-sac off a side turning.”

He glanced at the paper, “No but that’s no prob, he reached into his pocket and produced the iPod I had bought for him, “There’s a sat-nav on this, it was a gift from some ditzy bird I know.”

I laughed, “I must have had this trip in mind when I got it for you.”

The psychiatrist, Peter Thompson was easier, a lot easier. Lots of questions, a few inkblot cards to look at, more questions and then he was done. “We will be having a meeting next week to discuss your case, Amy, Adam, Boris and I and then we will see you again, in the meantime Amy has asked for a scan on your lower abdomen.

“Scan. Why does she require that?”

“Wants to see if there are any signs of female reproductive organs.”

“Womb you mean?”

“That and ovaries, traces of fallopian tubes.”

“Is that possible?”

“It’s unlikely but yes, possible.”

“What gave her that idea?”

“I don’t think she was given an idea so much as being mystified by the suddenness of your switch and I agree with her. We need to know what made you suddenly adapt yourself to being female.”

“You and me both. It scares me still.”

“Helen, after the incident with the girl, the incident that ended with you being charged with rape, did you feel any remorse or guilt?”

I thought about that and then shook my head, “Not really, I never believed I had raped her, it was she that took hold of me and inserted me into her. I felt sorrow a little, wondered why she had done it.”

“But you didn’t hate yourself for what happened?”

“No.”

“And the first day in the Café when you were dressed in the uniform, how did you feel.”

“Scared about what was going to happen to me, how long I was going to be in there, what came after.”

“What about the female uniform?”

“Nothing much, a bit or resentment, embarrassed.”

“You didn’t find yourself excited or hate them?”

“Not really, I thought it a bit silly but no love or hate. I had been found guilty of rape and Adam explained why I was wearing the clothes and I didn’t think any more of it…that’s not quite true. I do remember thinking about the knickers and wondering why, if they wanted us to empathise with women, they didn’t make us wear something more feminine, lacy panties, stuff like that.”

“You told Amy that you had never experimented with cross-dressing?”

“I have remembered one incident, I think I was about six at the time. My mother was sorting out the washing and asked me to go into their bedroom and bring some of her clothes that she had left on a chair. There was a blouse and a bit of lingerie and I vaguely remember thinking how nice the lingerie felt and once or twice since then, one occasion particularly when I had been driving for a long while and my underpants had started cutting into me, I wondered why men wore such heavy underwear and not have our Y fronts or boxers made out of the lighter, smoother materials that are used for women’s lingerie.”

“Pretty, lacy you mean?”

“No, just lighter, smoother.”

“Would you be comfortable if I asked you to undo your blouse and let me have a look at your chest?”

“Yes, but I’ll do it,” I smiled, “Are you a tit man?”

He chuckled and when I had unbuttoned my blouse, he lifted my bra and looked at my non-boobs but only for a minute or two then nodded, “Okay, thank you.”

“Is there a problem there, Amy seemed to spend a bit of time looking at them?”

“Not a problem. You’re healthy, no lumps or anything like that but you do have a little more flesh than your general physique would indicate, the nipples are slightly larger than is normal on a man and the areola also larger.”

“Man boobs?”

“I would accept that if you had more fat elsewhere but you haven’t”.

“I am being treated with estrogen.”

“Yes but the dose is too low to produce that effect. Did you notice them before you joined the Café?"

“No, they seemed to have grown, if that’s the word, after I joined.”

“Right, that’s it then, don’t worry about your chest, there is nothing nasty lurking there and we’ll have our meeting and see you again in a week.”

“I have to ask you the same question that I asked Amy…”

“Who or what are you?”

“Yes.”

“Amy has written it in your report, she spoke to me on the phone and told me what she told you. I agree with her, Helen, you are a pretty young woman. More than that I can’t say until I’ve seen the reports of your blood tests and had our meeting. But carry on as you are, don’t feel you need to alter the way you are or how you are reacting until then, unless of course, you want to.”

“No, I’m happy with me at the moment.”

“That’s it for the time being. One thing though, the next time we meet I want you to wear the clothes you want to wear.”

“Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing today?”

“No, they’re fine, feminine, practical but I sense you dressed more for a medical examination than an interview. Wear the hair the way you prefer, wear clothes you would normally pick for a meeting with somebody, a friend.”

“Okay, I’ll dazzle you.”

I left his office and Paul asked, “Where next?”

“Well I need to get some lipstick for Barbara and the music stuff and then call at my flat. Whichever best suits you. The shopping won’t take long.”
He looked at me sideways, “Oh yeah.”

I smiled. “Really. I’ll need an ATM and I would be happy spending a few thousand on clothes and things but I’ll leave all that until I’ve gone a bit further down the road with my treatment, my sizes may alter.”

“I believe you. Right the music shop is close to the High street and the lipstick shops are in the High Street and there are two or three ATMs so we’ll use the same car park.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“If you want me to, it’s daylight and if you’d rather I didn’t, I’ll wait in the car.”

“No come with me, I know you like to be seen with a tasty bird on your arm.”

He nodded and chuckled, “That’s true, especially one that has a reputation at the prison.”

Less than an hour later I stood outside the door to my apartment, the keys in my hand, hesitating. “Something wrong?” asked Paul quietly, his voice soft.

“Not really wrong, it’s that I’m not sure I want to go in there again, see something of my old life, the lie I seemed to have lived all these years.”

He took the keys out of my hand and opened the door and stood to one side. “Go in there, Helen and face it and ask yourself which you want, your old life back or the new one you have begun to build.”

I nodded and went in. Originally I intended to go straight to the bedroom and collect my clarinet from the wardrobe but I didn’t. I walked into the kitchen, touched a few things, checked that the fridge had been emptied as my solicitor had arranged and then I went into the sitting room and stood looking around. There was nothing except a good reproduction of Turners ‘Fighting Temeraire’ and a few music discs. “Can I take that picture and the music discs with me, just the ones in the green case and my laptop?”

“Of course, plenty of room in the car. You go and check the other rooms and I’ll put this lot beside the door.”

I went into the bedroom and again stood in the door looking in. “There was still a hint of my deodorant, my man deodorant but everything else seemed alien, it was as if I had entered another person’s room, a stranger. I went to the wardrobe, opened the door and stood back. Just clothes, the clothes of a stranger and I felt no yearning to touch them, take them with me, nothing, they belonged to somebody else. I reached up to the shelf and took down my clarinet case, opened the lid and took it out. I ran my hands down it and sighed, this did belong to me and had no business in the wardrobe of a stranger and I smiled, turned around and went to the street door.

“That the lot?” asked Paul, “Just these few bits and bobs?”

“I suspect there will be other things I will want to keep but nothing I yearn for. Paul, this is the flat of a stranger, I feel like an intruder.” I picked up the laptop, “Can you manage the rest?” and I walked away and didn’t feel any regret.

I remained silent in the car for the first ten minutes and Paul left me to my thoughts. Eventually I stirred, “There is one fear I have now.”

“What’s that?”

“I am frightened that something will happen to change me back to the way I was. Paul, when I walked into that apartment, I felt nothing, no longing, no regrets, nothing. I want to keep what I am now and am terrified that I will wake up one morning and want to go back to that place, that life.”
He slowed the car a little and looked across at me, “Helen that is not going to happen. I’ve told you before, you’re Barbara’s twin and it never happened to her. You’re Helen, will stay Helen and one day, some lucky bloke is going to win your heart and love you.”

I leaned across the seat, put my arm around him, hugged him, kissed his cheek and leaned back before he had an accident.
He just smiled. Five minutes later I remembered something, “Oh my God!”

“What’s up?”

“The car. At the back of the apartment block there is a private car park, I have a black Porsche parked there. I can’t leave that, it’s only three years old.”

“Want me to collect it for you?”

“No, not for me. I’m not a Porsche girl.”

“What then, you want me to sell it for you?”

“Would you, if you want it for yourself I’ll let you have it for what you want to pay.”

“Barbara is not a Porsche girl either and I have three Rolls Royces, a Bentley, two Mercs, a Lexus, Range Rover and the mini bus, I don’t need a Porsche. I’ll sell it for you.”

“What do you need all those cars for?”

“I own a chauffeur driven hire service. Porsches aren’t best suited to that type of work. Do you want me to look for a good car for you?”

I ran my hand over the dashboard of the Lexus, “Not now, I think I might develop a taste for limousines, chauffeur driven ones.” I grinned at him, “You got any good looking drivers working for you?”

“Loads, I’ll stick your requirements on the notice board.”

12

We entered the Café to find it filled with music, there seemed to be practice sessions going on everywhere. I could dimly hear the piano from the rehearsal room, a cello was playing in the common room and April was singing a Ruby Murray hit in the kitchen. Adam’s head popped round the corner of his office door, “Ah, Helen can you come in, there is somebody here you should meet.”

“You want me to put the stuff in your room,” asked Paul.

“Please, and these I said putting the clarinet and laptop on the floor beside my door,” and then I went into Adam’s room. There was a stranger sitting at the side of Adam’s desk and he rose as I entered. Adam brought a chair for me, “This is Allen our third mentor, Allen, Helen Finch our new pupil.”

Allen stepped forward and offered his hand, when I placed mine in it he closed it gently and gave a small shake; “I’ve heard a lot about you already and it’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

“Lot about me?”

He nodded, “And Maria has ordered me to report to you, said something about concert duties.”

“Ordered you?” I glanced towards Adam.

“Asked really but a request from Maria is as good as an order. Refuse without good cause and the coffee becomes bitter, the ham sandwiches curl and the biscuits are soft.”

I smiled at him; I liked Allen, “That sounds like Maria. We are putting on a concert for the main prison and we need some help.”

“I can dance a little, sing a little but have been advised not to give up the day job.”

“Another Fred Astaire then?”

Almost but I do belong to a music society and will be happy to help where I can.”

What’s your singing voice, tenor?”

“Yes.”

“Opera?”

A little and musicals but I never had the lead.”

“La Boheme?”

“Yes but not Rodolfo.”

“How about the love duet.”

“I know it.”

“You’re hired, the pay is zero, no holiday entitlement but all the tea and coffee you can drink and I’ll guarantee the ham sandwiches won’t be curly.”

“Sounds like a good deal, I’ll take it.”

“Are you staying for a while this evening?”

“I’m duty mentor.”

“Oh good, we can chat later. The voice you can hear singing Softly, Softly is April I would like her to partner you in The Love Duet or Lovely Maid in the Moonlight. She’s not Soprano but I think you would be able to get around that.”

“Our April?”

“Yes, have you not heard her sing before?”

“No, never, she sings well.”

“Go up and see her, ask her to sing Softly Awakes My Heart.”

Allan glanced at Adam, “Is that okay with you?”

“Fine, I need to speak to Helen anyway.”

Allan left and Paul appeared, “Stuffs in your room, I put everything against the wardrobe.” He looked at Adam, “Will it be okay if I pop up and see Barbara for a minute or two before I leave?”

“Go ahead,” and Paul vanished. “Helen, I have some news for you.”

He closed the door and returned to his desk, “First, the girl in your rape case has been interviewed by the police again and there are inconsistencies in her story, enough to raise doubts. I’ll give you the details later but for the moment you’re sentence has been suspended subject to further enquiries. To all intents and purposes you can come and go as you please and you have no obligation to undertake any of the chores. But there may be a snag; we started your treatment so we are obliged to see that it is continued until a full assessment of your condition has been made but the Governor has said the Prison Service may require you to find outside accommodation.”

“I was afraid of that. Oh Adam, I wish this hadn’t happened.”

He smiled, “Don’t worry, the Governor, Boris and I put our heads together and we’ve come up with a solution that will certainly see us through a few months. There is a live-in vacancy here for a further member of staff on the domestic side. It was never filled because there was no need. If you agree, we can employ you in that position for a probationary period and it means you can keep the room.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Whoa, you don’t know the conditions of service. The pay is low but you are entitled to meals when on duty. Four weeks holiday a year,” he grinned, “And a modest clothing allowance.”

“I said I’d do it.”

“What about your duties?”

“What are they?”

“Carry on as you are, even the concert, you can be a part of that because it involves prisoners and staff.” He grinned again, “But that means you will have to go back to your chores as well.”

“I don’t care, I would have done that anyway if I had stayed as a free patient.”

“The other news is your legal position with regard to your new status, living as a female…”

“Adam, I am a female I’m not just living as one, I am one.”

“Not legally, not yet. I have arranged for you to see a solicitor, he was the one who handled your case. He knows about you and of course he knows the full position with regard to the case. He has said he would be happy to take you on as a client and help you with your name changes and eventually the amendments to your official records, birth certificate, driving license, National Insurance, that sort of stuff. If it suits you he can come here next Monday morning as he has business at the prison. How do you feel about him taking your case?”

“Okay. I met him several times when the case was on, he represented me well and got me out of the prison I was destined for and into your care and he’s a nice man. You say he knows all about me?”

“All that the Data Protection Act will allow me to tell him. He knows you’re transitioning and he’s done that work before.”

“Good, I want him to handle everything. There is the other meeting; well there are two really. I will need to speak to my financial advisor about my investments and stuff after I have spoken to the solicitor but the important one is about me. I know you have arranged a meeting with Amy and Peter and that they will want to speak to me again soon after but I’m worried a bit about what happened to me and why they seem concerned. They did try to reassure me but I still worry.”

“That’s understandable. First they are certain you have nothing physically wrong with you…”

“Peter told me that but Amy wants me to have a scan, she wants to know if I’m female inside.”

“Not quite, she wants to know if there are any signs of development of internal female reproductive organs during your embryonic stage. Ovaries, uterus, that sort of thing.”

“And if there are?”

“Helen I specialise in psychiatry it would be better if that was left to Amy to discuss with you. She has said that if there are any, they do seem to be having an impact on your life, the suddenness of the recent desire of yours to be recognised as female aside. Sorry, I put that badly, I mean your recognition of your true gender, does that sound better.”

“More accurate.” I smiled. “So what do I do now?”

“Carry on as you are, you are happy, the others like you a lot and you seem to be enjoying yourself. The only concern I have is your naivety, you do not possess the normal defensive mechanisms that women have when it comes to men.”

“You mean I might be vulnerable and allow a man to take advantage of me?”

“Yes. For that reason, if you do decide to go out for a day or an evening I advise you to go with somebody else.”

“Get a trusty boyfriend you mean?”

“Not necessarily a boyfriend. There’s Paul, Allan, Boris, myself, Barbara, Maria, any of the people you know and who you can trust.”

“Wow, all those escorts, beautiful women, dishy men I’m gonna have a whale of a time.”

“Get out of here and go sort your concert out.”

“Spoil sport.”

I did have a whale of a time but not hitting the town but getting the concert off the ground. Allen had virtually become a full time member of the group and May, the dancing teacher was an enthusiastic instructor and slowly took on the role of producer. It wasn’t all plain sailing, there were arguments, never serious and quickly resolved and there was practice, practice, practice until our calves ached, our lips were sore and our throats, at times, felt as if we had severe laryngitis but it was taking shape.

I had my meeting with the solicitor and arrangements were made with the banks and credit companies so that initially a second name could be added to the accounts, that of Helen Vesta Finch so now I wouldn’t have problems when presenting my cards or calling into the banks. I also asked him to arrange for the sale of my apartment, there was no way I would ever go back there to live and I asked Paul if he and Barbara would like to come with me one day and take a look at the furniture and see if there was anything they could use for their own place. This started an argument when they insisted that anything they took they would pay for but I won that by first reminding them I was family and family often gave things like that to each other and as they would be getting married when Barbara left the Café. It was my wedding present to them. Paul also sold the car and another argument started when I insisted that he take a seller’s commission he had after all acted as my agent. We both won that, I wanted him to give me only what a dealer would have paid had I sold it that way but after a while, he got me to agree to his receiving half of a dealers profit.
So one way and another I burned my bridges except for the job. To my surprise the agency wanted me back even though they knew about my transitioning. They pointed out that I was still a valuable asset as a graphic artist and an ideas girl. Again there was a compromise, I agreed to work freelance for them until we all adapted to the new me and then perhaps consider going back as a full time employee. They were okay with that but did urge me to hurry up and get settled because there wasn’t much I could do whilst at the Café.

There were evenings, in my room when I had serious worries. It was all going too well; nobody ever had that much luck and happiness without a cost and at times I felt as if I was waiting for the bomb to drop. I got out of these moods quickly enough once we were rehearsing and then the day came when I had to speak with my doctors and mentors again, this was another decision day but this time the decision would not be just mine to make.

The morning I set off with Boris and Adam to meet Amy and Peter at the prison hospital, I was so frightened I kept getting tears in my eyes and hardly said a word on the trip. Adam and Boris allowed me to ride quietly, there was no false optimism, no remarks like, ‘It’s going to be all right,’ they allowed me enough space to think, wipe away tears and remain inside myself, they knew what I was going through and also knew that anything they said would likely make things worse rather than better.

I had dressed as Peter had suggested. Pure girl in the yellow dress, petticoat and the prettiest undies I had; rings, earrings, bracelets and watch. My hair was down and curled into its soft waves. I had the small shoulder bag onto which I had stuck a pink poodle. I was stating very firmly I’m a girl now. And that was how it was to stay regardless of what any doctors thought. We stopped at the prison gates and a warder came out. It was the man who had escorted us around the hospital on my last visit. He nodded and smiled at me and went to Paul who already had the documents ready. He checked them and looked inside the car and recognising the passengers he was about to wave Paul on when I called out, “No wait.”

They all looked at me, “I need to get out for a moment before we go in.” The warder started to open the door but Boris leaned across from the centre seats and said, “If you want the ladies, there are better ones in the hospital.”

“No, I just want to get out and look at the countryside for a moment, just stand a little while.” Boris understood immediately and nodded at the warder, “We won’t be long, will it be okay?”

“Yes, of course,” he held the door wide, “Come on Miss Finch, take all the time you want,” and he held out his hand and helped me out of the car. I walked back down the road just a dozen paces and stood, my arms hanging loosely at my side. The prison was out of sight behind me and in front there was a common, gently hilly with a large copse of trees to the right. To the left, barely visible were some houses and I guessed they were for prison staff. The common stretched before me, studded here and there with small groups of trees and bushes before rising slowly to the horizon about a half-mile away. It was the first week of September and a warm day and I hardly needed the cardigan draped around my shoulders. I could feel a breeze playing with my hair and the hem of my skirt and I let it happen enjoying the feeling, looking at the sky and its sparse groups of white clouds. I just stood there, listening to the birds, the hum of insects until about five minutes later I felt a presence beside me. It was the warder and he looked at me for a moment and said, “You have the appearance of somebody who is taking a last look at the view before entering the prison for a long sentence.”

“Something like that, I feel like a condemned woman about to be executed and regretting she would never see a day like this again.”

“Yes. Are you going to get seriously bad news in there?”

“Maybe. You know who I am?”

“Yes of course, I was with you the last time you came, I know the purpose of the clinic when Amy is there.”

“I am going in to be told my future today. Amy and the others are going to make a decision as to whether I can continue being who I am or must go back to my old self.”

A sad look came into his eyes and he placed his hand on my shoulder. “You must do what you want to do, Miss Finch, as far as me and the lads are concerned you are a nice lady and will always be one. If those people inside have an ounce of sense, you will come out still looking pretty and smiling at us.”

“You’ve made me feel better, I can go back, thank you for this moment.”
“You’re welcome,” and he gently took my arm and walked me back to the car, “I would ask you one thing before you go. Will you make sure some of us get tickets for the concert?”

I turned to him and kissed his cheek and got into the car, “I promise,” I said as he closed the door.

“Where did you get that dress?” asked Amy as we went into her office, “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“The Retro shop in Chichester.”

“Let me have the address before you go, it’s out of this world,” she came closer and asked me to hold my arms out, “God it’s you.”
And then she changed and became all business. “Ronnie will get us coffee shortly but I suspect you would like to know the results of the tests and scan.” And without waiting for me to reply she opened a folder and then looked at me. “First the blood workout. All your vital signs are okay, liver, kidney and cholesterol; all fine but there is one anomaly. Your hormone balance is all over the place. The estrogen is very high, the testosterone very low, nearer a woman’s level and it can’t be explained by your hormone treatment, it was too low a dose to produce that effect. That leads us to,” she turned a page over, “The scan and sperm count. Hope you didn’t mind my adding the later to the test when you went to the county hospital?”
I shook my head, “Embarrassing and a bit difficult.”

“Why difficult?”

“They gave me girly books to look at and they were no good, I would have done better with hunks in trunks so I just shut my eyes and used my imagination.”

She nodded and smiled,” I should have told them, sorry, but we did get a sample.” She looked at me, “Not good, exceptionally low for a man of your age, a healthy man that is. Had you got married, Helen you would never have sired children with that level and would have required a longish regime of testosterone treatment and that may not have been successful. That leads to the scan.” She closed the folder, “Are you comfortable with the men in here, doctors or not?”

“Yes, go ahead please.”

“Right. I had my suspicions confirmed. During the period you were in the womb your body had started forming female reproductive organs and then something happened to make your brain change its mind and send signals to produce male. You have two ovaries, traces of the fallopian tubes and the suggestion of a uterus. Apart from the ovaries, the rest are just suggestions of their presence but the ovaries are complete. Now we think what probably happened is the shock of the rape charge and your imprisonment started those ovaries of into doing their job and they probably produced ovarian eggs.” She looked at me closely, “You understand what I’m saying.”

“I think you are suggesting I may be hermaphrodite?”

“In a way yes. Not completely; human hermaphrodites usually have both sets of sex organs and a vagina and penus, one of those is primary and the second smaller and less formed but there none the less. You don’t have that. Your testes are small and your penus below average but there is no sign of a vagina either externally or internally other than your scrotum which has a more pronounced suggestion of separation than is usual. The ovaries are producing normal levels of estrogen and that would explain the sudden, as you describe then, girly thoughts and the rapid and unusual change in your nipples and breast tissue. Your body is trying to catch up and even our small doses of hormones accelerated that growth. Now, have you experienced hot flushes, moodiness, headaches and depression or short temperedness since you came into the Café?”

“Yes twice, the first was a few days after I joined, I kept feeling hot and then it would go away and I was depressed. I just put it down to being in a prison. The second time was last week, same sort of thing but again I put it down to the worry of what was happening to me and the pressure of the concert.”

“Helen, they were the equivalent of a woman’s menstruation. Your ovarian eggs formed and had nowhere to go but the ovaries increased their production of estrogen. The eggs were absorbed back into the body because there was no uterus and the body doesn’t throw away useful tissue so reclaimed them.”

I shook my head, “I could fertilize myself!”

She smiled, “No, your sperm is too weak and it would have no way of reaching the egg, the routes are not joined. I also think the ovaries may stop producing the eggs soon if they have not done so already but the estrogen will probably continue to be produced at female levels and your testosterone and sperm count will continue to fall.”

“So what happens now?”

“We stop the hormone injections, you are producing all you need on your own and if we continue, it we would increase your risk of a stroke.”
“So I have to go back to being a man?” And that was my most urgent question, was it over for Helen?

Amy sat back in her chair, “Peter and I have discussed this and we are both of the same opinion. It would be in your best interests to continue as you are…”

I punched the air in a very unfeminine manner, “Helen gets to live, blossom, I can stay female?”

She smiled but shook her head, “Hear me out. If you want, and it appears you don’t, we can operate and remove the ovaries and stop the production of the estrogen but I doubt you will ever be a fully functioning male again. Your testes may get back to normal but I seriously doubt it and so does everybody else. If you continue along your seemingly preferred path you will be able to function as a woman, even enjoy normal love-making but you will never become pregnant. Not even if we allowed the ovaries to continue producing their eggs and if we do that then we would have to remove your testes to ensure there was absolutely no chance of an ectopic pregnancy, that is an egg being fertilised and attaching itself to something outside the uterus. It happens in about one percent of pregnancies and an operation is needed to remove it or the woman dies.”

“Will that change my personality, make me into a different me?”

“Not to a large extent, you will be you, perhaps even a happier you and any changes in personality will be from an increasing preference to things female,”

I looked at Adam but spoke to everybody, “Are you happy with the diagnosis,” I asked with a big smile on my face. Each of them nodded and Peter added, “We cannot advise you which path to take we can only give you the facts and we are going to ask for second opinions and I have already spoken to Charing Cross Hospital in London, they have the best gender clinic in Britain, possibly the world and they said yes, they want to see you. Even then, they can only give you the facts, the final decision must be yours.”

“That final decision is already made. So when do I have to go up to London for more prodding, poking and squeezing?”

“More than once, I’m afraid Helen, they will need to make a lot of tests and scans,” said Amy “And then you have to make up your mind about gender re-assignment surgery.”

I nodded and remembered the decision that Barbara and Paul had made, “I’ll make that decision when the time comes; meanwhile I can carry on being Helen, that’s what matters to me. The sun had vanished when I came here today; it’s out now and shining brightly.”

Amy got up from her chair, came round and gave me a hug, “I’m so happy we had good news for you.”

“The best,” I said and we both started laughing as we wiped tears from our eyes. “Mind you, I will still want to see you every month to check your hormone levels and watch for complications.”

“You can prod away all you like now.”

“I’ll need to see you as well,” added Peter.

Amy took me by the arm, “Come on, Ronnie has bought more humbugs and happy tears don’t disqualify you. And I want that retro shop address.”
“Why not come with me, I’m going there next week.”

“Wednesday morning?”

“Fine, I’ll charm Paul into coming with us, if not we’ll find somebody to drive us.”

“No, we’ll take my car, I’ll pick you up at the Café. Girls only.”

On the way out we stopped at the main gate again and my favourite warder was still on duty. I got out of the car after he had checked and signed us out, “How did it go in there?” he asked.

“I’m an excellent prisoner, I am doing exactly what you instructed me to do.” He looked puzzled, “I’m leaving here smiling.” I kissed him on the cheek again and got back into the car, he had a grin on his face as Paul drove away.

On the way back I asked Boris if he would stop at an off-licence.

In the next chapters; Doctor Amy discovers the retro bug is highly infectious and takes Helen on a shopping trip to the retro shop but Helen is identified as being transgendered Later Dr. Amy drops a bombshell that involves Adam. Helen discovers the problems with mini-skirts and stocking tops before she is suddenly taken ill and collapses.

Vesta's Hearth and Footprints in the Sea are available through the Hatbox Amazon Kindle link on the Home Page.

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Vesta’s Hearth Chapters 13 and 14

By

Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012

This is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Doctor Amy discovers the retro bug is highly infectious and takes Helen on a shopping trip but Helen is identified as being transgendered Later Dr. Amy drops a bombshell that involves Adam. Helen discovers the problems with mini-skirts and stocking tops before she is suddenly taken ill and collapses.

13

Somebody had seen the approach of the limousine for when we entered the reception area of the Café, both duty warders were standing just inside the door with George, the warder in charge, standing slightly in front with an expectant look on his face.

“Miss Finch?”

I turned to Paul, “Can I have one of the bottles.”

I handed it to George; “You’re not allowed to drink on duty but here’s champagne for everyone later.”

He nodded solemnly, “As I expected. Welcome back and you’re a sight for sore eyes if ever I saw one.” He unlocked the door into the corridor and held it open and with Boris and Adam behind me, I went back home.

Paul stopped at the threshold and handed me the bag containing the champagne bottles and shopping, “Here. This moment is for you and the girls, I’ll buzz off.”

At the far end of the corridor stood those girls with Maria and May. “You go ahead, Helen, Adam and I have work to catch up on,” and Boris went with Adam into his office. With a poker face I walked towards my bestest ever friends. Barbara opened her mouth to speak but still with a poker face I went to May; “Madam Producer I must tell you that you still have two contraltos’.”

The penny didn’t drop with the others but it did with May, “Miss Finch I am pleased to hear it and now if you would kindly go to the rehearsal room, you have a dance lesson.”

“If I might beg your indulgence for a moment,” I turned to Maria and despite the heavy bag of champagne bottles I managed a graceful curtsey, “Mother, I am to remain your Two Spirit Daughter.”

Maria stared at me and then the tears fell and she stepped forward, “Oh thanks to God” and her arms went around me and she hugged and I felt a hand take the bottles from me. When I did get free from Maria I looked at Barbara, “And you still have a little sister and then we went mad with hugs and kisses.
Eventually we quietened down and went into the kitchen where Maria immediately had me helping to make tea, “No reason for daughter not to be good hostess,” she said and with a piny over my yellow dress I worked at my own celebration. “You not need help me to prepare dinner,” she smiled a big warm smile, a really big warm smile, “Mother let daughter have dance lesson as reward.”

So rehearsal we had and Allen joined us and May had the two of us jiving to Bill Hayley, and I didn’t stumble or try to stop my skirt and petticoat flying out and Diane called out. “Go for it Helen, rock your socks off.” The others watched and when we tired, it was their turn and we worked until six and dinner was ready.

The girls and May went into the kitchen and I excused myself and went down to Boris’s office, “We are partying after dinner and I would like you to come, please suspend regulations it won’t be the same if you refuse and we have three bottles of champagne so we need your help to finish them.”
I waited, my hands clasped in front of me, “We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Boris we’ll be up in thirty minutes.

I suppose that evening was my Coming-Out Party because we moved the desks to one side and danced, chatted and drank champagne until nine thirty. I definitely had more than two glasses because I developed the giggles and twice Barbara and Diane had to stop me from getting up and doing twirls. Barbara and Maeve had to help me to bed and that night I slept deeply, no subliminal messages no injections or pills, I just slept and let my hormones my very own hormones go to work.

And then it was back to near normal, the near normal of sore, overworked vocal cords, aching calves and bruised lips. Wednesday came and Amy picked me up for our shopping trip, I had a short list from the girls and a longer list from May who needed bits for the concert.

I was wearing an A-line burgundy skirt, a white blouse with, black heels and my large shoulder bag and had borrowed Diana’s jacket again. My jewellery was simple just the cameo pendant, a couple of rings and my watch. If I was going to be trying on clothes I didn’t want fussy bracelets and rings snagging everything. “If we’re shopping straight away, will you use the car park near the High Street?”

“Yes, does it bother you?” She put the car into gear and we moved off.

“It did the first time I went, I was with the others but I think I’ll be okay today.”

“It’s a big world out there, Helen you will need to get used to it.”

“And the people in it.”

“That too, it’s one reason I wanted to come with you,” she smiled, “Well apart from the retro shop.”

“Which look are you going for in the shop?”

“Seventies, early seventies, flowers, tassels calf or ankle length skirts showing a bit of broidery Anglaise.”

“Hippie? I can’t imagine you turning on, tuning in and dropping out with a ‘Pass the pot, man’.”

She laughed, “Not that extreme, a modified hippy perhaps. I was too young in the Flower Power’s heyday but I do remember it, feminine but making a statement about emancipation and freedom.”

“Yes, what was it? The Fifties had the music revolution, the birth of rock, teenagers with their own money, an end to wartime shortages and restrictions. What was it that made the Sixties and Seventies so different?”

“The pill, extending the Fifties freedoms and adding a political awareness, the Viet-Nam war and not wanting 1939 to happen again. I think the underlying statement was protest, the young didn’t want conscription wasting the best years of their lives and they didn’t want to die in foreign countries. They wanted to enjoy what life had to offer, to form their own futures, to choose their own paths, careers and life-styles.”

I sighed, “The Fifties found an oyster and opened it, The Sixties and Seventies found the pearl inside.”

Amy took her eyes off the road and looked across at me, “That’s quite profound, where did it come from?”

I shrugged, “Don’t know, I think I made it up. I’m reading Ovid at the moment, perhaps I’m paraphrasing him.”

She was looking ahead now and shook her head, “That’s not from Ovid. Do you read the Romantics much, Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley?”

“Occasionally, I like some of Wordsworth’s stuff but I find I keeping thinking of the poets when I read Byron and Shelley I think of the arrogance of Byron, the dark uncertainty of Shelley and then of course there was Shelley’s wife and Frankenstein.”

“Ever read Rossetti?”

“The poetess?”

She nodded, “One of three gifted children born to an Italian émigré. Gabriel was the painter, one of the founders of the Pre-Raphaelites, his brother John was an art critic and writer and was chummy with Virginia Wolff and The Bloomsbury Set but the daughter, the one I am referring to, Christina Rossetti was probably one of the finest female poets of the Victorian Era, had it not been for depression she could well have been Britain’s first female Poet Laureate. She died when she was sixty-three, breast cancer but was very popular and again in the Twenties. Came back into fashion after the war but has disappeared for the moment, pity, she deserves to be read by our generations. Read her, Helen, you’ll like her.”

“I will, I think I might have a book of hers in my old flat and some pictures. When I collect the remainder of my stuff, I’ll read her.” We drove on in silence, I had time to think of my current situation, I was out with a genetic woman and totally accepted by her, discussing things that would be unexceptional, normal topics between women. I wondered if Amy was doing it on purpose to put me at ease, make me feel as if I belonged in that women’s club. No, I don’t think she would do that, she seemed to be one of the ‘I’ll guide when I can but you must find your own way,’ type of doctors. No Amy accepted me as a woman, not somebody who needed to be humoured or patronised.

We parked and I got out of the car, I knew she was watching me closely but she needn’t have bothered, I walked round to her side and once she had locked the car and put the keys away, I linked arms and walked without fear and not a moment’s thought about people staring at me.

“Shall we leave the Retro Shop until last in case we run out of time?”

She stopped dead, “Do you want to get back alive?”

“Just a suggestion,” I protested with a smile on my face.

“Then don’t make any more suggestions, you can be scary at times.”

We turned into the High Street. Opposite, an office block was being refurbished and there were a few men on the site and one of them wolf-whistled. Amy laughed, “That was for you, not me.”

“Don’t be silly it was for both of us.”

“First floor scaffolding, in the centre, three of them, turn and give a little wave.” I looked at her puzzled, “Go on, do it.”

She was the street-wise one so I did as she said, looked up and there they were standing on the platform looking at us, I gave a little wave and they cheered.

“Oh My God!”

Amy laughed, “Told you. It can be annoying but sometimes it’s nice to think we are admired. Buy yourself a paste diamond ring or a cheap gold band and wear it on your ring finger, when you want to be left alone, it can help.”

We reached the corner and I stopped and pointed at the Retro Shop, “There it is.”

She looked for a moment and then walked forward again, “Look at that, The New Look.”

It was, short jacket over a calf length full skirt in midnight blue.

“Dior wasn’t it?”

“Yes, 1948, the dressmakers could get their hands on fabrics again. You could even get a pair of nylons without making love to a Yank.”

“How would you know, you weren’t even born.”

“Mother, she had to go through the war. She was just beginning her teens and still wearing a school uniform. She actually wore briefs like the ones they issue when you first go into the Café, hers were bottle green she told me.”

“That must have been awful.”

“They all had to do it but she told me that in nineteen forty seven, she was fifteen then, her mother took her out and bought her a pair of nylons and some silk panties, she swore they were made from ex-army parachutes.”

I had to laugh and quipped, “No trouble in keeping them up then.”

“She never told me. Come on let’s go inside, I have money in my pocket.”

We were about to open the door when a woman came out smiled and said good morning and walked towards the High Street, Amy watched her, her face carrying the suggestion of a frown.

“Do you know her?”

She shook her head and turned back to me, “I hate it when I see a woman come out of a shop I am about to enter.”

“Huh. Why?”

“I worry in case she’s just bought what I was going in for.”

I laughed, “Amy, you’re terrible, I’d better let you have first choice.”

“Yes, you’d better or your next medical will be agonizing.”

So Amy leading the way, we walked into the shop, stopped stared at a rack of dresses and she pointed, “That!” before the owner even had a chance to say good morning. “What size is it?”

“Fourteen,” replied the owner reaching for the dress.

Amy’s face fell, “Leave it, I’m closer to sixteen.”

“Diet,” I suggested but Amy simply glared at me.

“I do have one in sixteen, it’s the same style slightly different colours. You mustn’t buy it if the fit is doubtful it would be difficult, very fussy to alter and it’s genuine nineteen seventy four, not a reproduction.”

The dress was chiffon in a mixture of colours, no pattern, just random swirls and difficult to alter it would be, there must have been two or three layers of material overhanging each other. A man might have mistaken the dress for a selection of chiffon scarves hung haphazardly over the rail but it was a designer dress if there ever was one. This was something no flower power working class girl could have afforded even in the Seventies the dress would have cost a week’s wages.

The shop owner brought the other dress from the back room, it was identical in style and there was a subtle difference in the colours, this second dress was brighter, it had a touch of mischief in it and I would have preferred it to the first. Amy must have agreed because she felt the material and ran her hands over it, “Can I try it on.”

“Of course,” Amy took the dress and disappeared into the changing cubicle.

The woman turned to me, “Hullo, it’s nice to see you again, are the other dresses okay, I thought they suited you so well.”

“They are fine, I haven’t worn the white one yet, I’m saving it for a special occasion.”

“The owner nodded, “Your friend is very forceful she knows exactly what she wants. Is she from the Café as well?”

That stunned me, how did she know I was from the Café? Had she realised I wasn’t what I appeared to be, was I doing something to give myself away?

“I’m sorry, I thought you realised I knew you came from the Café, one of the girls who was with you, she has been in a few times, she’ buys small things, lots of costume jewellery, a few items of clothing. She told me once about herself and what happens at the Café and when I saw you with her, well I was doubtful, you were so assured, so beautiful but the way you all looked after each other, I assumed you were with them and also from the Café,” she was talking quickly, trying to explain, make amends and I realised it wasn’t me that had given myself away but one of the others. I felt better.

“It’s okay,” I said, “I don’t mind your knowing about me.”

“You really are one of the girls then. I find it so difficult, you are so natural, confident and truly beautiful.”

“Beautiful. I’m not just pretty but beautiful?”

“Very.”

“I gave you a false impression when I was in last, I wasn’t confident, I was scared and it was my first time in public.”

“The other lady, is she with you as well?”

“I laughed, “No, she’s my doctor.”

She looked at the curtain, “She’s a very good doctor then if she has helped you to look and act as you do.”

“Very strict with me though,” I whispered.

“My name is Ruth,” and she held out her hand, “I really am pleased to have met you and I am not talking as the owner of this shop to a customer but to somebody that impresses me and is very nice.”

“Helen,” I answered, taking her hand and the strict doctor is Amy.”

At that point Strict Doctor Amy pulled back the curtain and said, “What do you think, Helen.”

I couldn’t see very much she was still just inside the cubicle, “Come out where I can see it.”

As she walked forward, the dress took on a whole new identity, the summer colours, reds, yellows, pale browns, orange, pale greens swirled and the overall effect of the gossamer like material was of a coloured mist swirling around Amy, she was walking surrounded by a bright cloud. It seemed to caress her from neck to calf. She reached the centre and stood in front of a mirror and turned towards me. Even standing still the appearance remained ethereal, the dress concealed her but still allowed the curves of her body to be seen. I watched her, her face had dropped years and she was more early thirties than late, young, optimistic, eagerly anticipating life. She seemed puzzled by my silence. “Well?”

I looked at Ruth; “Doctor Amy will take the dress.” Ruth nodded, “Yes she has awoken the spirits of the fabric, the colours, nobody else can wear that dress.”

“Are you saying I should buy it, it suits me?”

“Look in the mirror, Amy.”

She turned and once again, the mist flowed around her body and I watched the reflection of her face as she twisted a little one way, then the other; surprise, pleasure and then joy. Her reflection looked at me, “Its magic, the dress seems to have a life of its own.”

I walked forward and stood beside her, looking in the mirror, “It has been waiting for you.”

She nodded solemnly, “I have never experienced this before,” she took hold of one of the layers and lifted it to her cheek, “It’s silk.”

I shook my head, “Gossamer. Gossamer woven by those tiny spiders that come alive in the autumn and cover a meadow with their threads until the meadow seems to flow in the breeze, become a part of the air above it.”

Ruth stood beside us, “Yes, yes that’s it, a dress woven by gossamer spiders.”

I delved into my bag and produced one of my cards and gave it to Ruth, but she held up her hand in protest, “I haven’t told you how much it is, it is a little expensive. I had priced it at one hundred and eighty pounds.”

“Ruth, take the card.”

Amy stepped away, “Helen, you can’t pay for the dress, you can’t buy something this beautiful, this expensive for me, you mustn’t…”
I just looked at her, “Ruth go and run the card through the chip and pin.”

Amy must have seen something in my face and made no further protest. Ruth left us and Amy turned back to the mirror again, “Why?”

“Two reasons, you have been more than a doctor, Amy, you discovered me, gave me something beyond price…and Ruth is right, nobody else must wear that dress but you.”

She reached out and touched my cheek and caressed it briefly, “Never since the day I first qualified have I had a patient like you, you have made all the years of slogging in a hospital so worthwhile. What did you tell me about your friend, your new mother, Maria; Two Spirits, yes, you have two spirits.”

I turned away, if I hadn’t we would both have started crying, “You need accessories.”

Ruth came back and gave me the card and watched as I opened the large bag, took out my poodle bag and tucked the card away. She took the bag from my hand and studied the pink poodle, gave it back and said, “And now I have something for you,” and off she went again into the back room to reappear carrying something concealed under a dust cover. She slid the cover off and held up a pink, Fifties poodle skirt complete with a black poodle. “Here,” she thrust it at me, “Your size but try it on, there is a red petticoat under the skirt and a white peasants blouse with small flowers embroidered around the neckline. “I have been saving this in case you came here again. Here, go and try it on and let us see,” and she grabbed my hand and placed the hanger in it, waved at the cubicle and turned away, she was crying. I hurried into the cubicle and started to undress. Outside it was silent and I stood and listened for a moment before taking my skirt and blouse off. I held the red petticoat in my hands, waist pulled out ready for me to step into it and then I heard them speaking. Reassured, I finished dressing. The petticoat and skirt were perfect but the gypsy blouse, even allowing for the style being loose needed an upgrade in bra and padding to a B cup. I put my shoes on and immediately kicked them off, not black not with this ensemble I needed 3” white winkle picker stilettos circa nineteen fifty-five, nothing else would do and they had to be white. I could use my 4” white strappy sandals or courts but it would take the edge off the look I wanted.

I pulled back the curtain and walked out barefoot. They looked and nodded, “It looks good on you, the style is you,” said Amy.
I walked forward a little way and said, I’ll never be able to find the right shoes though.”

“Tra-la-la,” said Ruth and from behind her back she produced the very shoes I had been thinking of, “Probably your size as well.”

I took them of her, slipped them on and went to the mirror. They did it; it was exactly how I had pictured the look. I turned to face them and did a twirl and they both applauded, “Only one thing though,” I said pulling at the front of the blouse, “Too big, I need a size smaller.”

Amy came up and pulled the front out, “36,” she said and looked to Ruth for confirmation and she nodded. Amy then surprised me and cupped my breast, pulled the front down and looked, “You’ll grow into it,” she said with a smile, “At the current rate I think you will be 36B by Christmas.”

“Christmas; so soon?”

“Think so or soon after. When’s the concert?”

I shrugged, “May hasn’t set a date yet, thinks we need another five weeks of rehearsal.”

“Well if you go on developing at the current rate you could be close to an A cup by then. It is fast but I think your body was doing some of the groundwork before you joined the Café, the bricks and mortar where there, they just need putting together, yes, A cup by the end of October. With a derriere to match, that’s shaping up nicely as well or haven’t you noticed your hips recently?”

My expressions made them laugh and I couldn’t stop myself from peering down the front of my new, soon to fit, blouse and that made them laugh the more.

“You’ll have to start sleeping in your gel bra, Helen,” Amy said when they stopped laughing, “You need to get used to sleeping with a bust, they can’t be taken off at bedtime,” and that set Ruth off again.

Amy bought another skirt, ankle length, burnt orange with a built in cotton petticoat with broidery Anglaise trimmings, some long strings of plastic pearls, little flowers and seashells and a headband with soft fabric flowers around it. When I looked at the collection of shopping bags I said, “We’ll have to put these in the car before we do any more shopping.”

“I’ll close the shop for twenty minutes, drop you off at a nice little restaurant, put your things in the car and ask the attendant to keep an eye on it, he’ll do it, his wife is a friend of mine.”

Half an hour later we were sitting in a little restaurant eating light lunches and drinking iced tonic water. “I need to get May’s concert things and a few bits and pieces for the girls. I also need a jacket or something like one, a raincoat and a warm winter coat, how about you.”

“Nothing much,” Amy replied, a new perfume to go with my hippy look, something flowery.”

“When are you going to wear that dress?”

“When I get home, I’m going to doll myself up in all of it, and when my husband Ben gets home I’m going to shock him.”

I smiled, “You won’t shock him, you’ll gob-smack him and he’ll get down on one knee and propose to you all over again.”

“Do you think so, I could take advantage of the situation and make him buy me an eternity ring.” She pushed her plate to one side, took a sip of tonic water and scrutinised me and quite suddenly said; “Helen, have you given Adam any idea of the way you feel about him?”

I spilt some of my drink and hurriedly reached for my napkin to wipe the few drops of my skirt; “Adam? How I feel about him? Amy, what are you talking about?”

“You’re in love with him.”

“No I’m not, he’s my mentor I have only patient doctor feelings for him.”

She shook her head, “Oh no, girl, you won’t get away with it that easily. You love him; your voice softens when you speak his name. I’ve watched your body language, the way you look at him and when we had our meeting last week you looked for his approval when you made your decision, oh yes, you’re in love.”

“No I mustn’t be, he could lose his job, be struck-off, I mustn’t love him.”

Amy smiled and reached across the table and placed her hand over mine, ignoring the damp napkin, “Love isn’t turned off and on to suit the convenience of the moment and strictly speaking, he is not your doctor, I am and Peter is your consultant psychiatrist, Adam’s roll is simply one of mentoring, slightly different and as long as he did not take advantage of his position, he is not likely to get into trouble.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, I am his patient and that’s how he looks at me. He isn’t in love with me. I don’t even know if he’s married.”

“He is and he isn’t.”

“I looked at her puzzled, “He is and he isn’t?” I repeated.

“He is in love with you though I suspect he hasn’t realised it yet, men can be stupid about things like that and he isn’t married, in a long term relationship or even has a regular girlfriend at the moment.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed. You have to do something about it.”

“What can I do?”

“First we have to be certain that your love is not because he has helped you and has been the hand you hold when you cross the street. Do you think about him when he isn’t with you?”

“All the time. When he goes away on business for a few days I feel miserable and it isn’t because there’s no shoulder to cry on, Boris is there and so are Allen and the girls so I am not lonely, just lonely for him. When we had our celebration the other night, Barbara and Maeve had to put me to bed and I remember thinking, just before I fell asleep, that I wished it had been him that had undressed me.”

“Do you dream about him?”

“No,” I hesitated “Well I’m not sure. I’ve had one dream, it is about a man making love to me, physical love, I can see his body and it’s like the way I think Adam’s body would look but I never see his face.”

“It’s always turned away from you?”

“No not turned away, sort of blurred, in shadow.”

“Do you think it is Adam?”

“Well if the emotions we feel in a dream are linked to the way we really feel, then yes, it has to be him.”

“Why, it may be somebody else you have met, Peter, Boris, one of the warders.”

“It can’t be. Every other nice man I’ve met and liked makes me feel totally different to the way I feel about Adam, they are friends, he’s more than a friend, I fantasise about what it would be like waiting at home for him to return from work, cooking his dinner, wearing something I know he would like to see me in.”

“Being his Vesta, guardian of his hearth?”

“And heart.”

Amy took out the money to leave with the bill, “Helen, you are most certainly in love, all that remains now is for us to plan how you can make him realise he’s in love with you. Let’s go and finish the shopping.”

14

My bestest ever friends had a heyday on the following Saturday afternoon. We were having a binge meal and there were no rehearsals, May was giving us a weekend’s rest and April and I were preparing the meal with Maria. The heyday bit was when I walked into the kitchen in a puppy tooth check burgundy mini-skirt with a hemline three inches above the knee. I was wolf-whistled by my bestest-ever-girl-friends. It was Amy’s idea, “You’ve got to have at least two short skirts in your wardrobe, at your age they are compulsory and it gives Adam a chance to see your legs.”

I had glared at her, “That’s hardly subtle is it? I’ve never worn anything above the knees, what’s he going to think when I show up all stocking tops and earrings?”

She laughed, “You don’t flaunt them in front of him, you wear them when you’re working or rehearsing and simply make sure he sees them on you. Which one are you going to wear first?”

“I’ll wear the burgundy pencil skirt on Saturday, I’m working in the kitchen and keep the flirty skirt until rehearsals, at least I’ll have the excuse of saying it’s more comfortable for dance.”

“Well if you’re thinking of doing twirls, you’d better buy some plain panties and a few pairs of tights.

And that of course played straight into the hands of my bestest-ever-girl-friends. I at least had the satisfaction of disappointing them when I lifted the skirt and showed them I was wearing tights. Anyway, when I put my new piny on, light green with lilac hearts all over it, that started them off again until Maria came to my aid and shooed them out.

So April and I got to work, fillet steaks, asparagus, baby boiled potatoes, spinach and carrots and a Diane sauce. Maria watched with some pride, we hardly needed her help and she seemed to approve of the menu until I started preparing the sauce and was generous with the cream. She came over to say something but before she had a chance I faced her, hands on hips and said, “If we don’t sin now and again how are we ever going to learn the difference between right and wrong.”

“Daughter is right but Mother notice that daughter is in love and man will not marry a fat daughter.”

“Who told you that?”

“Not need telling, Mother can see way daughter acts, dresses and sings a lot,” and with that and a smile of satisfaction on her face she left the kitchen to go into the common room. Shortly after that, Adam came up to say goodbye before he left for the rest of the weekend and Maria of course came out of the common room, looked at the suggestion of disappointment that must have shown on my face and stood in the doorway and watched Adam until he let himself out. She came into the kitchen and whispered, “Adam is nice boyfriend, Mother is happy for daughter but you not run after him, he must run after you.” And with another satisfied look on her face she went and started placing kitchen utensils into the dishwasher. I didn’t bother to deny anything.

It got a little worse when April asked me if I had a boyfriend because I was acting a little differently, happier and who was he? I had to get used to it, these people were already close to me and undoubtedly would read signals I didn’t know I was making. I just smiled at her and nodded, “Not telling who he is yet,” and that seemed to satisfy her, well for the moment anyway. Somehow I had to keep it a secret until Adam discovered he was my boyfriend and loved me, as things stood, it would seem he was the only one who didn’t know.

That night I dreamed of my marriage. I was wearing a long ivory wedding gown studded with seed pearls the bodice was low and scooped, showing a tasteful amount of cleavage, which was helped by the Empire line styling. I had a plain, soft veil and a tiara of flowers. Allen was the Best Man, Boris stood at my side and was giving me away to…I searched hard in the dream, really hard and the sun came out and lit my groom’s face, it was Adam, I sighed and must have slept with a smile on my face and I awoke cuddling my pillow.

On Monday morning it was my turn to clean the kitchen with Barbara and then we were to prepare lunch, Maria was having a day off. We did have a chance to rehearse in the afternoon and April and I were practising our duet with Barbara accompanying us on the piano. Maeve and Diane were practising the Elgar Cello Concerto with the violin and cello in the common room but there was a difference now. Four weeks ago there would have been a cacophony of assorted instruments all going their own way, now there was unity in the sounds, we were coming together and as time passed the speed with which we were learning to play beautiful, co-ordinated music was increasing. We finished our practice session and May quite calmly told us the date for the concert was fixed for the first Sunday in November and then we all went into a complete funk with cries of desperation, we hadn’t even finalised the programme. May was quite undisturbed by our stage fright and let us moan and groan for a while then she tapped the table with her conductors baton and said, “I would not have arranged it unless I was totally confident that we were going to be ready. We will be,” she said in a manner that brooked no argument. “Now Allen has arranged for some of the music society members to come along and play background music for us. You will be the centre piece but where extra instrumental help is needed, they will play behind our group,” she looked at me, The Enigma and your clarinet, our cello and violins, they will add extra violins and woodwind. Maeve, they will back you in the Cello Concerto but singers, you will have only our accompaniment. The Music Society will also play during the break so that we can have a half hour’s rest. There are one or two other bits and pieces we will need them for but on the whole we will be doing it on our own.” She smiled at us, “You are better than you think. Most of you have been learning and practising your own pieces but from here on, we are going to have two or three sessions a week when we will play together as we will on the night and ten days before the concert, we will have a full rehearsal and correct any faults and then another and another and the fourth will be a full dress rehearsal in the prison gym. Helen, we need your expertise as a graphic artist, we need posters can you do it?”

“Yes of course, I’ll need to get my hands on the materials and a drawing board.”

“Already arranged and everybody listen. We need a name for both the ensemble and the concert so put your creative thinking hats on.”
If May had wanted to start World War III she had certainly come up with a cracker of a way to do it. First she floors us with the news of the concert’s date and then she tells five New Girls to ‘discuss’ names for ensembles. I was feeling tired, had a rotten headache which was making me irritable and I think I was running a bit of a temperature and started an argument as soon as more than one name was suggested. Barbara offered me her hand and said, “Come on, you’re going to bed.”

“What the hell do you mean, going to bed, we’ve not had dinner yet!”

“Hungry?”

“No I’m not bloody hungry.”

She just stood in front of me with her hand held out and eventually I calmed a little, “Sorry.”

“Not in character for you is it, come on, bed.”

I got up and meekly allowed her to walk me towards my room when suddenly the corridor started to bend, then twist and I felt as if my face was burning and I started to fall. Barbara caught me and lowered me to the floor and yelled for Boris and he was out of the room immediately, took one look at me, picked me up and carried me to my room and laid me on the bed. He felt my forehead, told Barbara to stay with me and went back to his office. Five minutes later he was back, “Barbara, I’m taking Helen to the prison hospital, Amy is there and waiting.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, you’ll miss dinner.”

“Sod dinner that’s my little sister, I’m, coming.”

Boris used his own car and the guards at the gate had been prepped and waved us straight through. Amy was waiting with Ronnie and as soon as Boris lifted me from the car, she led us straight up to her suite and I was sat in the padded chair. “Outside, please,” she said to Boris and Barbara, “Wait in reception.”

Ronnie swabbed me and started taking blood samples and Amy gave me a couple of pills to swallow and shortly after, my head began to clear, the world stood still and the heat in my face cooled. “What happened?” I asked Amy who was re-buttoning my blouse after checking my heart and lungs and feeling my breast.”

She smiled, “Not a lot but I’ll know for certain tomorrow when I get the blood results back but I’d say your extra bits are working. I didn’t expect this; I thought the little devils had finished all that.”

“Amy, what are you talking about?”

She smiled and took my hand, “It’s a woman’s thing. Those ovaries of yours had produced eggs and now the eggs have come to the end of their tenancy, you are experiencing another sort of period. Not the full thing, there’s no uterus but it appears your brain has decided to go through the motions, so to speak.”

“But it was much worse this time.”

“Having a last fling I hope, the sooner you get up to Charing Cross the better.”

I sighed, “I suppose I should be pleased about it, you know, experiencing some of the physical things, making me more woman.”

Amy shook her head, “Not in your case, you don’t need this. If it continues we may have to go in and do something.”

“Operate?”

“Maybe, we’ll see, let’s wait until Charing Cross have checked you over.”

“But that will leave a scar!”

“Now that is girly, worrying about a scar in a place that’s covered up.”

“Not if I get married.”

She laughed, “Helen, I love the way you plan ahead.” She went to a cupboard, got something from it and came back, “Lift your bum up,” and when I did, she pushed my skirt up, pulled down my tights and panties and started fiddling.

“What’s that?”

“Towel.”

“What do I need a towel for, I don’t have a uterus, there won’t be any bleeding and any way, if I did bleed, there’s no vagina to bleed from.”

She looked up and grinned, “I’ve got plenty of scalpels, I can fix that if you wish. You won’t bleed, but your brain may still be thinking along those lines and it is faintly possible you may have a discharge so the towel will stop it being uncomfortable.”

I laughed then and as she pulled my tights up I asked, “What did Ben think of the dress?”

She pulled my skirt down, “I’ll leave you to fix that, easier when you’re standing. You were right; he very nearly proposed again, he loved it.”

“And?”

For the first time, I saw the hint of a blush on Amy’s face. She turned away to give me room to get up and adjust my clothes and also to hide her blush, “He’s promised me the Eternity ring,” and to get her own back she asked, “How about Adam, has he reacted to the mini?”

It was my turn to blush, “He hasn’t really seen it yet, I was in the kitchen and wearing a piny and he was leaving for the day.” I hesitated, “Amy, I had another dream, this time I was a bride and I saw the face, it was Adam.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, can’t remember the rest but I woke up cuddling the pillow.”

“Yeah, I believe you. I was going to keep you in tonight but I think the symptoms have gone; it certainly seems so if you’re planning a wedding.

“Shut up.”

“Definitely feeling better. I’ll go and tell Boris you can leave in a half hour.”

“Can’t I go now, they’ve missed dinner because of me.”

“No, give it another half hour just to be certain you are okay, I’ll give you some pills to take if the symptoms return and I’ll tell Boris to keep an eye on you. As for dinner, there’s a nice little pub restaurant on the way back, The Orchard, take them there and treat them.”

“I can’t, I didn’t bring my bag and I’ve no money with me.”

She went into her office and came back with two fifty-pound notes, “Take this, you can pay me back when I see you again,” and she went out to speak to Boris.

Ronnie walked over with tea, “I didn’t make coffee, it is too much of a stimulant,” she nodded towards the door, “You’ve made Amy into a new woman. Since you took her shopping she’s been like a young…younger...ten years younger woman. You should think of becoming a marriage councillor I think her marriage to Ben had become a little stale and now it’s as if she were just married. How did you find that dress?

“I didn’t I simply found the shop, she spotted the dress.”

“Amy told me she was in two minds until you spoke.”

“It has magical properties, nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t suppose you’d take me there would you.”

“I’ll be happy to, Ronnie, the trouble is I’ll have to speak to my financial advisor first, every time I go in there I come out with hands full of shopping bags.”

“I can believe it, I saw Amy’s dress, she brought it here to show us and put it on. You were right, it does flow and plays tricks with her body.”

“It’s a retro clothing shop you know.”

“Yes, Amy explained but look at the way you look in their clothes.”

“We’ll go together, but I’m leaving my credit cards at home.”

“Bet you don’t.”

Amy came back and went to that cupboard that seemed to hold everything from surgical instruments to humbugs and brought over a small bottle of pills and a packet. “Here, take two pills if the flushes start or you get any of the other symptoms, I’ll phone the Café tomorrow morning to check on you and Boris says they can let you have a soft bra, put these in the cups, they will stop the material chaffing your nipples and you’ll have to wear it to bed as well.”

“Have you seen the Café bras?”

“Yes, not very sexy but for the next day or two you’ll have to leave your own off until the soreness eases. Oh by the way, you may well put on a bit of a spurt there.”

“I hope so, you promised me A cups by the time the concert came around and we have less than five weeks. I need a spurt.”

“Double up on these cotton wool pads if I’m wrong but I’m sticking to my prognosis.” She smiled, “Phone anytime if you have a need.”

“Thank you and thank you for waiting here for me.”

“Helen? Before you go, are you singing in the concert?”

“Yes of course, Ronnie, did you think I’d let them leave me out.”

“Can we know what you’re going to sing?”

“Well we haven’t finalised the programme yet.”

“Oh Helen!” protested Amy as they took a pace towards me, “You can give us an idea, you must have a short list by now.”

“Well if I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone else?”

“Yes.”

“I’m singing with April, The Flower Duet from Lakmé, Delibes opera”

Amy nodded, two contraltos’ that should be worth listening to. No solos?”

I hesitated, “Please, Helen,” Ronnie held out a hand as if to catch my words.

I sighed; they were not going to let me go until I told them. The First Time Ever I saw Your Face, the song Roberta Flack made famous in the 60’s.”

Amy and Ronnie turned to each other and high fived and Amy said, “What else?”

“I can’t tell you any more, really, if May knew I was letting secrets out, she’d be upset, especially as she hasn’t finalised anything yet.”

“Tell us just one more and we’ll shut up,” said Ronnie.

“Well this is the last then, “Little Things Mean A Lot, Kitty Kallen’s number one in fifty four, long before your time.”

They low fived and high fived.

“What’s this all about, the high fives I mean?”

Amy was grinning all over her face, “Where’s Adam sitting?”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Where’s he sitting?” insisted Ronnie.

“I don’t know I’m not in charge of tickets.”

“I bet you’ve arranged for him to sit centre, near the front.”

“He has to sit near the front all staff are there.”

“And you’ve made sure he’s dead centre, I bet.”

“Amy, why do you want to know?”

“Because we want to sit in the row in front and four or five seats to the side of him.”

“Why, I can try to get you seats beside him in the same row if you want.”

“No, no, no, the row in front and a few seats to the side so we can watch his face when you’re singing, especially the last song.”

“You’re a pair of bastards.”

“Yes we know and ladies don’t use that sort of language. See you tomorrow,” and they turned, grinning all over their faces and went back to Amy’s office.

Boris and Barbara jumped to their feet when they saw me, “Shouldn’t you be resting?” asked Boris.

“Yes but bloody witch doctors are on the loose back there and I’m scared to stay the night. I’m also famished and want to take you out to dinner because you missed it at the Café.”

I slept like a baby, no problems, no strange dreams and I was awoken when there was a light tap on my door and it opened. Maria’s head popped round, “Good, you are awake.”

I stretched, it was a luxurious feeling, “I’ve had such a deep sleep.”

“Body needed rest, we let you sleep and Boris said not to awaken you.”

I sat up, “What time is it?”

Maria smiled, “Is late, nearly ten.”

“What!”

“Now you stay there, I’ll get breakfast for you, “Orange juice, cornflakes, one toast and coffee.”

“No, I must get up, there’s work and lessons and rehearsals and...”

Maria walked straight in, plonked herself on the bed. “Boris said not to let you work or have lessons until this afternoon. Maria will get your breakfast, you can eat here and then you go back to sleep.”

“Maria I can’t sleep anymore, I’m wide awake. Let me up, I must have a shower.”

“Only if daughter promises to stay in room and wait for breakfast.”

I was famished despite last night’s late dinner so I agreed and anyway by the time Maria had brought my breakfast. I would be showered and dressed and ready for the day, “Okay I’ll have my breakfast in here.”

Maria looked at me suspiciously but nodded her head, “Okay.”

As soon as she left I jumped out of bed, slipped my nightie off and went into the bathroom, turned the shower on and took off the soft bra and dropped it to the floor with my panties and dived straight into the hot water and lifted my face and let is flow over me. I enjoying the feel of the water cascading over my breasts and nearly slipped and fell; breasts!

I looked down and there they were, two perfectly shaped if very small breasts with nipples proudly standing out. I got out of the shower, dried most of the water off my body, wrapped a towel around my hair and hurried over to the mirror on the wardrobe door. I felt like jumping up and cheering, they were definitely breasts, small but oh so lovely. I lifted them, squeezed them gently pinched the nipples and felt little shocks run down my body but they were sore. I went back to the bathroom for the soft bra shook the cotton pads out, went back put two fresh ones in and put the bra on. It was a 36B bra to allow for the pads and to stop the chafing so the cups were loose but they were standing out. I took gels off the bedside cabinet and tucked them down to the bottom of the cups and adjusted my lovely little real ones so they sat on top then looked down again. Wow, there was a real cleavage there. They weren’t exactly bursting over the top of the bra but they were there. I touched the cleavage and run a finger between my breasts, they were warm and soft.

I quickly took a pair of panties out of the chest of drawers, slipped them on, tucked the man bits away, I would check them out later but right now I wanted to look at my curves in profile.

I went back to the mirror, then the door started to open. Maria came in before I had a chance to move, looked at me and said, “Oh!” said “Oh again and hurriedly moved to the dressing table and put the tray down and came straight back to me. She looked for a few seconds and without as much as a ‘by-your-leave’ pulled the centre of the bra out and looked down, “Oh!”

Had it not been for the expression on her face, I would have been embarrassed, “Mother, you sound like a commentator reading out an England batting score at a test match.

She suddenly became flustered, “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry.”

“England’s going to be lucky to score at this rate, it’s okay, do you want me to take my bra off, it’s not all me, the cotton pads and gels are in there but the rest is me.”

She looked up from my brand new cleavage and smiled, “No need, but so sudden. I noticed a week ago you were growing but you have increased by a quarter maybe a third in last four days.”

“Amy said I might put on a spurt yesterday.”

She shook her head, go eat breakfast,” and whilst I did she spoke again, “You started growing four days ago. It normal for girl to put on spurts when they develop but yours was much.” She touched my arm, “I phoned Doctor Amy when I went to make breakfast and she said not to work much today but okay to rehearse a little and she will come later to see you.” She looked thoughtful, “I asked Doctor Amy what is wrong with you and she said I would have to ask you because she is not allowed to say.”

“It was nothing much, Mother.”

“This is not true,” she nodded at by breasts, “Is this illness a woman’s thing, you know, woman only have it.”

I smiled she didn’t know how to say it, “It is in a way. I have ovaries and they have become active and started producing eggs. They must have been doing it again since four days ago; I’m having a sort of period without bleeding, that’s why I am growing suddenly. Amy told me my body is trying to catch up, that’s why it is happening so quickly.”

She nodded and pointed at the breakfast, “Eat all of it and stop talking; hormones making you too chatty, you forget food.”

“But mother, I mustn’t get fat or I won’t find a good husband.”

“You can have a little fat for your boobs. Husbands not like wife with no boobs.”

I finished my breakfast and was drinking my last drop of coffee, Maria gently took the cup out of my hand, “Come back to mirror.”

I stood there looking at my reflection; I think I may have been paying too much attention to my new cleavage, checking perhaps, to see if they had grown any larger since I started breakfast. I felt Maria’s hands at my waist just above my hips, she squeezed the fat between a finger and thumb then ran her hands down the curve of my hips then up to my abdomen and patted it lightly. I was barely taking notice because my own hands cupped the bra under each breast and I was pushing up a little and smiling as the swelling above the top of the cups grew a little. I was startled out of this reverie when I felt Maria’s hands on my buttocks and heard her chuckle quietly. Her eyes caught mine in the mirror, “Nice…” she searched for the words, “Bubble butt.”

I looked at her a little shocked, Maria using expressions like bubble butt and then turned round and looked at my reflection over my shoulder, I had to turn my torso a little but even allowing for the slight distortion, she was right, I had a lovely bum, smooth, perfectly shaped and not a vestige of droop. “Take off bra,” and not waiting for me, she undid the back clasp and started to ease the straps down my shoulders. I lowered my arms and allowed her to remove it completely and obediently allowed her to turn me profile on to the mirror. “Now look,” and I studied the profile in the mirror, apart from a large silly grin on my face and small boobs, it was almost perfect. The muscles in my upper arms were gone my arms were noticeably slimmer. There was a slight curve to my abdomen, a soft, gentle curve. The waist was a little too thick but the hips had swelled to diminish the effect, if I could lose an inch from my waist, the proportions there would be just right. “You like your shape?” she asked.

I turned to face the mirror again and cupped my breasts, “Little bit small, the train is running late but I can wait a little longer.”

“Not long,” she said, “You wait here, not get dressed I will be back soon.” And she slipped out of my room and closed the door. I heard her footsteps then a knock on Barbara’s door. A few minutes later she came into the room carrying a small bag, which she placed on the dressing table. Bending she retrieved my soft bra, removed the cotton pads and started cutting them into a smaller, elliptical shapes then went to my chest of drawers, opened the second drawer and fiddled about and finally pulled out a three-quarter cup bra went back to the dressing table and opened the small bag and took out a pair of chicken fillet gel forms and fitted one into the bra, repeated the process with the other cup and came back to me, “Close eyes,” I did so and then felt her slipping the shoulder straps of the bra up my arms and onto my shoulders. She reached behind me and fastened it and then I felt the cotton protectors being inserted and pushed into place in front of my nipples and then she said, “Open eyes and look now.”

I stared at the reflection, it was an almost perfect figure and boy-oh-boy, was there a cleavage now. She took a pair of tights from the chest of drawers and told me to put them on and whilst I did that she opened the wardrobe, rummaged around and came out holding a T-shirt top with sequins around the low neckline. She rolled it up and help it out and I lowered my head, raised my arms and she slipped it on, pulled it down and made adjustments, with a final tug on the hem to pull the neckline down a little, took my swirly mini skirt out, unzipped it and held it out, lowering herself so that I could step into it and finally she took my black patent 4” courts from the wardrobe and placed them at my feet. I slipped into them and looked in the mirror again, “Oh my goodness, Oh my,” I think that that last Oh just about completed the England batting score, “Maria, I’ve arrived.”

She smiled, “Not quite but train soon come, you go and show girls, they are in common room, I will tidy up, go now, give them a show.”

And show I gave them, as I walked into the common room, they looked and then their eyes widened and they stared, I twirled and I shimmied and then they were around me, touching, caressing peeking down my décolletage, “Blimey,” said Diane, “They’re for real, it’s not fair, it’s taken me nearly two and a half years to get these ‘B’s’ and you’re half way there in a few weeks.”

“Hormones,” I told her, “Mine are having a population explosion and working overtime.”

“I should think they are, you lucky cow.”

The admiration session ended when May came in, stared for a moment and smiled, “Nice to see the breathing exercises are working, now let’s get them working again. I want you and Barbara in the rehearsal studio, Barbara on the piano please. You others,” she held out some sheets of paper, “Lists for you to check, add to and make suggestions on, running order, wardrobe shortages, stuff like that. You have an hour and then everybody into the studio.” And away she went not waiting for us.

“Was it breathing exercises?” April asked a little hopefully. We laughed and then Barbara and I followed May into the studio.

May went straight to business, “The First Time Ever I saw Your Face, ready?” She waited until Barbara and I had prepared ourselves and then nodded at Barbara. I waited for my cue and started to sing. I sang it well, very well and May never stopped me. I finished and turned to her. “Good, very good, now sing it properly, you are in love, slow it slightly, let notes linger a little longer.” She tapped the piano and Barbara started again, “I closed my eyes and pictured Roberta Flack at the piano, I have watched that video a thousand times and knew every move, the length of every note, the places where it was powerful, the places where it was soft, wistful and I plagiarised Roberta, sang it her way because nobody has ever done it better. As I reached the final notes, I opened my eyes and looked at May. She turned the metronome on, set the timing and said, “Again, now picture yourself with your lover, the man who is life to you and sing it again. She tapped the piano with her baton and once again Barbara began the intro. I closed my eyes and pictured a silver birch, I was standing underneath it and Adam was there and holding both my hands. We turned and started walking hand in hand as I started walking slowly across the studio floor and I sang, I sang to Adam, I sang like I had never sung before to the man who I wanted to be all of my life, not just a part of it.

When the song ended I stood with my eyes closed and felt May beside me, the whole Café was quiet, not even the murmur of the girls voices in the common room. “Whoever he is, make sure he is at the concert,” May whispered, “That was superb, that was beautiful, just once more please. She walked back to the piano and there was a short pause then I heard the tap of the baton, the click of the metronome and once more Barbara started the opening bars and a violin joined in playing softly. As I started to sing a choir joined in quietly humming in time with me and I was in the gym, at the front of the stage in my white dress and in the centre of the third row sat Adam, his eyes fixed on me and I sang, all I felt for him came out of my heart and caressed my vocal cords and we were alone, just Adam and I.

When I finished, I stayed still, holding the image in my eyes and then I slowly turned to face May. I noticed the violin in her hands and heard a faint sob come from the door, I looked and there were the other three, they had been the choir I had heard.

“On the night, we’ll do it just like that, it was beautiful, truly beautiful.” May said as she placed her violin on the piano.

“Right. Maeve cello, Diane violin, April, Softly Awakes My heart. Helen, Barbara, take five.”

Vesta’s Hearth is published on the Top Hat Amazon site and coming soon is ‘First Dates are Kissing Dates’

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Vesta’s Hearth Chapters 15 and 16

By

Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012

This is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Financial news, chromosomes, a shopping trip with Ronnie and a photo shoot where Helen gets ‘saucy’.

15

Ronnie picked me up at the Café on Thursday morning, it was late closing in Chichester so we could take our time. “I will have to leave you for an hour to go and see my financial advisor.”

“That’s okay, I can pop round to my mother.”

“Which look are you going for in the Retro Shop?”

She looked at the black skirt I was wearing, “Is that retro?”

“No, modern I bought it in Debenhams it is full skirted, knee length so it is sort of fiftyish I suppose. I lifted the hem and showed her the red petticoat I had bought with the poodle skirt, this is and it does make the skirt stand out which was the way in those days.”

“I like it, would you mind if I got one like it, different colour.”

“Of course not but it may be cheaper in the High Street than in the Retro Shop.”

“I’ll look in both. I want something like Amy’s new dress as well, not the same style or colour but the same material, that soft flowing gossamer.”
“We’ll go into the Retro Shop first and tell Ruth what you are looking for and then we can shop the High Street and give her a chance to sort some stuff out, she has a large stock room at the back so she’ll have something for you.”

We passed a car showroom as we were speaking and out of the corner of my eye I saw classic cars on the forecourt, “Turn round, Ronnie, I want to look at those old cars”

We went back and pulled into the parking area and got out, “That one,” I said pointing to a Ford Zephyr Zodiac convertible.
“You going retro on cars as well?”

“It hadn’t occurred to me until I saw this, my dad had one when he courted mum. It was getting on a bit then but he showed me pictures of it, it was beautiful. There was one of him with mum, they were out on a date somewhere and I wondered what it would be like to ride in one.”

“Oh, I thought you were going to buy it.”

“I might, I would like to, it would remind me of them every time I drove.”

“What do you think they would have thought about what you’re going through?”

I thought for a minute, “They would have supported me, mum definitely, dad as well I’m sure. He always told me when I had a problem, that they had made me, so everything that troubled me, troubled them. I think mum would have been overjoyed after she got over the shock, because she said she always wanted a daughter.
“Dad always told me to make allowances for other people, ‘We are what we are,’ he would say and if somebody looks, acts or speaks differently and you don’t like it then it’s you that has the problem, not them.”

“He had a lot of wisdom.”

I nodded, I was beginning to tear up, I did miss them so much and I would love to have shown them the new me. I looked up at the sky, “I know you can see me but I wish I could see you,” the tears passed and we were at the showroom standing in front of the Zodiac.

The salesman came over, “Can I interest you ladies in the Ford. 1961, three speed manual, column change. She’s in beautiful condition, bodywork sound, soft top is nearly new, engine tweaked for modern fuels, the electric motor for the top is none standard, we couldn’t repair the original so had to fit a modern motor and modify the operating system a bit.” He leaned across a door and pointed at the radio, “Original that, and you can still get the parts if a valve or something blows. Underneath you can see that a modern radio has been fitted, stereo CD of course which the original isn’t but we didn’t want to lose the old one, it fits the car, sets it off a sort of back-to-the-future car.” He stepped back and looked us over, his eyes dwelt on me and I suddenly realised that a bloke was eying me up for my first time and my legs began to tremble a little but Ronnie’s hand found mine and squeezed it. “You’re almost dressed for the car, would you like me to take you for a test drive?”

“Yes,” we said together and before he had the chance to open a door for us I had opened the passenger door and pulled the seat forward for Ronnie then I sat in the front passenger seat. I learned what my mother and father had loved about the car, the wind in my hair, playing with the hem of my skirt so that a little of the red petticoat showed for a moment, the warm sound of the old radio, the feel of the upholstery on the bench seats, I fell in love with the car. After fifteen minutes he pulled over and turned to face me, “Would you like to drive it back to the showroom?”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“You can, the steering isn’t powered but its light. Take it slowly at first until you get the feel of her and remember, the engine is six cylinder and the car can do near a ton, when you’re happy with it, push it up a bit but don’t go mad and burn rubber.” He smiled, opened his door and walked around the front to my side, “Go on, slide over or do you want me to sit on your lap?

I slid over, put my feet on the pedals and rested my hands on the white and chrome steering wheel. If only the salesman knew that my last car was a Porsche but I didn’t enlighten him.

“Hundred yards, turn right, three miles right again and I’ll give directions after that…”

He didn’t finish, I pulled out and accelerated away smoothly, made the turn and then I drove. I hadn’t forgotten how, the hormones had left that bit of the old me alone. After five minutes I saw the salesman sit back and relax as I smoothly increased the speed, and played the Ford around bends, hands working the gears, keeping the car on the right track. In the rear Ronnie started singing, “I’m a gambling Man,” she was really going retro.
When we got back to the showroom the salesman, opened his door and paused, “Sorry about the advice, you can handle her better that me.”

“I want her.”

“He smiled, I thought you might. Because of the condition and the work done on her she’s ten, two ninety, I’ll knock that back to a straight ten but no lower.”

I held out my hand, “Done but I will want to have her looked at.”

“Yes, you’d be a fool not to, come into the office and we’ll arrange it.”

We did, I telephoned Paul and he agreed to come up and look at the car the following Monday and if it was okay, buy it for me. I gave the salesman a fifty-pound deposit to hold the car until then and we were on our way, to shop for serious things like perfume and lingerie.

We went into the Retro Shop and Ronnie had a chat with Ruth and with a promise that we would be back later, we went shopping.
I bought a couple of silk scarves, just for the car, I’d have something else for the wind to play with and spent some time gazing longingly at basques but as Ronnie pointed out, they were items best left until I was better able to judge my final bust size, we thought 36B but why spend money that in a few months would turn out to be wasted. Ronnie bought a couple of bras, some knickers and a camisole and I satisfied myself with a low neckline top in a white silk mixture. I was going to buy one with a deep V neck but again, Ronnie stopped me, boob size again she whispered,” Wait a bit and anyway,” she had looked at the set of thongs I had bought, “You going to vamp it up and ruin your reputation?”

“I was thinking along those lines,” I answered with a grin, “Spice things up a bit.”

“Right, let’s do that subliminally then,” and taking my arm she dragged me to cosmetics, and guided me through the ‘Spice it up’ selection which was embellished with a perfume she selected. “Get that one. It comes with a guarantee.”

“Guarantee?”

“Get Your Man or Your Money Back.”

It was now time for my appointment. The car park was at the opposite end of the High Street to my adviser’s office, Ronnie offered me a lift but I shook my head. “I don’t have to go down any narrow alleys, he’s just off the high street and I can walk there easily enough.”

“You sure?”

“Certain. Look Ronnie, I have to get used to being in public on my own, this is a short walk, in daylight and in a busy street, it’s a good place for my first solo flight.”

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded, “You’re right, I’m being over protective, but don’t go into any pubs, you’ll be hit on without a doubt.”

“Aw, come on Ronnie, Can’t a girl have a bit of fun sometimes.”

“No!”

“Three at Ruth’s then.”

“Three and don’t be late or I’m getting the police out looking for you.”

My financial advisor was shocked when he saw me. It must have been a year since we last met to arrange my financial affairs and though he knew a little about me and the rape case and a little about my transitioning, when I walked into his office he wouldn’t believe it was really me until I showed him such documents that I carried and told him a great deal about my previous private life. He asked me details of my investments, the sort of thing only the real client would have known and I had to sign my name a dozen times, my old name that is, so that he could compare the signatures and even that wasn’t enough, he was humming and hawing so in frustration I said, “Why don’t you telephone the prison, the Café as it’s known and speak to either Boris or Adam and they’ll give you a description of me, what I was wearing when I left and then telephone the prison hospital and speak to the doctor, Amy Whitehouse.”

He did and at last he was satisfied that the attractive girl sitting in front of him was indeed the man who, a year ago had called to discuss financial affairs. He changed completely then, full of courtesy and the further we went into my financial status, the more he warmed to me and an hour later I left, everything sorted out.

I was in a state of shock and needed time to take in all that he had told me. I had over half an hour before meeting Ronnie so I went into a little tea room and ordered a pot of tea and a pair of muffins, sat in a quiet corner and began to add things up. I was a rich girl, richer than I had thought, a lot richer. If the sale of the flat produced the sum the financial advisor had suggested I would be worth nearly two million pounds. During the period I had been on remand and the time I had been at the Café, a total of eight months had elapsed and he had done well.

I knew he was a good advisor, he had been highly recommended and I had given him a virtual power of attorney over most of my investments when I had been charged and he had done very well indeed. He had kept the right shares and sold off those that had gone a little shaky early and then bought shares at the bottom of the market. If my investments improved and he had told me that there were positive signs that the current recession was ending and the world’s economies were beginning to expand then this time next year, I would be richer still.

He had wanted me to take money out of my current account and allow him to invest that but I had told him I would be buying a new house when I was ready to settle. He shook his head in dismay when I said I was going to build a new wardrobe, “I have always disapproved of allowing women to go on shopping sprees with large funds available, even if it is their own money, clothes do not appreciate in value.”

“You’re a chauvinist, if I had said I wanted to buy a soccer team you would have applauded.”

But we had compromised, I did have a lot of money in the account and it was just sitting there so I told him what I needed and allowed him to transfer some of it into an interest earning account. I would also have the money from the Porsche sale, less the ten thousand for the Ford.

The last crumbs from my muffins disappeared and I checked the time, I had ten minutes to meet Ronnie before a hue and cry started. I left the teashop and walked to Ruth’s with a spring in my step, a smile on my face and swinging my shopping bags. Before I went in I stopped and realised what I had done, I had spent two hours out in the wide-wide world on my own and had not once felt scared and had noticed that men had noticed me! Even I doubted I had ever been male.

Let’s have dinner whilst we’re out,” I suggested when we eventually returned to the car laden down with Ronnie’s shopping.

“I daren’t, I’ve spent too much, I’ll have to economise for the rest of the month and some of next month as well.”

I laughed at that, “You couldn’t make up your mind which look to go for.”

“That’s not my fault, I liked them all.”

“You’ve got the Fifties, Sixties and Seventies.”

She smiled sheepishly, you should have stopped me.”

“I didn’t have the heart, you were having so much fun.”

“I was,” she agreed, “I haven’t gone mad like that for years, the fun make’s the economising worth it.”

“Dinner’s my treat.”

“You’ll have to be careful with your money as well, let’s leave it and grab a Chinese take-away.”

“Nope, my treat, I found out this afternoon I’m stinking rich.”

“That financial man you went to see?”

“Yes, whilst I’ve been rotting in jail, he’s been handling my investments and done remarkably well. He even suggested I should invest my liquid funds instead of spending them on clothes and stuff like that, men have no idea of priorities.”

“He sounds like a man I need to put a hold on me.”

“Too late, he’s married and probably only allows his wife to buy one lipstick and one new dress every year. Now where are we going for dinner, I have cash and credit cards we can go wild. Krug NV champagne included.”

“I know just the place.”

And she did and we had lobster but no Krug, Ronnie was driving and if I had to finish a bottle of champagne on my own she would have had to carry me out to the car. As we were getting into the car I said, “I want to go back and eat more.”

“What, after that meal!”

“Yes, I didn’t eat enough, Maria has told me I must put on a little weight for my boobs, she said husband not like wife with small boobs and she also told me I had a bubble butt.”

“Maria said that?”

“Yes, on my word.” And we laughed all the way to the Café.

When I got back, Adam met me, “Amy has asked that you phone her as soon as you’re back, wants to see you tomorrow but it’s not serious, she wants to give you the results of your latest tests and speak about an appointment next week at Charing Cross Hospital.”

I dropped off my shopping and Adam offered me the use of his phone. “I’ll be with Boris.”

The first thing Amy did was ask me what I was doing to her nurse, she’s bought a micro mini, hardly suitable for a nurse.”

“She bought a Caftan as well, doesn’t that restore the status quo?”

Amy laughed and then got down to business, “You have an appointment at Charing Cross on Tuesday, mid-morning and I will be coming with you.”
“Is there something wrong?”

“No, in fact it might be the opposite, but I don’t want to chat about it over the phone, it’s linked to the results of your latest blood tests. I want you here for ten tomorrow because I have other appointments from eleven onwards, can you manage it.”

“Yes of course, I’ll get a cab.”

“No need, Paul will send somebody to pick you up at nine fifteen if he can’t do it himself.”

I replaced the phone and stood thinking for a while, I wasn’t seriously worried but there was a little concern. Once again I had a feeling that I would be facing more decisions at Charing Cross and I would have liked a few weeks without worrying about decisions, I think the past months were beginning to take their toll. I pulled myself together and went to tell Adam I had finished my call.

I walked down with him and turned to go into my own room but he stopped me, I have something for you in my office and so I followed him in. He opened his safe and handed me my mobile phone. “Take this, I think you should keep it with you, then you’ll have a way to get in touch if ever there’s a need. I’ve taken the liberty of accessing you to the Cafés Wi-Fi so you can use it in here to make personal calls, is that okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Enjoy your day?”

“We had fun and I received good news. My financial advisor has told me that whatever happens, I won’t be left short of money and will be able to live well enough, in fact very well even if I never get a job. I wanted to talk to you about it, you know about having a bit of money and if it will affect my position here.”

“No reason why it should unless they decide to close this place down which, in view of the statistics we are returning, they won’t do. Remember, you’re on the staff and the financial status of staff is of no concern to the prison service unless they think it’s so bad you may be tempted to disclose sensitive information to the press for gain. Not thinking of writing an exposé about us are you?”

“Yes the whole story, debauchery, drugs, booze and riots, the whole business.”

“Excellent but make sure I get a copy, it sounds like a good read.”

“I’m a little worried about my duties here not being done as they should.”

“Nothing to worry about there, everything is easily covered, just try and ensure that you make people understand that you have the concert to think of, don’t let them whip you into Charing Cross for weeks on end until after the concert.”

16

It was Paul that picked me up and as we approached the main gate of the prison they swung open. There were warders I did not recognise on duty this time and one of them walked out and held his hand up to a prison van and waved us straight through.

“What was that all about,” I asked Paul, “They held up an official vehicle to let us through?”

“Not us, Miss Finch, you.” And Paul grinned at me, “The van was just warders, coppers and cons, you, Miss Finch are a star and the prison pin-up.”

“The what!”

“Prison pin-up, Miss Finch.”

“Paul, what’s going on, and you can stop that Miss Finch stuff as well.”

“You don’t mind if I still call you Helen.”

“Of course not, what’s going on, come on, Paul.”

“Well if you’re sure you won’t think I’m being too familiar calling you Helen.”

“Paul, I can still land you a smack if I have to.”

He started laughing then. “The prisoners know about the concert and a photo was taken off you and there are copies of it in at least a third of the cells and a large one in the prisoner’s canteen.”

“What! You’re kidding.”

He brought the car to a stop outside the hospital block, it had to be his bloody Bentley and a warder opened the door and touched his cap, “Good Morning, Miss Finch, it’s nice to see you.” I heard Paul laugh softly and I glared at him but to the warder I said, “Thank you, it’s nice to be visiting again.”

When we were inside I dropped my voice as we walked to the lift. “Now who took a picture of me and are you pulling my leg or not?”
We stopped by the lift and he turned to me, “The picture must have been taken on a mobile phone, it was outside the main entrance to the Café and you were smiling at somebody, it was a good shot, you were wearing the yellow dress and the sun had caught your hair, you looked lovely,” he reached into his jacket and took out a photo, “Here, take a look.”

I looked at the picture, I did look good, the sun lit my hair and face and my smile dazzled. I tried to think when it might have been taken, the only time I had worn that dress outside the Café was when I was visiting Amy. “You were there, who took the picture?”

“Honestly, Helen, I don’t know. There were two or three people about and I was talking to somebody on the other side of the car.”

“How did you get a copy?”

“One of the lads at the prison, a warder sent me a copy.”

“And that is how the prisoners got hold of it if you’re not kidding me and now it’s all over the prison.”

“I’m not kidding, a lot of them do have copies and every time somebody from outside goes in they are pestered about the concert, when is it? Will prisoners be able to see it? How many performances, that sort of thing.”

We got into the lift, “It’ll be on the internet next.”

“If it isn’t already.”

I glared again and was about to say something when the lift stopped and the doors slid open. We walked into Amy’s reception area and her girl jumped up, Miss Finch,” she held out another of the photos, “Will you autograph it.”

I stared at her then turned to Paul, “This is unreal,” and turned back to the girl, “Are you serious?”

“Oh please,” she said pushing the picture under my face. I heard a click and Paul held a ballpoint out and without saying more I autographed the photo and used the full name, Helen Vesta Finch and handed the picture back. “And I’m still Helen to my friends.”

“I thought her face would split in two, the smile was so broad, “Oh, thank you and Amy said to go straight in.”

I walked into the surgery and Ronnie was waiting, “Before you say anything, Ronnie, if you ask me for my autograph or call me Miss Finch, I’ll scratch your eyes out.”

Ronnie smiled, “You’ve heard.”

“Paul picked me up and he used his bloody Bentley and told me. I had the guards holding up official vehicles to let me through and I’ve just been asked for my autograph.”

Ronnie opened the door to Amy’s office, “Miss Finch has arrived, Doctor.”

“You’re going to pay for that,” I said as I went past. I heard her giggle as she closed the door and I looked at Amy.

“Sit down, Helen, I see that it’s spreading.”

I sighed; “Fame and beauty can be a burden at times.”

“That’s the way to handle it, I think you should book a portrait session in a photographic studio.”

“Don’t you start, you’re supposed to be a friend.”

“You sabotaged my nurse, micro mini indeed. Right, now down to business.” She already had my file open, “First we’ll get a few names right. You are not a hermaphrodite. It is a name too often used to describe your condition and it’s inaccurate. A hermaphrodite is an organism that has both sets of reproductive organs, which are active; earthworms, snails’ flowers and some species of fish are common ones. Your condition is better described as intersexed, you do have the reproductive organs of both sexes, that’s testes and ovaries but they are not both active. Until you came here your male organs were the dominant ones and to all intents and purposes you functioned as a male. Then they switched, your ovaries became active and you started to develop the secondary sexual characteristics of a female, noticeably breast formation slimming of the waist, increase in fat on your hips and buttocks, smoother skin, all the things we have noticed over the past weeks. Okay with it so far?”

“Yes I have been reading it up, carry on.”

She turned back a page, “Right then, these are the full results of your most recent blood and sperm tests. You are not now producing any sperm whatsoever whereas an earlier test indicated a very limited production. Your estrogen is a little higher than normal, which is not abnormal in a female during a period; your testosterone is a little lower, again nothing to worry about. I asked the lab to check the chromosomes in your body cells, do you understand chromosomes?”

“Some, XX means female, XY is male and the odd one, the intersex one is XXY.”

She nodded, “There are also XXYY chromosomes but we won’t go into that because there is still quite a bit of research going on. The intersex business is very complex; we can’t even say we know all the variations so doctors who have been too pedantic about this in the past have to do quite a lot of rethinking. Going back to your chromosomes, they are predominantly XX, female with some cells containing XY.”

“The reading I did and I admit a lot of it I didn’t understand and some I didn’t even try to, said that intersexed people were detected at birth and usually the parents were asked to decide which of the reproductive organs should be kept so why did I suddenly change in adulthood?”

“That is not quite correct, “The majority of cases, as far as we know at present, are detected at birth, others manifest themselves in later childhood and very often immediately before puberty sets in. But there are recorded occasions when the intersex condition was not detected until adulthood and even some cases where it was not discovered until after death.”

“Are you saying that there are people who have gone through their entire lives intersexed and not known it?”

“Yes, or chose not to do anything about it and their intersex condition would not have been discovered then but for the fact that the known cases were discovered when an autopsy was performed.”

I sat back in my chair and shook my head, “If it hadn’t been for the rape case then, I might never have known about it.”

“Perhaps, on the other hand it may have come to light during an examination for another medical condition or as has happened, something gave your brain a shock and set it off. But that is conjecture and we may never know the answer.”

“Could it happen again, you know another shock making it all begin again and start me becoming male, Amy I would hate that to happen now.”
She smiled, “No. The male reproductive organs are switched off and are vanishing. Your testes are slowly being absorbed back into the body, they can never be replaced unless you time travel back to your embryonic period and start from scratch again.”

“So I won’t need an operation to prevent me from fertilizing myself?”

“No, there is no sperm present to do that.”

“Well that’s something, no scar,” I smiled, “Not even in a place that is normally covered.”

“None so go ahead and plan the wedding. Now, so far we have dealt with facts but we have to move into the grey area of theory. I have never seen, never heard of an intersex case like yours. The rapid growth of breast tissue, the movement of body fat and the speed at which you accepted the change in your sex, it was as if you embraced it where most adult patients have been shocked and frightened.”

“You’re wrong in one respect, I did embrace it but I was often terrified, I’ve cried myself to sleep on many nights, frightened of what I would wake up to, perhaps becoming a freak. One minute I’m one of the boys and a few days later, one of the girls. If it hadn’t been for the friendships I have forged I don’t know what I would have done, in a sense, the Café saved my life because alone, I wouldn’t have made it. Being with other transgendered girls who had gone through something similar helped me. It let me know that my life hadn’t ended; perhaps it had only just begun. I had no choice but to embrace it. Now I am frightened that I will change again, I listen to you but I still fear suddenly finding myself reverting, letting him back in, I couldn’t embrace that, never, never, never!”

“That can’t happen now, you can’t replace the bits that have been absorbed into your body, you are no longer an embryo, the ovaries were always there, they weren’t suddenly made by your body a few weeks ago. Helen, nobody has ever changed so rapidly, that is why Charing Cross want to see you, you are unique and they want to know why.”

“I’m to be a guinea pig?”

“It’s the reason I’m coming with you to ensure they don’t sweet talk you into something you don’t want. The initial examinations will be to establish just where you are in the process of changing and what treatment you will require, after that they will want to discover what sped it up, you are changing at a rate more than four times faster than the norm. They aren’t ogres, they are doctors but the field in which they work is becoming more complex each year and their research instincts are bubbling.”

“And you can stop them from mucking me about?”

“I can’t unless I believe there is malpractice which there won’t be. Only you can stop them by simply refusing to allow them to use you as a research subject. As your consultant and to some extent your GP, I will make sure they don’t put unfair pressure on you so what I suggest is that we go, have the initial examinations, listen to what they have to say and then make the decisions.”

“Okay, we’ll go and see what it’s all about. One thing though, you said ‘to some extent your GP,’ what does that mean?”

“Whilst you were a prisoner serving a sentence, you came within my jurisdiction, now that the sentence is quashed you are not officially on my list. We have agreed between ourselves that I should continue to help you but that is a voluntary arrangement between us. Unless your previous GP still has you on his or her list you are currently not registered as a patient with any practice.”

“Can’t I register with you?”

“Yes, I undertake GP work for the prisoners and staff and there’s no reason why I can’t take you on, all we need to do is fill in the form.”

“Er, what sex are you going to use on the form, male, female, both or indeterminate?”

She laughed; “Your XX chromosomes have already made that decision. Now the other doctor couldn’t get here today so I have a busy surgery to attend, I’ll see you on Tuesday unless you have any further questions?”

“No, I’m happy enough,” I got up to go but she opened a drawer in her desk and held something out, “I need you to sign this.”

“What is it?”

“Your photograph of course.”

It was time I fought back so when I got back to the Café I went in to see Boris, “Will it be an inconvenience if I went into Chichester on Friday afternoon?”

“Make it the morning, I have to go and see Peter, I can give you a lift.”

“Okay but I’ll need a couple of hours.”

“I’ll be with Peter from ten till twelve thirty, would that suit.”

“Lovely and when I get back I’ll clean the mentors’ offices all on my own.”

“It’s a deal. Going to Chichester for anything special?”

“It’s a secret.”

He smiled, “Okay then, I’ll let Adam know I’m giving you a lift but won’t elaborate.”

On Friday Boris dropped me off in the High street. My destination was on the other side of the road but I turned away and walked back the way we had come, stopping to glance in shop windows like a girl doing a bit of innocent window shopping until Boris’s car disappeared, then I crossed the road and made my way back to the beauty parlour.

“Helen Finch, I have an appointment.”

The receptionist look at the register, “Okay, Fay will be with you in five minutes, have a sit down, would you like tea or coffee.”

“Coffee ta.”

On time Fay came out, “Helen?”

I got up, “All ready for you.”

She gave me a quick once-over, we’ll have to use a long smock over your dress that shade of yellow will show every mark and we can’t take chances.”

“Fine, you can wrap me in cling film if you like.”

She laughed, “I’m not that sloppy, just cautious. We’ll do your hair first, wash and set right?”

“Right.”

“Come on then.”

We talked fashion and when my hair was finished I looked in the mirror, it was perfect, the waves cascaded down to my shoulders and she had set it so that with the light behind me it would look like a halo. "You do have lovely hair, easy to style and if you put it into a ponytail, it will brush out easily and return to the set. Let’s get on with the makeover."
When that was done I spent too long acting the part of Narcissus in the salon’s mirrors. I looked beautiful in a way that would allow me to change the look by simply altering my facial expression. “He’ll like it,” Fay said, “I have done a lot of work for him and I know what he likes. Remember, it looks over done in daylight but you haven’t far to go so it doesn’t matter but you’ll have to clean it off and do a normal daytime touch up afterwards.”

“No need, I have somebody picking me up when he’s finished.”

I paid and left a very generous tip; I would be going back to Fay again. The glamorous Helen Finch left the beautician and walked thirty yards to the next port of call.

He did like it, “Perfect he said, hair and makeup, she’s a good girl Fay. He walked quickly around me studying me in the light of the shop window, nodded and asked, “Did you bring the change of clothes?”

I held up the shopping bag, “Skirt, blouse and petticoat in here, shoes in my shoulder bag.”

“Good, let’s have them so I can let them hang and get any creases out.”

I handed over the clothes and he passed them to his assistant who had been standing quietly beside the curtain, “Check them over, Brenda and then join us please. Come on let’s get started,” and he took me by the arm and led me into the studio. Stand in front of the background sheet whilst I set the lighting…”

I spent over an hour turning this way and that, the flash going off for some and spot lights for others. He made frontal shots, rear with me looking over my shoulder, set my face with a light smile, a big smile, serious, coquettish, lips pursed, lips slightly apart, he took me through the book. Then he changed the back drop, softened the lights and took a lot of portrait pictures with and without filters and after a quick change, I was in my black skirt and low necked top and we did the glamour shots, leaning forward to show my cleavage, standing with one foot on a stool, skirt and petticoat pulled back to reveal a stocking top and suspender and winking at the camera and then we finished.

“Right, I’ll download them and we can take a quick look and allow you to select the ones you want printed and in what size.

Five minutes before Boris was due to pick me up; I had an enprint-sized picture of the entire shoot because I simply couldn’t make up my mind. I also had half-a-dozen framed portraits, there was one that was exceptional, my hair had looked like a halo and the suggestion of a smile on my face made the shot perfect and I ordered a couple of pictures of the stocking top shot in portrait size but unframed. I won’t mention the bill but he asked me if he could use the portrait picture. “I would like to frame it and put it in the centre of my window display.”

“To sell?”

“No, it’s such a good picture I want to show the world that I take pictures of the most beautiful women and do it well. I think that picture will bring in extra business. I’ll reduce the bill by fifteen percent if you say yes.”

I said yes, picked up my copy of the flash drive and went to meet Boris.

I was still a little early so I crossed the road and walked slowly in the direction he would come. When his car appeared, it drove past me, stopped very rapidly and reversed back. He peered at me through the windscreen, got out of the car and opened the door, “Sorry, I didn’t recognise you, it was the yellow dress that made me stop to check. What have you been up to, you look like a photographer’s model, beautiful? Wait till you get back to the Café, you’ll spend an hour having to tell the girls where you had your hair done.”

And the photographs I thought.

When I got back, the first person I saw was Barbara coming out of the kitchen and heading towards her room. I held my finger to my lips and nodded towards my room and went straight in. She closed the door, “My God, you look terrific, what have you been doing.”

I plugged my laptop in and as soon as it was ready I started downloading the pictures. “Keep quiet, and you’ll see.”

“Who did your hair?”

“It’s only a wash and set.”

“The makeover?”

“You are about to see.”

The computer prompt came up and I selected slide show and got of the chair and told Barbara to sit and then I sat on the bottom of my bed beside her. She watched in silence for about ten of the pictures, “These are terrific, who did them?”

“The photographic studio in the high street.”

She went silent again until the slideshow reached the portraits and when it got to the one I thought was best she said. “Stop it there.”
I did and she looked at me then the picture for a good few seconds and looked at me again, “That’s absolutely beautiful.”

I hit play again and fast forwarded to the black skirt and low cut blouse pictures and when she saw the first of me leaning forward and smiling directly into the camera her hand went to her mouth, “Talk about flaunting it.” Then after a few frames, up came the stocking top picture, she said nothing just stared at me and then went back to the slide show. Eventually the last picture came up and she immediately reversed to the stocking top shot, “Helen what have you been up to. You were so shy and retiring, too afraid to go out on your own and here you are posing for pictures for a garage wall calendar.”

I smiled, “Nope, prison cell walls.”

“Huh?”

“You know about the picture taken of me outside here and what happened?”

“Yes, of course we’ve got one taped to the wall in the common room.”

“Right. It took me by surprise and I was a bit upset but when Paul told me the prisoners were taping them to the walls of their cells and asking about the concert, I thought I’d get my own back and so I’m going to see that this one and one or two others go over to the main prison.”

“Christ, they’ll start a fan club.”

“I’m going to use one for the poster of all of us so we have to arrange to go to the studio and get some group shots done for the programme. Do you think the girls will agree?”

“When they see these, yes. I think it’s terrific, we can all be glamour models and we’ll be set up for life.”

“There’s these as well,” and I showed her the framed pictures.

“Who are they for, friends?”

“Sort of, this one is for you know who and the others for friends I suppose,”

“Can I have this one,” she held up a picture of me in the yellow dress standing in front of a backdrop scene of woodland, half profiled with my head turned slightly up as if I were looking at the sky I had a gentle smile on my face. Brenda had turned a fan on and the photographer had captured a moment when the hem had lifted a little to show just a little of the front of the petticoat. The picture looked so innocent.

“Really, you want that one?”

“Yes please.”

“Corse you can have it, I have two of those, the other is for…”

“I know you had better let him have one of the stocking top pics as well just to let him know you have an adventurous side.”

“No! And don’t you even let him see that pic.”

“You’ll have to show them to May later to see if she agrees with the poster and programme idea.”

“I’ll let her see the lot and tell her of the other pictures we need. I’ll give her the details of my ideas for the poster and programme and see if she can sweet talk Boris into letting us go and have them done.”

Barbara took her pictures and left, it was time for lunch and I had an office cleaning promise to keep afterwards. I changed the yellow dress for a white cotton blouse, the dogtooth mini skirt and grabbed a headscarf and one of my pinnies.

Maria looked closely at me. “Hair is very pretty but too much makeup.”

“It was for a photo shoot, Mummy.”

“Yes, Barbara show me pictures, beautiful portrait.” My heart missed a beat; she was going to really have a go at me if Barbara had shown her the other picture. Barbara had, Maria had it in her hand but to my surprise she said, “This good also, very saucy, make boyfriend’s heart beat faster make him interested in wife to be.”

I whispered, “Will Mummy tell me how to make more saucy pictures for husband?”

“You be careful or husband spank saucy wife.”

“Ooh, will he?”

She laughed, “Go and sit,” and turned away to fetch our lunches.

In Chapters 17 and 18; A missed kiss and a new car.

Vesta’s Hearth Volumes one to four, ( close to 90 chapters,) is published on Amazon Kindle.
Nearly completed is Murmuring with Starlings, some of you will have seen a little of this under its working name, ‘First Dates are Kissing Dates.’

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Vesta’s Hearth Chapters 17 and 18

By

Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012

This is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Helen learns to hate telephones, yearns for a kiss and takes her brand new 50 year vintage Ford Zephyr Zodiac for a spin.

17

I cleaned the offices, Adam’s first and then I threw Boris out of his whilst I did that and finished with Allen. May found me when she came in for the evening’s rehearsal and brought a load of paper and art materials with her. “Two of the guards are bringing in a draughting table and I’ve asked them to put it in the common room, that way you won’t be disturbed by the rehearsals whilst you are working, will that suit you.”

“Yes that’s fine,” we went to the common room just as the two guards were leaving. They, smiled, we’ve put it near the windows where the light is good, Miss Finch,” they nodded at May and walked past.

“What was the Miss Finch bit about?”

“Haven’t you heard about the photo of me?”

“I heard there was a picture taken and it’s found its way into the main prison.”

“Haven’t they just. Apparently I’ve become the pin up of the cellblock.”

May laughed, “Well you do look good and it must have given your self-esteem a boost.”

“Not at first, I was embarrassed but I’ve really gone and done it now.” I handed over the packets I was carrying, “Here take these in and I’ll get my laptop, there’s something I need to show you and a few ideas to discuss.”

When May saw the pictures she was impressed and liked my ideas on the posters and programme but when I showed her the cleavage and stocking top pics, she had to sit down she laughed so much. “Helen they are terrific, when you fight back, you really do use your weapons. When that lot over there get their hands on these, they won’t be calling you Miss Finch, they’ll be throwing themselves at your feet and calling you Highness.”

“I think I might go the whole hog and become the jail tease.”

“Why not, the publicity for the concert is great as well. I’ll speak to Boris about getting everybody to Chichester for the pics, when do you want it done.”

“Paul is picking up a car for me on Monday so I’ll need to be here. Tuesday I am in London for a hospital appointment but I do need the pictures as soon as possible, how about Wednesday?”

“I’ll get him to agree, I’d like to come as well.”

“Yes, you must, your input for the pictures is important and I’ll need Maria, I want a portrait of her for the programme.”

And then we went to work, May went into the rehearsal room leaving me to sort out the draughting table and materials and shortly I heard Diana on the piano, it must have been Maeve on the cello and May’s violin and then April once again singing Softly Awakes My Heart. And I started my initial roughs for the poster.
I was about half way through the programme sheets and had been concentrating so hard that the others in the rehearsal room had faded from my consciousness when April started to sing again this time with only the harp and piano as accompaniment and gently, her beautiful contralto voice started and she’d managed to lift it to mezzo. I had to stop working as she sang The White Cliffs of Dover. Had Vera Lynn been here she would have been proud of April, I certainly was, her singing was so poignant I had to brush away tears and as she finished, the ever perfectionist May tapped the piano and they started again.
Eventually the rehearsal room quietened and I had finished my roughs, it was time to get ready for dinner. I heard Maeve and Diane cross the corridor to the kitchen to help Maria, and then May’s voice, an occasional note on the piano and April singing scales. I left my roughs for May to look at if she wished and went down to my room. I was about to go in when Adam’s door opened, I turned to say hullo and froze. “I wanted to thank you for letting me have this picture,” Adam held up a copy of my portrait, “And for the flowers left on my desk, they brighten the room.”

I hurried across to him and held out my hand, “I’m sorry, Adam, I didn’t put the portrait in your room nor the flowers.” I could see them on the desk an enormous bunch of beautifully arranged chrysanthemums, they had obviously come from the garden.

“Oh, well who did?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know I have been in the common room getting posters for the concert ready, I suspect it may have been Barbara.”

He looked at the picture, “Oh that’s a pity, I liked it so much.”

“You did.”

“Yes, it really shows you off, your hair, the beauty of your face and your eyes, giving away your inner self. I would have liked to keep it on my desk to remind me of the success you have made of yourself and the contribution I may have made.”

“You didn’t ‘may have made’, you did make, please keep the picture and thank you for the compliment.”

“I’ll put it back on my desk, thank you.”

I followed him into the room and after he had replaced the portrait he turned and I suddenly remembered the advice I had received some while ago, was it Amy, Ronnie, one of the girls; and I took an extra step and stood close, tilted my head and looked up at his face. He did nothing at first but I noticed his pupils had dilated, his eyes seemed enormous, beautiful and I waited and said a prayer to Vesta. I saw him begin the raise his arms, he was going to embrace me, at last he was going to kiss me and I half closed my eyes and waited for the touch of his lips on mine and then the Devil came into the room and the telephone rang.

He muttered a curse and turned away, he had to answer it. I sighed and left his office quietly and went to my room. I sat on the bed, wrapped my arms around myself and wanted to cry, shout my outrage, no scream it, he was going to kiss me, he was definitely going to kiss me and at that moment I started to hate telephones, really hate them, hate them almost as much as I hated whoever had been on the other end of that telephone line.

At dinner I had little to say, Adam joined us and through the meal, when I glanced in his direction he was looking at me and was that just a touch of sadness in his smile?

The others were chatting away in the normal manner but I said little and both Maria and Barbara kept glancing at me. When we had finished, Adam stood up, “I’m duty mentor tonight and the phone call I received,” he looked at me when he said it, “Was from the main prison, I’m needed over there for an hour or two.” He was talking to me but including the others, “I’ll be back as quickly as possible and if there’s a problem, tell our guards and they will get hold of me.” He hesitated, gave me a last look and then nodded and left the kitchen with my eyes following until the door closed behind him. I turned back to the table and Maria got up and came round to my chair and placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, she knew something had happened but not what. “Barbara,” just the name and then to the others, “I have to go soon so all help with the clearing up.”

Barbara came to me and took my hand, “Let’s go into the rehearsal room,” and I allowed her to lead me, my mind on Adam.
Once inside with the door closed Barbara asked, “What happened, Helen, something went wrong, what?”

“It did, he found the portrait you left on his desk and I was going to take it back.”

“You didn’t?”

I shook my head and told her what happened and at the end I said, “He was going to kiss me, Barbara, I know he was going to kiss me before that lousy telephone rang,” and then I started to cry.

She didn’t hug me or try to sooth away the tears she just went to the piano, pulled out the stool, sat and opened the lid. “Sing, Helen.”

I shook my head.

“Sing,” and she started the intro to The First Time Ever I saw Your Face, and I started to sing, and thought of the kiss that never happened. I never noticed the door open, nor the girls in the doorway nor them leaving when I finished. And tears poured out of my eyes throughout the song.

Barbara got up from the piano and left the room and three or four minutes later Maria came in, put two chairs together and made me sit and then she put her arm around me and hugged me close, “Two Spirit is sad.”

“Both Spirits, mummy.” I turned my face to hers and she wiped the tears from my eyes with gentle fingers, “I love him so much.”

“I know and I heard what happened.”

“I wanted that kiss so badly.”

“The kiss will come, my little daughter, the kiss will come because Maria is wise in the ways of men and Adam is in love with you. He did not refuse to kiss you, he had to answer phone, he is doctor and must always respond to a cry for help.”

I threw my arms around her, “I know but I want him to hold me, I want his kisses, I want to have his love.”

“It will happen, soon. It will happen, even doctor cannot disobey his heart forever. Your special Manitou the one you pray to, Vesta, she will hear your cry for help and Adam will sit at the hearth you keep warm for him.”

I nodded and got up from the chair, “I’m better now, Mummy, shall we go back to the others.”

When I walked into the common room it fell silent and they all looked at me, Maria must have made a sign because they resumed talking, only May kept her eyes on me, “We are discussing the programme, you okay with that, we’ll understand if you want to leave and go to your room.”
“No, I’m okay and we do need to get things sorted out.”

So we spent an hour going through our songs and instrumentals until we had completed our programme and May put her coat on, took up her bag and said, “Right, I have a husband waiting for me, I have to go home. Helen, will you walk me to the door.”

We walked in silence until we reached the reception door and as the guard approached to open it, May shook her head and turned to me. “The concert is taking a lot out of you, bearing in mind what you are going through, do you think you should pull out?”

I stared at her aghast, “No! Am I not rehearsing properly, May? I’ll pick myself up, don’t drop me, I am living for it.”

She took both my hands and held them, “I wouldn’t drop you for anything, Helen, I just needed to make sure you want to continue.”

“I do, I must, we’ve put something good together and it wouldn’t work if somebody else came in at such short notice. Keep it the way it is, May.”

She looked at me and smiled, “Helen it wouldn’t work as well with somebody else no matter how much notice they had. You are the heart and soul of the group, their inspiration.” She looked down at my hands, “If you sing with the passion you have sung on the last two occasions, you will do what every performer tries to accomplish,” she raised my hands and slowly closed my fists, “You will have the audience held in your hands, spellbound.” She released my hands and nodded to the guard and walked out and I watched her until she got into her car and drove off. Did she mean it? Yes she did, I know I had held them spellbound a few nights ago and I could do it again and better, my singing was borne on the wings of love.
I went into my room and switched the laptop on and began the laborious job of updating the programmes I would need for my graphics work and when I finished, I got undressed and went to bed. I never heard Adam return.

On Sunday we had gathered in the rehearsal room, I asked Barbara if Adam was coming in, “Not today or Monday, he has his other practice to attend to, Allen is here tonight and Boris on Monday. Sorry kid but if it helps he did ask where you were when he got back and again when he left.”

“Oh I wish you had woken me up.”

Barbara shook her head, “I was tempted to but when I looked into your room, you were out to the world and I thought you had had enough for one day.”

I nodded, “Thanks anyway.”

Allen came in with a woman. This is Pauline Harris, she is the wardrobe mistress of the Music Society and has come to measure you.”

“Aren’t we wearing our own clothes?” asked Barbara.

“Yes, but there are one or two pieces where I think having you dressed in the same style and colour would look better,” replied May, “And the Music Society has offered to lend us the clothes if we can fit everybody with the same look.”

And so we were measured and then Pauline and May went off to the common room to discuss the style. We weren’t going to be told until the fitting so we put records on and danced, Allen had a field day dancing with all of us but he was a tadge worn out at the end and not a little relieved when May and Pauline returned. “Right, we have a photo shoot on Wednesday and Pauline will bring the dresses, we can check the fit and use them in some of the shots.”

“Photo shoot?” asked Maeve.

“Didn’t you tell them, Helen?”

“Sorry I was a bit preoccupied yesterday evening and forgot.”

May nodded, “Okay well its Wednesday, any of you have difficulties with that? You get a free hairdo and a makeover but if it isn’t convenient, say so” There was no dissent and even a cheer when May said “I’m off, my husband will start getting uppity if he doesn’t get his Sunday dinner and he’s an assistant head master so I risk the cane.”

“Ooh,” said April, “Can we watch.”

“No you can stay here and help Maria when she comes in shortly, we’ve been deserting her.”

I hoped that Maria would forgive me but I had to get on with the posters and left the others to do the kitchen and prepare the vegetables for dinner.
It wasn’t long before Maria came in and I heard her talking to the others and shortly after she quietly entered the common room. “How is my daughter?”

“I’m okay, Mum.”

“So yesterday you little daughter and call me mummy, today you grow up and call me mum.”

I dropped my pencil and turned to her and gave her a big hug, “Thank you for helping me yesterday.”

“Is better, I stay here for while and watch you work.”

“Okay.”

I finished the job I was on and put it in my art folder and placed a clean sheet of cartridge on the board in the portrait position and with quick glances at Maria, I began doing a pencil sketch of her. I worked quickly less she became curious at my constant glances and when she did notice, she got up, “What are you working on now, can I see.”

I stepped back, I was delighted with the work, it showed Maria off beautifully and when I had time I was going to finish it and have if framed.
She stepped up to the drawing table and looked, took a step closer and studied it for a long while then she turned to me, “Is me!”

“I haven’t even got a photo of my mother, so I thought I would do that until I have one.”

She looked at the picture again, “You make me look beautiful.”

“You are beautiful. The most beautiful person in my life.”

She hurried away from the board and sat in her chair with her head turned away from me, there wasn’t a sound but I knew she was crying and I was glad that I was the one who had made her cry. After a while, she got up and went to her handbag and took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, “You make me cry with happiness.”

“Good, you deserve to cry with happiness every day.”

April broke the moment when she slid the hatch open, “About forty five minutes, here’s a glass of wine.”

Maria picked up the glasses, “You want me to come in and help?”

“No, no we’re doing all right, you stay there.” And hurriedly closed the hatch.

Maria smiled, “She is good girl, she orders others around like a chef and they do as she says.”

18

I had planned a leisurely breakfast before Paul arrived to pick up the Zodiac but a call at eight started a panic. He had to let the driver he was taking with him go out on a job so he would need me to drive his car back whilst he brought the Zodiac. It had to be done that way because he could put me on his insurance by declaring me as a part time limousine driver but that would only cover me for his cars, he would have to drive mine on his insurance.

As soon as I told Barbara she shot into Boris’s office and came out with a beam on her face, “I’ve wangled a morning off and can come with you and return with Paul.”

“This is just a scam to get a ride in the Zodiac, isn’t it?”

She nodded unashamedly, “I’ll be the first of the girls to get a ride.”

“Not exactly dressed for an open top Ford Zodiac are you,” I nodded at her T-shirt top and skirt and pointed at my yellow dress, lifting the skirt a little to show the petticoat. I think I’ll have to buy more dresses and petticoats; I was going to wear this yellow dress out.

That wiped the smile of her face, “Please, Helen, please.”

I gave her a moment’s tension then smiled, “Skirt and petticoat are in the wardrobe and there’s a scrunchy in the dressing table drawer for the ponytail.”

A few minutes later she shot out of my room still wearing her T shirt but with my black full skirt and red petticoat with a ponytail flicking back and forth, she disappeared into her own room. There was the sound of panicked drawer opening and shutting, then a wardrobe door opened and a minute later, Barbara came out buckling a wide black patent belt over a deep red tunic blouse.

“Why not the poodle skirt?” I enquired.

“I don’t have a white patent belt, but I like this better and my shoes go with it.”

They did, black patent three inch heels, “Makes you look a bit dom.”
“So it should I am your BIG sister.”

“Okay big sis, what about a neck scarf and handbag.”

“Oh God,” and she shot back into her room again. It reminded me my look wasn’t complete either, so I went into my room and found my white lace gloves and small white clutch bag.

“You look like something off a 50’s album cover,” said Maeve from the other end of the corridor.

“That’s good, we’re off to the diner and then the hop,” I called back and then the sound of Paul’s horn sounded and we went through the door to the Ford Zodiac’s land of Dreamboats and Petticoats.

Once we were settled on the road to Chichester, Paul passed a packet back to me, “Seeing as you two are dressed for the part and it’s an Indian summer’s day, you’d better take a look at these.”

I took the packet and Barbara looked over from the seat beside Paul. I opened it, pulled out the contents and shrieked, “How did you do it?”

“Wasn’t me on my own, the Prison Governor, Boris and Amy helped to supply the necessary proof. All I did was have a talk with my insurance broker and the Governor had a word with a buddy at the Department of Transport and presto, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.”

“What is it,” asked Barbara.

I held up the documents, “Driving licence in the name of Helen Vesta Finch, insurance policy and certificate for a Ford Zodiac with my name on them.” I looked closer at the policy, “I’ve even kept my no claims bonus.”

“Does that mean we can both go back in the Zodiac?”

“Yup,” answered Paul “But I’ll be right behind you so no screeching tyres, ex Porsche driver or not.”

“How did you get the no claims transferred?”

“Letter from Boris and another from Amy confirming that you were the original insured person and that you are undergoing gender correction and that you had been diagnosed as intersexed. They couldn’t refuse and even promised a better price on your next quote due to a lowering of the vehicles insurance class,” he saw the look of puzzlement on my face in the driving mirror, “You are driving a Zodiac now which has a much smaller engine and a top speed of under ninety and it’s counted as a family car as opposed to a vroom-vroom sportster. Disc brakes on the front, drums on the back and she’s in superb condition, really was a cherished car.”

Barbara sighed, “Two unique birds in a unique car, I can’t wait. Are we going on a rave, Helen?”

“With me right behind you,” warned Paul. “There’s another thing; I guessed you’d want the car to look right so I’ve ordered a set of tyres for it, I’ll have them next week.”

“I can’t remember anything wrong with the tyres, I had a quick look before I took it on the test drive.”

“There is nothing wrong with the current set. The new ones are white-walls, bags of swank and stylish with it.”

“That’s us,” I said and sunk back in the seat and grinned at Barbara, “I can lose him on the bends.”

We stopped at a filling station on the way back and filled up and before setting off again I went back to Paul who looked totally out of place in the Mondeo. “Would you like to drive the Zodiac, I can take her out for a spin anytime.”

He jumped out of the car, “You sure?”

“Certain, here,” I handed over the keys. “Would it be a nuisance if we went to the hospital on the way, I need to repay a loan from Amy?”

“No, we’ll change cars about a mile or so before we get there and you can go to the hospital in the Zodiac, the guards know you now and will let you in, any probs, get them to phone Amy or Ronnie.”

We changed cars in a lay-by and Paul drove off leaving us alone to complete the mile to the prison. I stopped at the main gate and a guard came out looking at a clipboard, “Sorry, you’re not on the list…Oh. It’s you Miss Finch, just a minute; I’ll get the gate opened.” We stopped again outside the gatehouse whilst he filled out a temporary permit. “This your motor?”

“Just bought it,”

“Nice, really nice. Stop on the way out and I’ll get the Governor to authorise an entry permit.”

At the hospital reception they phoned Amy’s office and told me she would be down in five minutes so I went outside and waited in the car. When Amy came down, she hesitated in the reception area until the guard pointed to us. She walked out with her mouth open, “My goodness, Ronnie told me about this car, it’s beautiful. I want to go for a spin, I have a free half hour.”

I took her for a short ride and she loved every minute and when we got back, I repaid her the loan and said, “Shall we go to London tomorrow in this?”

“Aw, Helen, I’d love to but we’ll never find a parking space at the hospital.”

When we stopped again at the gatehouse the guard took the temporary permit off me and handed over a disc, “Stick this on the windscreen and we’ll let you in.”

“Thanks.”

“Er, you wouldn’t sign these would you and he held out copies of the glamour shots. Course I will, which is your favourite?”

“This one,” and he held up the stocking top shot, “Terrific legs.” He looked at Barbara, “You in the show as well?”

“Yes.”

“Got any pics?”

Barbara looked startled, “No actually, I haven’t.”

“We’ll have some after Thursday,” I told him.

“Give us a couple will yer, to hang up in the gatehouse.”

Barbara gave me a long look as we left, “What was that all about, pictures of me?”

“I’m not the only glamour pants, you’re a showgirl now, gotta get used to the stage door Johnnies.”

She shook her head in disbelief, “This is unreal.”

“Not the way you’re dressed, unreal is too modern, try ‘Way Out, Man’

“I’ll remember. Has May mentioned any further performances to you?”

“No, is she planning something?”

“Not sure, she spoke to me about it at the weekend. I think the Governor said something about only a limited number of the inmates could get in to the show, and if it was a success, he would like to repeat it.”

“Terrific, we’ll need a booking agent next. What happens if we get a contract for a nationwide tour of Her Majesty’s prisons?”

Barbara turned and looked at me, a serious expression on her face, “It was only an idea the Governor had and May wanted to see how everybody felt about a second, possibly a third performance. What worries me though is it only needs one person with a video camera or a mobile phone and we would finish up on You Tube.”

“Ah, now that would be difficult. Have you mentioned it to the others?”

“Yes, April said she wanted to be a chef or own a restaurant, Diana said trooping around the country on tour wasn’t her cup of tea and Maeve didn’t say much but gave me the impression she wouldn’t be wild about it.”

“And you?”

“No, I want to marry Paul and work in his office. You?”

“The same as you. I want to marry, build a home, look after a man and be home most nights and cuddled, not stuck in a hotel signing autographs and I want to be able to go out and not be followed by a bunch of snoopy reporters digging into my private life. I have a well-paid career waiting for me in the marketing and PR business and have been offered my old job back, full time, I’m not super star material.”

“That’s the bloody trouble, you are.”

“Don’t be daft. I’m not even the best singer, April is way out in front of me.”

“No she’s not and she’d be the first to admit it. She said she can sing as well as you and her voice is possibly better but you sing with a passion she couldn’t match and anyway, she wants to bake cakes and pies and run her own restaurant. Whereas you have looks, a voice and a beautiful personality and it comes out when you’re singing you’d be a hit.”

“No, Barbara, you forgot the most important ingredient. Looks and talent are secondary to one thing, you must want to do it and I don’t.”

She turned away from me and looked out of the windscreen and after a while said, “I’m glad, it means I get to keep you as a friend. You wouldn’t mind putting the odd show on for charity, hospitals, prisons…”

“Entertaining the troops?”

“Oh boy, all those hunks in uniform. Would you like to do that?”

“Yes, I’ve enjoyed the past few weeks of rehearsals and would like to do it again but only once every few weeks or so, perhaps once every three months which would give us plenty of time to prepare and still leave us time for our own lives, yes, I would enjoy that.”

“Good, then Maria’s Café New Girls marches on.”

“Maria’s Café New Girls where did that come from.”

Barbara looked at me tentatively, “Just an idea for our name.”

“She’ll be over the moon.”

The tentative look was replaced with a grin, “Over the moon, is that Fifties? I thought it was Cool with a C. The Fonze uses it.”

Cool with a C was the order of the day when we arrived at the Café. There were three highly expectant girls waiting for us, two with ponytails and one, Maeve whose hair was too short, with a page-boy and dressed in a straight black skirt, white blouse and bolero jacket looking for all the world as if she was on her way to Breakfast At Tiffany’s.

“Boris said we can have two hours and we had sandwiches instead of lunch so we don’t have to rush back,” said an excited April.

“Cool,” said Diane and both Barbara and I started giggling.

“They don’t make them like that anymore,” commented Maeve, “Zodiacs had style even in their day and today well,” she shrugged, “Nobody is going to ignore this when it drives past.”

“Especially with us lot in it,” added Diane. “Where are we going?”

“Well you lot might have had lunch but we haven’t,” answered Barbara, “So it’s a pub lunch and then we go for a spin and I’m not giving up the front seat cos I’m the only one apart from Helen that’s in costume.”

Off we went in the gleaming two-tone Ford Zodiac Mk II and I had to smile when I saw a Ford K4 with two burly men sitting in front dressed in suits and ties pull out a discreet distance behind us. We drove for half an hour and found a village pub doing food. We pulled into the front car park and climbed out receiving a few glances, a whistle and a couple of smiles from village mums and in we went to halves of lager and ploughman’s for two.
We did turn a few heads. At first it was the usual glance that a new arrival receives when they enter a pub but the looks in some cases followed us to a table and kept returning as we ate or drank. The two characters from the K4 had followed us in and were nursing iced cokes and Maeve frowned after a while, “I’m sure I know those two.”

“You should, they’re our warders.”

Diane glared at them and turned to me, “Did you know they were following us?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose they’re watching in case we pull a job,” said April.

“Nope, they’re acting as bodyguards, Boris trusts us and wouldn’t have us tailed.” I got up, “I’m going to ask them over, anybody object?”

There were unanimous shakes of the head so I walked over, conscious of the eyes following me, “Come on over and sit with us, George.”

“You won’t mind? Boris asked us to make sure nobody troubled you, we didn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding, you’re family come on over, we’re not staying long anyway. We came out for a drive.”

“Yeah that’s a nice motor,” said George getting up.

They followed me back to our table and I smiled at the spectators and there was a collective sigh as George and Will sat down with us and within minutes the pub owner came over, “Food okay ladies.”

“It’s great, thank you, makes a nice change from cheese rolls in the rehearsal rooms. We’re showgirls and have been rehearsing since seven this morning and needed a break. The two gents are our male dancers.” Will nearly choked on his drink.

When we got back, Will parked my car in the staff car park and we went into the Cafe. May was waiting and we had just five minutes to change and then go to dancing lessons, not concert lessons but the normal lessons we had been having. At the end of the session she paired us off, me with Barbara and set a rock and roll record on and we had ten minutes of jiving. Whether or not it had anything to do with the Zodiac trip or the music Barbara and I kept switching rolls, one minute her leading, the next me. April was dancing with Maeve and they were doing the same, Diane joined us and then we were jiving with three, two girls rolls and one boys and May was walking around, studying each dancer in turn and making notes, I knew she had an idea buzzing around and did wonder if she was thinking of adding a dance number to the concert programme. We didn’t have one but rock and roll when the rest of the programme was either classical or soft ballads, would that work? It was almost a violent change of pace, Bill Haley versus Elgar, Rock Around The Clock versus The Enigma Variations. It would make the audience sit up in their seats that was for sure.
Once the dancing lesson was over, he had time for a short break to get our breath back and then Maria appeared and April and Barbara had to help with the evening meal whilst Maeve and Diane went back into rehearsals with their harp and violin. I was free to get on with the poster so went into the common room and started on the final layout. It didn’t take long and then I sat for a while at the board thinking about Barbara’s suggestion for the group’s name; Maria’s Café New Girls. I needed my laptop so hurried down to my room. As I left, Adam came through from reception and stopped, “I’ll need to have a quick chat about tomorrow when you have a moment.”

“I’m working in the common room on the posters at the moment.”

“Okay, are you alone?”

“Yes, the others are in the kitchen or rehearsal room.”

“Right, if it won’t disturb your work, can I come up in a few minutes.”

“Yes of course, the work won’t require full concentration and I can talk as long as the questions aren’t too heavy.”

“Nothing like that, just a talk about tomorrow, I’ve been over it with Peter and Amy, I just want to make sure you are okay with everything.”

I went into the common room and sat at the board thinking about Adam and I could have sat like that for an hour but I had to get the poster ready and forced my mind back to the drawing board; ‘The Last Night Of The Cons – Maria’s Café New Girls In Concert’ and then the blank space for the picture and below that, ‘From Rock To Romance’ and finally; ‘Sunday November 4th.’
I must have been concentrating hard because I didn’t hear Adam come in until he spoke as I put my ink pen down, “That’s good, the idea and finished drawing. You really know your job,” he smiled, “I must be sure to get tickets.”

“Invitation only I’m afraid but don’t worry, I’ll speak to May and be sure you’re invited.”

He put my file on a table, “I’ve been listening to the rehearsals and really am looking forward to it, you’re quite a talented group of people.”

“Talented? We’re gifted.”

His eyes softened, “That you certainly are, Helen. Now about tomorrow, I won’t keep you long. I simply want to know how your feel about Charing Cross.”

“Apprehensive. I really don’t know what they are going to do or say and it worries me. I feel as if I’m about to jump into the sea without knowing the temperature of the water.”

“Forget your worries. You will be with Gender Clinic people; they are all specialists and have treated hundreds of intersexed people.” He took up a sheet of paper, “This is more or less your itinerary. You will have a full medical that will check over your general health and then the gender specific stuff. Blood tests and then a full torso scan. Then you will spend about forty five minutes with a psychiatrist who will ask you much the same questions as Peter and he will have seen Peter’s and Amy’s reports so there should be no problems there. There will be a break after that for about an hour, time to pop out for lunch with Amy and then back to the hospital who will have had the results of the tests and scans. They may want you to talk to the assessment panel if there are any points they need to go into in more detail but that shouldn’t last more than a half hour.”

“Is that when they make their decision?”

“No, not the final decision but they will give you a provisional judgement and almost certainly decide on a next appointment date.”

“They will have my whole future in their hands then?”

Adam shook his head, “No, the final decision will always be yours. They may decline to treat you if they think you are not truly intersexed or mentally committed and unable to continue as you are but Amy, Boris, Peter and myself are of the opinion that, unless they are completely stupid, which they are not, they will agree with our diagnosis, there is more than enough evidence to support it. Tomorrow will result in their recommendations with regard to your final treatment, including sex reassignment surgery if you want it but whatever happens, it is and always will be your decision and they are very sympathetic, specialists in the field.”

“But what would happen if they say no to me, you’re a man and must go back to being one.”

“Not a chance but if they did, Amy and we others will declare war.” He stood up and gave me the itinerary and placed his arm around my shoulders, “You have nothing to worry about. Now I have a pile of work to do and I need a supply of coffee to get me through it,” he squeezed my shoulder, “Let us do the worrying we promise no harm will come to you and by the way, I love the new pictures going the rounds, great legs.”

I slapped his shoulder, “Get out,” and as he walked to the door I asked, “Do you really think so?”

In chapters 19 and 20, Amy takes Helen to Charing Cross Hospital for her assessment and to learn what her future may be.
Vesta’s Hearth volumes 1 – 4 is now available on Kindle E Books.

Soon to be published - Murmuring with Starlings.

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Vesta’s Hearth Chapters 19 and 20

By

Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012
This is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Vesta’s Hearth is not considered suitable as reading matter for minors.

Amy takes Helen to Charing Cross Hospital for her assessment and to learn what her future may be and after the hospital, Helen reveals more than she intended at a second visit to a photographer.

19

The following morning Paul picked us up in the Lexus, I was glad it was one of the larger cars, I was in an introspective mood and the extra room allowed me to sit in a corner. Amy didn’t say very much about the purpose of the trip, just generalities but when we got onto the train and had settled in the first class compartment she immediately asked me if I was worried about the day. I nodded, “Can’t help it, Amy. Adam spoke to me yesterday and put me at ease but this morning when I awoke I had the feeling that this was my last day that from now on, things would be different.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Bad, I’m so frightened.”

“Of the hospital and doctors?”

“Yes and of myself. I keep asking myself if I’m really me now or am I having some sort of mental breakdown, a mind that has wandered off into a land of dreams or nightmares. A few months ago I was a man doing a job and being successful and then suddenly a bolt of lightning struck and virtually overnight I became a woman. Other people like me were either intersex at birth or came into it slowly, years in many cases; there was no sudden overnight change. I know you’ve explained that the shock of my court case was the probable cause of the suddenness but what if Charing Cross decide that my change is a temporary condition and I will just as suddenly change back. Suppose they want to put me in a mental hospital, give me electric shocks and turn me back into a man. Amy, I don’t want to go back. I had a terrible fright when it started to happen and I lost a great deal of confidence in myself and I became really frightened but I have learned to accept it. The longer I think about how I am now and compare that with the me before this happened, I realise how much was missing from my life, things that I now have. I don’t mean just having my hair styled differently, wearing pretty clothes, soft lingerie, make-up all those things, it’s well it’s…” I searched for the words “It’s having different ambitions, wanting different things. I would like to marry a nice man, have a good home and be in it, not just play the part of a wife but be that wife, really be it. I don’t mean a submissive little bimbo but to be a caring woman and feel that I am loved by a man, able to help him, look after him, be his true companion, oh I don’t know.” I looked out of the window, at the passing countryside; “My first priority now is to build a home, not a career. I’m not saying that I want to give up my graphic arts, what I’m saying is that I want a husband’s career to be the one to feel ambitious about, mine would be something I would like to return to provided it never interferes with my home. Now I want to arrange flowers and embroider table cloths not build kitchen cabinets or model airplanes, I want to dress up and look and feel good in my car, not tinker with the engine,” I turned back to her, I could feel the tears in my eyes, “I want to be certain that that is the real me and not some attempt to try and recover something I missed when I was younger, I want a man to hold me in his arms, kiss me, make love to me…”

“Any man?”

“No, Adam. And I’m so sure it has to be him and I’m scared that he’s s not going to be there, I just can’t imagine any other man with me, I don’t want another man and if I can’t be with Adam, then it is going to take me years, if at all, for me to find somebody else. I just get so miserable when I don’t see him for a few days.”

She took a Kleenex out of her bag and gave it to me. When I had dabbed my eyes dry she took my hand. “If it’s a comfort then Adam, unless everything I know as a woman is wrong, is in love with you, trust me, Helen, he loves you and if he is holding back it’s because he is questioning himself; does he love you as a woman or does he love you because you needed his help. I have no doubt he loves you as a woman not a patient and eventually it’s going to get through to him and then I think you will lose a mentor and gain a man and his love and when it happens you will realise that your ambitions are not from dreams but are the real you.”

“Do you truly believe so?”

Amy smiled and nodded, “Unlike you I didn’t suddenly become a woman, I had a lifetime to grow into it. You have had to learn in a few weeks what I had all my life to learn and just to scare you a bit, I am still learning but I know enough to recognise love between people I know so well. Adam loves you enough to stop working at the Café if he had to make that sacrifice to leave himself free to win you. Men are slow but when they do make up their minds, nothing stops them, they still have that caveman with a club gene in them and when they select their life’s partner, there’s no deflecting them.”

I smiled at the analogy, “Can I hope that one day he’ll give me a bump on the head and drag me to his cave?”

“Bet on it.”

“So there’s only the question of the hospital agreeing with us?”

“They will. You will not know this but Peter, before he came to Chichester, was a Harley Street man and a consultant at a major London hospital. His opinions are respected and the reason he isn’t working at Charing Cross is because he preferred to work here with the prison He is deeply interested in intersex related psychiatric medicine and he has greater freedom than if he were part of the team at Charing Cross.”

“Heavy stuff then, my big gun?”

“Big enough for Charing Cross to listen to him and he’s not the first patient he has referred, and so far he hasn’t been wrong and he has told me that his assessment of you with the medical evidence is the strongest case he has referred. He is inclined to think their interest is in the speed of your transition, hence me to put the brakes on if they want to investigate that side of it to too great a degree.”

I relaxed and sat back in my seat, “I feel a bit better about it now.”

“If you are asked, just tell them the things you have told me, you have no need to be specific, but I doubt they’ll ask. Now my expense account stretches to breakfast and the dining car is next door, let’s go and eat a railway breakfast.”

I don’t know if it was Amy and the way she spoke but as I rose from my seat and followed her to the dining car, I was acutely aware of my femininity, the feel of the satin softness of my lingerie, the sound of my heels on the floor, the whisper of nylon as my legs brushed against each other, the tickle of hair against my ears and the way the curls brushed my shoulders. I was wearing my charcoal straight skirt and a white blouse topped with a wool chunky knit long length jacket, I had dressed for a hospital appointment and yet I still had that feeling of softness in my clothes a certain delicacy as if they were caressing me. My body was soft underneath and now I was aware of my clothes whenever I moved, not just when they were uncomfortable. I enjoyed the scent of my perfume and I noticed the smile on the waiter’s face when he showed us to a table and flicked our seats with his towel and made a point of not staring at our knees when we sat.

Amy was watching me, “Enjoying it.”

“What, being a girl? Yes, every little thing.”

“There are times when it can be a nuisance.”

“Like when? For me never.”

“Like when you have a husband stomping up and down outside the bathroom asking if you’ve finished having a shower yet and accusing you of being in there for forty five minutes.”

“Or being a nuisance just because it takes three hours to get ready to go out,” I added.

“You’ve got it.”

“Or,” I said looking at the full English that Amy had ordered for both of us, “Having to count calories.”

“That’s the worst part.”

“I don’t have to do that, Maria has told me I need more fat for boobies.”

Amy’s laughter made other diners turn to look at us and I didn’t care, I ate my sausage bacon and eggs and added two sugars to my coffee, it was my duty to my husband-to-be, to grow nice boobs.

An hour later, we walked towards the reception area of the hospital and the moment we went through the revolving doors I started to tremble. Amy didn’t say a word, just took me by the hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze and steered me into the visitors’ café, “Tea or coffee?”

“No chance of a large vodka tonic?”

“Nope, not with your low tolerance for alcohol. Coffee and it will have to be quick, we are due in the clinic in less than a half hour.”

Twenty minutes later we entered the Gender clinic and Amy spoke for both of us, "Doctor Amy Freeman and Miss Helen Finch."

Five minutes after that we were called into the first medical room; “Doctor Freeman,” a nurse said holding out a white coat for Amy and to me a hospital gown. “Will you go into the cubicle and strip off and put this on.”

“All of it?”

“All of it, you can leave the nail varnish on.”

I sat on the bench for a couple of minutes, my ordeal had started now but the shakes stayed away, I undressed and slipped the gown on and went outside. Amy was speaking with the nurse and when she saw me came straight over, “Ready?”

“No, I’ll never be ready, you sure I can’t have that V and T?”

She smiled, “Up against the yard stick, flat feet, relaxed but upright.”

“You doing it then?”

“No, that would cause a strike, the nurse will measure you, weight you and get you onto the inspection table ready for the doctor.”

My height seemed about the same but my bust caused Amy to raise an eyebrow but she said nothing and then I was laid out like a corpse on the table which I noticed had stirrups, “Amy,” I whispered, “What are they for?”

“You in case we have to do an emergency re-assignment operation.”

“What." I started to sit up, "You didn’t say anything about that.”

“Kidding, just trying to get you mind settled, we won’t operate, they are there in case the doctor needs them for her inspection. I’m staying and any snipping bits off is reserved for me.”

I then went through the same medical I had had at the prison, measured, callipered, blood tested, poke and prodded until the doctor got down to my nether regions and then after taking my scrotum in her hands, looked at me, “You okay with this?”

I nodded and I felt her hands on me but not what they were doing, I was thinking of V and Ts until she called Amy over. “Check this, I’ve read your report and there is a change.”

Amy didn’t have to ask me if I was okay with it, she’d been there before and after a moment I felt her spread the flesh of my scrotum, “See quite distinct separation but not split into separate cups.”

The other Doctor looked and made some notes, “This must have started early in the development and yet you say the ovaries are complete.”

“And Ovation, twice at least.”

“And before the admission to the Café there were no other symptoms.”

“No, not noticed symptoms that is.”

“Right let’s get the scan done.”

The scan seemed to go on forever and I wanted to scratch my nose, my hair and my thighs in fact everything within range of my hands but I remained motionless and eventually I was taken back to the medical room and told to get dressed.

“Okay Miss Finch,” The psychiatrist will have a chat with you now and then its lunch and back here for the assessment. You okay?”
“I’m fine, Amy will you be coming with me?”

“As far as his reception desk, the interview is you alone but if you have a problem and need to speak to me, tell him.”

I went in to see the doctor and was surprised when he got up from his desk and walked across the carpeted room to greet me. “Miss Finch I have been looking forward to this meeting since I first read the reports,” he guided me to a comfortable chair and waited until I was seated but he didn’t take his eyes off me. When I was comfortable he leaned back against his desk, “Tea, soft drink?”

“Do you have a sparkling water?”

He went to a small fridge hiding behind a cabinet door and brought a bottle, glass and a coaster and put them on a small circular table beside me and went to his chair on the other side of the desk, waited until I had taken a drink and then surprised me with his next comment, “You’re a most attractive woman,” and then he smiled, “And I’m not the first person to tell you that.”

I began to relax; this was not the grilling I expected, “A time of two but it’s still nice to be reminded, especially after being poked, prodded and scanned.”

He nodded sympathetically, “Hospitals, I hate them,” and then he started to ask me questions about my childhood, adolescence and adulthood and made notes but in between the questions he would digress and discuss something quite off topic for a minute or two before going back to the questions. I was at ease, he was very good and I found I was answering his questions with greater ease and then surprisingly he stopped and stood up, “I think that’s enough for now, time for a break, I got up and stood there feeling foolish, “Is that it?”

“For now you have been very frank and I don’t want to tire you out, go and have lunch with Amy and then you can come back for another chat with us.”

“Have you come to a conclusion?”

“Just about but I can’t tell you anything until I’ve consulted with my colleagues.”

I must have frowned because he went on to say, “I could give you a clue but I’m only prepared to do that over dinner at Quaglinos, sadly I haven’t a free evening for at least a week so I suspect you would rather hear it here in an hour or two.” He took my arm, “Come on if I don’t return you to Amy she’ll be in here wanting to know what’s happened to her girlfriend.”

The girlfriend and I found a nice little bistro type restaurant off Hammersmith Broadway that was recommended by the clinic receptionist. As soon as we were settled I took out my compact and looked at my face, no damage to the make-up, my eyes hadn’t changed colour, my hair was still on my head and I still had two lips, so all in all it was a safer experience than I had anticipated. Amy watched the performance with a smile on her face, “You should have done that before we left the hospital.”

“Check my make-up?”

“Yes.”

“I nearly did but I thought they might think I was hamming it up for their benefit and anyway I wasn’t just checking my make-up, I was checking my face.”

“Narcissus.”

“Well it’s you lot who keep telling me how beautiful I look, I just wanted to know if there were any crow’s feet at the corners of my eyes. I have aged ten years this week.”

“It does show.”

“What!”

“Joking. What did the psychiatrist have to say?”

“Nothing really, asked me a lot of questions about my past, the sort that I had anticipated, chatted about this and that but didn’t really ask me a lot.”

“By ask you, you mean direct questions?”

“Yes. When he finished I asked if he had come to any conclusions and he said he would tell me but only over dinner at Quaglinos.”

“Posh stuff.”

“He qualified it by saying he didn’t have a free evening for a week.”

“That’s doctors for you,” there was a pause and then Amy said, “Don’t let him fool you, Helen, I know the man, he found out more about you chatting about this and that than he did with his questions.”

“You think he has made up his mind?”

“Well with the reports of the groundwork already undertaken at the Café and the medical examination, I would say yes. It’s unusual after only one assessment but the scan will confirm what I have already told them and so will the blood results, though there may have been a change in your hormone levels.”

“What makes you say that?”

“All morning you have been playing with your bra, tugging it down or pulling the band out, it doesn’t fit correctly are you still using the support gels.”

“Yes, I didn’t want to undress with a saggy bra.”

“Take them out when we get back. What cup size is it?”

“A.”

“Time for an upgrade then, start wearing a B with the gels.”

“Oh. That was a bit sudden, I’m sure today was the first time I’ve had to keep adjusting my bra.”

“You were more relaxed until today, probably unaware of the slight discomfort. Temperature normal, headaches, flushes?”

“No, I’m not due until next week…” I stopped dead, what had I just said, ‘not due?’ “Good heavens, I’m thinking of periods.”

“Well you’ve been having them, ovaries tend to produce ovarian eggs at monthly intervals and we know you’ve had two periods so far.”

“I can’t have one next week, we have full length rehearsal and if I start getting moody it’ll be a disaster.”

“You may not have the unpleasant symptoms to that degree, if you do, let me know, I can prescribe something. Just don’t sleep with any men whilst it’s happening.”

“Sleep with men, I haven’t so far.”

“I know, I wanted to warn you in case you get pregnant because it would complicate things at this stage.”

I slammed my glass down on the table and it nearly shattered, “Pregnant! You said it was impossible.”

“Self-fertilization is impossible, so you’re safe as long as you don’t cuddle up and throw away your purity.”

“Amy! It’s the last thing on my mind.”

Amy was about to say something when her phone rang. She spoke little and ended the call with “We’re on our way, twenty minutes. Right,” she put the phone away, “That was the Hospital, they want us back. Your pregnancy test was positive.”

I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder and raced after Amy. I caught her up outside the bistro, “What do you mean positive!”

She stopped and looked at me, “Clever aren’t I.”

“Amy, what’s going on, what are you talking about, have you given me IVF without my knowing?”

“No, I was kidding you again. That’s what I mean about clever. You have been pretty relaxed the whole time since we left the hospital and that is how I wanted you to stay.”

“Relaxed! I nearly went into orbit when you said I was positive.”

“Practical thing to worry about, better than negative brooding over what a hospital doctor is going to tell you when we already know the answer.” She took my hand and we hurried into Fulham Palace Road and started to walk towards the hospital and she was right, I was relaxed, well I wasn’t pregnant, that was something to be cheerful about.

When we reached the hospital I stopped, “I don’t want to go through the revolving doors.”

“Why, you haven’t had any problems so far.”

“Amy I am so happy, so very, very happy. These past three or four months have been the happiest of my life and apart from not being kissed when I wanted it so much and having a pregnancy scare, nothing has really spoiled it. I have made wonderful friends, lots of them, I have lived how I wanted to and had fun and I have a feeling that if I go through those revolving doors I will wake up when I get to the other side and be in my old flat, in my old bed and all of this would have been a dream.”

“Can’t have that, I would cease to exist, come on,” and we went to the glass door for people in wheel chairs or like me, scared of revolving doors.
The dream did continued on the other side and when we got to the clinic, we were shown strait into the psychiatrist’s office. There were three people in there, the woman doctor who had given me my medical, the psychiatrist and another man. They were seated around a low, elliptical table and there were two arm chairs placed opposite for Amy and myself. The two men stood and the psychiatrist showed us to the chairs and once we were seated he placed glasses and bottles of sparkling water on the table for us and handed Amy a file. This is your copy, Amy,” and then to me, “You have already met Alice and I, but the other person present is Doctor Simon Beresford, he’s out photo intelligence man.”

“Photo intelligence, am I a military objective?”

Simon chuckled, “You’ll have to make allowances for Harry, he spent three years as an army doctor before being unleashed on the civilian population. I am a specialist in radiography, I look at scans, and X-rays and I have seen yours, both the earlier ones and those that were done today.”

Harry sat down and picked up another file, opened it and said, “Right, Helen here’s the results you are declining a dinner date for. First, we three have no doubts whatsoever about your gender, you are female…” I couldn’t stop myself, the tears welled up in my eyes and I buried my face in my hands and started to cry. Not just sobs but all out flood the world crying. Amy was on her feet immediately and produced a Kleenex from somewhere, sat on the arm of my chair and pulled me to her and cuddled me and when the others got up, she shook her head and they waited for a good five minutes until I stopped, wiped my eyes and cheeks, “Sorry, I couldn’t stop it.” Alice smiled, “Harry has that effect on everybody, I even scream sometimes.”

A minute or two later I had composed myself, Amy went back to her seat and Harry said, “Sorry about that but I thought you’d want to know that before we go into the details.”

I nodded, “I did but you said I was female and sometimes females cry when they are happy.”

“Yes, men as well when nobody is looking. Would you like me to go into the details?”

“Yes please.”

“Since your last examination with Amy, you have maintained your rapid change. Your hormones are at the level of a healthy woman, the sperm count is zero and your testes are now barely the size of a pea. Your breasts have continued to grow and you are now a 36A plus. Skin has softened further; your waist is down to just under 27, hips 36. At the current rate, soon after Christmas you should be in the region of 36B, 26, 36…”

“Venus de Milo,” I smiled.

“Yes indeed a classic figure. Body hair is non-existent apart from some in the pubic region and vestiges on the front of your neck, which will fall out and not return that will happen within a week or two. Thighs and bottom are well shaped and your muscle tone is again A-typical of a twenty-nine year woman not doing heavy manual labour. Your penis has also shrunk a little and for the rest, I will let Simon explain it to you."

Simon already had his file open, “If I may first elaborate on what I have told you about my job, Helen. I do little else but go over the photo intelligence as Harry has called it.” He glanced at Amy, “Amy is correct in her diagnosis of fully formed and working ovaries, the very early signs of the forming of fallopian tubes and the beginnings of the mouth of a uterus. What I also discovered were small signs of the beginnings of a cervix at the uterus and what can only be the upper wall of a vagina below it.” He looked at Amy, “You will have missed them, my equipment is more sensitive than that available to you and the indications are very small but they are there.” Amy nodded her acknowledgement and smiled, “And you are a great deal better than me because of your specialisation.”

“Not necessarily so, it’s the equipment I have available,” he said smiling, “Don’t put yourself down, Amy you are very good.” He turned back to me, “The assumption that your foetus had begun to form female reproductive organs and then changed its mind until suddenly a few months ago it switched again, is correct and once the ovaries began functioning and producing all the extra estrogen the brain decided to carry on with its original intention, and at a very rapid rate, hence the astonishing changes to your secondary sexual characteristics.”

“Are the reproductive organs beginning to grow again as well?”

“No, Helen, they are static and won’t grow further. Your body is too old now to start producing the new cells that would be needed. The change in breast and hips is just the brain telling the body to re-arrange what already exists, mainly converting muscle tissue and moving fat from your waist to your bust, hips and buttocks. You will not develop a vagina without surgical assistance but the beginnings of the split in your scrotum suggests that one did begin to form, the labia being exchanged for a scrotum. Harry, you explain the rest.”

“Right Helen, what it all boils down to is a late reaction to an intersex condition. It’s happened before, as I believe Amy has explained. Your chromosome count confirms this, predominantly XX no XY. You are definitely not male. If you entered a sporting field that required a chromosome test, you would be disqualified if you tried to compete as a male.” He smiled, “Is that female enough for you?”

I smiled, “I always wanted to play netball.”

“Well now you can, keep you fit and slim as well,” said Alice.

“Only one or two points to make,” continued Harry and he looked at Amy, “We don’t think hormone therapy is necessary or advisable, Helen is producing enough of her own. We would suggest that we continue to monitor until mid January if that is convenient and then if it’s what Helen wants, discuss sex reassignment surgery.” He looked back to me, “There is one favour we would like to ask of you.”

“Yes.”

“You will be coming here again in mid-November and December and whilst you are here we would like to make one or two further tests with a view to finding out exactly what happened to cause this dramatic change.”

“Will it involve surgery?”

“No, just scans, blood and tissue samples, measurements that sort of thing, none are invasive.”

I looked at Amy and she nodded, “You are going to be here anyway, and you can always stop it if you wish.”

“Okay you can do that. Will you be able to supply the necessary documents to my solicitor for the alteration of gender markers on my records?”
Alice answered, “I think Amy already has enough in the folder we gave her.”

I looked at all of them, there is one thing I would like, can I see the scan pictures and be shown my bits and pieces.”

Simon laughed, “Why not, they’re your bits and pieces,” he looked a question at Harry and he nodded, “Come over here.” We went behind Harry’s desk and Simon opened a large, A3 folder. “Here we are, the abdominal section,” and then he proceeded to show me what had happened inside me, it was fascinating. “I am sending copies to Amy tomorrow, I’ll stick an extra set in for you.”

We went back and Amy was on her feet, “Anything else you want to ask, Helen.”

“There is one thing,” I looked at Harry, “Am I pregnant?”

Their mouths opened in surprise and Alice asked, “What on earth gave you that idea?”

I grinned at Amy, “My personal physician thinks I’ve been bed hopping, I was just wondering if you can tell me who the father is.”

Simon stopped laughing long enough to say, “When we do that, Helen we will all earn a fortune writing your life story.” And on that happy note, the real Helen Vesta Finch went home to the Café.

20

Paul was waiting for us outside the station and as we came through the exit, he was out of the car and had the rear passenger door open. Amy stood back and ushered me forward and I lowered my head to get in but his hand on my shoulder stopped me, “Helen?”

I straightened and looked at the concern in his eyes, “Paul, I am not pregnant, ask Amy,” and I slid gratefully into the car.

He looked puzzled at first and as Amy got in, she said, “It’s true, Paul, she is definitely not pregnant but she does have some of the equipment.”

“You mean…”

“Helen Vesta is with us to stay.”

He said nothing and went to the driver’s door but before he opened it he smiled at me through the window and then got in and started to drive out of the station forecourt. I leaned forward, “Paul can you take us to a good quality wine merchant.”

“At once Miss Finch.”

He stopped the car on double yellow lines, jumped out opened my door and as I eased out I asked, “Will this be okay, I’ll be about five minutes?”

“Miss Finch, this is a Lexus, I am in uniform and if a parking warden saw you get out and has the temerity to ask me to move on, I shall simply point to my remaining passenger and explain that the Lady Mayoress is unwell and has asked me to stop and you have gone to purchase suitable medication. Furthermore, any parking warden that cops an eye on you will stand rooted to the spot hoping to see you on your return. Please hurry.”

I hurried into the shop as instructed by my chauffeur, “Do you have Krug NV in stock?”

The wine merchant hurried over, “Yes of course and it’s on offer, reduced from ninety three pounds to eighty eight.”

“A case, with a dozen flutes and six half pint glasses.”

“A case, at once madam,” he shouted through a beaded curtain, “Dennis, a case of Krug, twelve flutes, six half pint glasses,” and turned back to me, “I can reduce a full case to nine sixty and the glasses are a gift,” he looked at me hesitantly, “Of course the glasses won’t be crystal.”

“Plain glass will do nicely, would you ask your assistant to take them out to the Lexus and ask my chauffeur to put everything in the boot.” I handed over a credit card.

In less than a minute the assistant went out carrying the champagne and I saw Paul open the boot. The wine merchant handed back my card, “May I ask Madam, why the half pint glasses?”

“Many years ago, a St. James wine merchant told me that champagne, the quality of Krug and being dry should be drunk in the same way as a glass of beer, not sipped. That way the taste buds at the back of the tongue pick up the full dryness, leaving the front of the tongue free to appreciate the fruitiness.”

“Oh, yes indeed. But an expensive glass of beer.”

“When the occasion warrants, such extravagance is permitted.”

“Yes, oh dear me yes and please accept my felicitations, Madam.”

I returned to the car, Paul was closing the boot and ten yards away a parking warden took his time with his ticket machine as he watched me, I smiled at him, “Thank you so much for allowing us a little time,” and I got in and Paul slid away from the kerb.

“What was in that case,” asked Amy.

“Champagne. Krug.”

Amy nearly choked, “A case of Krug!”

“Grande Cuvee NV.”

“Hell, Helen that must have cost a fortune, what are you thinking of?”

“Amy, whatever it cost doesn’t matter, today is my bestest day ever.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“There’s no suppose about it and if you think that was expensive, just wait until I get up to London again and visit Harrods and Harvey Nichols.”

She giggled, “Can I come?”

“Of course, just leave your credit cards at home or Ben will get grumpy.”

“I’ll get some naughty lingerie to go with the dress from the Retro Shop, he’ll forgive me.”

“There’s an Agent Provocateur shop in Pont Street, just around the corner from Harrods. A pair of silk knickers in there costs about the same as a bottle of Krug.”

“I’ll buy a case.”

As we approached the Café, Paul remarked that it looked as if a mass breakout was in progress and when we looked, everybody was outside waiting for us. Paul stopped the car and before he could get out two of the warders had the passenger doors open for us; Paul had to fend for himself.

I got out and Maria was there and threw her arms around me, “Tell me, child, tell me.”

“I am to remain your daughter, Mother.”

She started to cry and I then noticed she appeared taller and when I stepped back a little and looked, she was wearing high heels. “Mother, you’re wearing heels!”

She stifled her sobs and nodded, “May, she tell me I am in concert and must wear heels for stage. Many years since I last wore them and have to practice again and wear all time.”

I laughed, “You’ve got great legs, are you dancing?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously, “Not dancing, just walk about a little.”

And then the others moved in and we kissed and hugged for ten minutes before George started to usher us inside.
Paul and Will came through with the champagne and glasses and asked where we wanted them.

“The common room I suppose,” I answered, “We can always move them into the rehearsal room if we need.”

“And what may those cases be,” asked George, the head warder part of his life surfacing.

“Just some celebration juice.”

“Alcohol?”

“Fruit based drink,” I assured him.

He closed his eyes, “Better not let me see you smuggling alcoholic beverages into here, fruity drink often means wine.” He kept his eyes shut until Paul and Will had passed us and opened them again, “Good, you’ve put them back in the boot. I take it everything went well?”

“Definitely, I am not pregnant.”

“You’re what!”

“Not pregnant.”

He grinned, “That I suppose will be the next cause for celebrating with fruity drinks. And you can tell Will to get his arse back here, he’s still on duty.”

“I promise. We’ll send down some of the fruity drink.”

When Will left with a bottle and three flutes, Maria peered inside the case and looked at me. “Many bottle, you not drink all of this.” And she closed the flaps and turned to Paul, “Please take into kitchen.”

“I’ll have to get back,” he said, “I’d love to stay but the car is going out soon.”

“Can you come back in a couple of hours, Paul? It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Amy came in then with Boris and Adam and Paul turned to Boris, “Is it okay if I get back here after dinner, I’ve been invited to the party?”

Boris looked at me, “I’d be murdered if I said no, Paul. So you had better be here.” Adam came over to me, “See I told you, nothing to worry about.”

Just take me in your arms and kiss me for the next twelve hours I thought but simply said, “Yes. I’m me forever now.”

There was something in his smile, in his eyes and I thought, Oh God, he is going to kiss me but he didn’t, “Am I invited to the party?”

“Yes, definitely yes and you’d better be here, no phone calls, no dashing off or I’ll murder you.”

“I’ll have to get back as well,” said Amy. “Ronnie will be under a bit of pressure by now, even with the locum helping. We’ll try and get back, Helen.”

“No wait a tick,” I went into the kitchen and claimed a bottle of the Krug and three flutes and found a carrier bag. I gave them to Amy, “Just in case you can’t get back, this is for you, Ronnie and the girl in reception. Amy smiled, “Thanks, Ronnie will be out of her box after two glasses of this,” and she left.

If we had any notions of ‘getting out of our boxes’ that evening, Mummy Maria soon dispelled them. Amy and Ronnie both made it to the party and when Boris, Paul and Adam joined us in the common room, the men were served their champagne in the half pint glasses whilst we had to content ourselves with flutes and in mine and April’s case. Mummy Maria made sure our flutes were only two thirds filled.

Mummy Maria it would seem was something of a sexist, the men got looked after and could do more or less what they liked were as we girls were strictly regulated. When Allen appeared an hour later the last of the half pint glasses was brought into use which scotched Maeve’s plan to purloin it for our use.

Maeve made up for it by bringing the disc player in from the rehearsal room and the desks were quickly moved to the side of the room and the dancing began. I had already changed into my poodle skirt and white petticoat and April’s pleading made me agree to letting her have my black skirt and the red petticoat and soon we were boogying and not long after that Allen joined in and he and I jived which stopped Adam and Boris’s conversation and they watched until Maeve changed the tempo and put some big-band ballroom dances on and at last, Adam got to his feet, gently took me from Allen and we danced a waltz and if he had held me closer, I would have been in his pocket. Mummy Maria was watching us through narrowed eyes; me in particular but she did nothing. Maeve changed the disc and a foxtrot came on so we smooched, me with Adam, Diane with Boris, Barbara with Paul and April with Allen. Maeve was on the point of going down to reception to steal a warder for herself when Mummy made her move; the foxtrot stopped and was replaced with a quickstep just at the point where Adam’s hand had slid down my back and was resting at the top of my bum and I, after finishing two flutes of champagne, quickly worked out that if I suddenly stood on tip-toe, Adam would have my lips close to his and his hand resting on my buttocks. When the quick step ruined my chance I glared daggers at Maria but she just waved a finger at me.
Adam smiled a little ruefully but kept my hand in his as we returned to our seats and the moment Maria had turned her back, he went to the table with the drinks and returned minutes later with a third champagne and this time the flute was filled and the bubbles tickled my nose which made the champagne taste all the better, or it may have been that Adam had brought it to me.

The third drink set me off though and April and I started giggling. At one point I started to get up then I lost my equilibrium and fell back into my armchair which made my skirt and petticoat fly back showing a healthy length of leg but once again, before I could wriggle it further back, Mummy Maria, moved like a whippet and my skirt was returned to a more lady-like, over the knee position. “No more champagne, now you eat snack,” and before I knew it, a plate of petit fours, cocktail sausages and small pieces of celery was in my hands.

“Mummy, petit fours and sausages are fattening.”

“Safer you get fat this way.”

“It’s for my boobies,” I explained to April and that set us off again.

May came in from the kitchen with a tray of party goodies and looked in my direction and nodded with a satisfied smile on her face and then I realised that the hatch had been open the whole time and she had been acting as Maria’s spy and tipping her off from time to time.
Maeve managed to get the Last Waltz onto the player and I was once again in Adam’s arms but with two sets of eyes making it painfully obvious that my every move was being watched I had to satisfy myself with just being in his arms and not in his pocket.
Shortly after, May announced it was ten-o-clock and time we got to our beds otherwise we would be in no condition for an early start for the photo shoot.
Adam, Allen, Paul and May went with the driver and Boris, who had restricted himself to one glass of champagne, was able to get us to our rooms. Even Barbara was somewhat miffed, she was hoping for a little time in her room with Paul. Maria, because she too was coming on the photo shoot was sleeping in one of the spare rooms and I remember thinking, just before I fell asleep, that Vesta was shielding me with a view to my becoming one of her Vestal Virgins.

There wasn’t a single hangover in the morning, Maria had risen early and prepared our breakfasts and we were ready for the off by eight thirty. We had decided not to use Paul’s transport services, I would take my Zodiac much to the joy of the other girls and Allen was taking his own car and would have May as a passenger. I had to carry six but the car was designed for that and the two bench seats had room and made it very chummy. Maria of course sat next to me quite determined that her daughter was not going to get up to mischief.

We arrived in Chichester at nine thirty and were going to have our makeovers in two shifts so Maeve, Barbara and Diane went first leaving Maria, April and myself with an hour on our hands. May having given instructions to the beautician about the look she wanted left the others in the care of Pauline from the Music Society who would see that the colours applied to our faces would suit the dresses she had left with the photographer and we went off into the town. I needed new bras now that I was blossoming, April wanted to be let loose in the Retro Shop and Maria wanted to go to Debenhams, so we were going to have to move quickly.

When we got to the retro shop we found Ruth already busy with May wandering up and down the racks making notes. When we left, May had bought a knee length full skirt in white with black polka dots and a white bouffant petticoat for Barbara; April had a yellow poodle skirt with a white swan instead of a poodle and another bouffant petticoat and May added five artificial flower hair clasps and five assorted chiffon neck scarves. Ruth once again offered to take everything over to the car park and leave the purchases in the boot of the Zodiac but we warned her that three more retro chicks would be calling in shortly and they would pick everything up and we left our purchases with her. Maria had another of her mysterious packages, much smaller this time, which she tucked into her shoulder bag, and then it was our turn for curlers and slap as Pauline had described it.
I took the pencil drawing I had made of Maria and showed it to the girl who was doing Maria’s makeover. She studied it and looked at Maria then nodded, “I can match the drawing perfectly, you’ve not exaggerated her look at all.” We sat in our respective chairs and the work for the photo shoot began.

I found out later that whilst I was having my face and hair done, the other three retro chicks had called at Ruth’s and after making their own purchases Ruth took them to the car park and Maeve magically produced my spare car keys and the Zodiac was driven to the studio, taken round the back and through double doors, into the studio.

When we arrived, Pauline and May took us into a dressing room and we were fitted into the dresses from the Music Society. They were made from a soft polyester, full length with flowing skirts and wrap over bodices, V necks and slightly puffed sleeves and once we were dressed and had a chance to look in the mirror, they did look good on us. Allen appeared in a black dinner suit, white ruffled dress shirt and bow tie looking like an operatic James Bond. When we went into the main studio there was the photographer’s assistant checking both film and digital cameras. I wasn’t aware that my Zodiac was present; it was hidden away behind a backdrop. The backdrop was of a moonlit lakeshore and in front of it was a wooden bridge. No time was wasted, May sat at the piano and April began to sing Softly Awakes My Heart and the cameras went into action. I followed with First Time Ever I Saw Your Face then Maeve played a Cello whilst Diane played the violin. Barbara was photographed on the piano whilst she played Beethoven’s Moonlight and then we were put together and hummed a few bars of The Humming Chorus from Butterfly. Allen and April sung The Love Duet and then she and I joined to sing The Flower Duet. The final set of the session was taken of Maria and she did look lovely, the makeup artist had seen the inner beauty that I had when I drew her portrait and pictures were taken of her with a variety of expressions on her face.

We had a short break then and during it, the photographer took me to one side, “The portrait of you in the window, it has created quite a lot of interest. I have had over forty enquiries from customers who would like to purchase it.”

“Me! My picture! Why would anybody want to buy a picture of me?”

“You are beautiful and I was inspired when I took it. There are people who collect portrait photographs.”

“Oh, well I don’t know really, it feels strange to have people who want my portrait, people I don’t know.”

He smiled, “I think it is something you must get used to. One of the enquiries was from a local artist; he wishes to paint you, preferably real life but if not, from the photograph. He told me there is a powerful longing in your face and he wants to capture it in oils and pastels.”

“Nude?”

“No, portraits are his speciality. You would remain dressed but he may wish to suggest clothing. The artist I suspect, if his work is up to his usual standards, would command a high fee and I am sure he would agree to a commission on sales rather than a straight fee. How do you feel about it?”
“I don’t know, it’s an odd feeling, can I think about it?”

“Of course, I will not sell anything until you agree.”

“There is something I need. I picked up my bag and unrolled Maria’s pencil portrait, “Would you mount and frame this for me, I would like it before we leave, can it be done?”

He looked at the picture and nodded, “Who did this?”

“I did. I am a graphic artist by trade,” I waved my hand at the studio, “That’s what all this is about, pictures for a concert programme and posters.”

“It is well done did you not consider going into fine art rather than graphics?”

“I did but I am not gifted enough,” I smiled, “I can sing and dance a little and draw reasonably well but I don’t have the vision an artist needs for fine art.”

He smiled, “I think you should investigate a little deeper but for the moment, my framer is coming in at two, I’ll put him onto this as soon as he arrives and have it ready for three. There will be no charge, Miss Finch; you have brought work to my studio. It is the least I can do.”

“I haven’t paid you yet.”

“Oh it has already been paid for, Miss May has done it.”

Further conversation ended when Miss May clapped her hands, “Back to work everybody, get the dresses off and into your Fifties outfits.” She grinned at us, “We’re off to the hop.”

At that point an engine started and my Zodiac appeared driven by Ruth and slowly edged its way in front of the backdrop, which disappeared up into the ceiling to be replaced with a picture of the front of Benny’s Diner, and the photographer pushed a Wurlitzer jukebox until it was standing beside the Zodiac. A cable appeared and the Wurlitzer was plugged in and it worked and when I went to look it was loaded with seventy-eights.

“Hope you don’t mind?” asked May. “I didn’t make up my mind until the last minute but I want to bring a couple of dance numbers into the concert, Rock and Roll dance numbers.”

“Well, that’ll blend with the Enigma Variations,” I answered, “Corse I don’t mind.”

“Off you go then, poodle skirt and petticoat, shirt blouse, same for you April, Barbara your polka dot, petticoat, tight sweater and wide patent belt. Maeve, Diana, pencil skirts, blouses and bubble gum. And there’s a mixture of neck scarves in the dressing room and in case any of you are not sure how to wear them, there’s a couple of pics. Hurry up,” she patted me on the bum, “Show ‘em how it’s done. I’ll play Rock Around The Clock for you.”

“Who are our partners?”

She laughed, “You’re sharing, wait till you see the Ted that’s turned up.”

In the dressing room petticoats, poodle skirts, blouses and shoes seem to be flying in every direction but from this anarchy five bobby dazzlers emerged, two in pencil skirts and two in poodle skirts with one in polka dots. I was the last to leave having stopped to do my hair into a ponytail and I had my head tilted as I tried to fix an earring in place. I stopped dead in my tracks, lounging up against the Wurlitzer was the epitome of Teddy boys. The drape jacket was plum red with a black velvet collar, the shirt plain and white with a black bootlace tie, black trousers that stopped an inch above the crepe soled brothel creepers to expose a pair of fluorescent green socks. Allen’s hair had been given a washout black dye and was styled into a quiff in front and a good attempt at a DA at the back. He had enough setting gel on his hair to fill the dif on the Zodiac and it shone. Beside him stood two bubble gum chewing bobby soxers in pencil skirts and two other girls half-heartedly jiving to an Elvis number blaring out of the juke box. Allen the Ted casually eyed me up and down as cool as Travolta in Grease, blew a bubble with his gum, which burst without covering his face, something I have never succeeded in doing, eased himself off the Wurlitzer and sauntered up to me, “Wanna jive, Baby?”

“Giving it some thought, you any good? I like it fast.”

“You’ll get it fast, kid.” The next record dropped and the room was filled with Bill Haley and the Comets doing Rock Around The Clock, “Let’s spin it.”
And we spun it. We spun it with a vengeance, Allen was on top of his form and the crepe soles of his shoes gave him grip and the polished hardwood surface of the studio floor enabled me to spin like never before. The best was when he spun me out with his right hand until both our arms were fully extended, then he gave a light pull, lifted our hands and I spun back one and half turns and with my back to him, he dropped my left and took my right and spun me straight out until our other arms were extended then pulled me back and dropped my hand and I free spun in the reverse direction three times and he caught me with his right again, reversed the turn and spun me under arm twice and then the record stopped, I did one half turn and stopped, facing him. He blew another bubble and said, “Fast enough, Babe?” I could never have danced like that with anybody else, we had practised the jive so much I knew exactly where his hand was going to be waiting, and by the slightest signal precisely which turn was coming next.

And then the others started their applause and cheering. May and the photographer were high fiving. The entire dance had been videoed and photographed and when we played it back my skirt had spent nearly the entire time in a blur of white, pink and lace spun out to waist height.
We hugged each other and he spun round holding me off the ground, “If I don’t get a starring part in our next musical after they see that,” he said grinning all over his face, “The Music Society are brain dead, you were sensational.”

He put me back on the ground and I asked, “You weren’t so bad yerself, kid, got one of those bubble gums?”

He gave me one and then grabbed April and Barbara, “I’m so hot I wanna jive with two of you,” and he did whilst Maeve, Diane and I sat on the side of the Zodiac blowing bubbles and hand jiving to Blue Suede Shoes.
There were more pictures taken of us posing around the Zodiac and then we were done. May brought Allen and I together, “I have never seen a better demonstration of the jive, live or on film and I want to use it in the concert.”

Allen looked at me, “Can we do it again?”

“Better, we won’t make any mistakes the next time.”

He grinned and nodded at May, “Okay me and the babe are up for it.”

She looked at me, “I’ll have to make room for it.”

“I know, do you want to drop one of my solos?”

“Not yours, I was going to drop April’s White Cliffs.”

“Not at any price, May, never. You drop one of mine or we stay as we are. I’m sorry to be so adamant, you’re the producer, but I lead in the Enigma, I sing a duet with April; I have this dance and then my solo. You drop one of mine and give the others a chance.”

She looked at me for a while, “The only one I can drop is Little Things Mean A Lot.”

“I know, I really wanted to sing that but not at April or anyone else’s expense I am one of a team, May. We have no stars. Drop Little Things.”

She reached out and stroked my face with her finger tips, “Draws a little, dances a little, sings a little and has a heart that beats pure love. Give up the day job.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll have fun,” I assured her.

“That we will and you,” she looked at Allen, “Drop the gum next time.”

“Aw, May, I don’t have anything else to do, it’s Helen that does the dancing.”

“Then you’d better make sure you don’t miss a step or a catch.”

When she left Pauline came over with Ruth, Pauline looked at Allen, “Wow!” and then at me, “Wow! Wow! Please say you’ll join our Music Society.”

I took one of my shoes off, “Ruth, I need a new pair, I’ve worn these down and they won’t last for a dress rehearsal and the concert.”

She took it from me, “It can be repaired.”

“Well enough for that sort of dancing?”

She looked doubtful, “I can try, if not I’ll order a pair I don’t have any more of this size and colour at present.”

Allen took the shoe from her, “We can get this repaired in the Prison workshop.”

Ruth looked pained, “Allen they are heels not a pair of boots.”

Allen looked at me, “Trust me, Helen, the prison workshop has a shoemaking class and if a prisoner is not up to it I can get the instructor to do it, he was a master shoemaker, built them for the stars and the elite before he retired, he’d love to do the job. I’ll lay money the repaired shoe will be better than the original and he’ll fix the steel tip on the heel so you can spin a little easier.”

“Okay but Ruth, get another pair anyway in case a heel breaks on the night.”

“One favour,” asked Ruth. “Can I have some of those pics for my shop, the shoes and clothes were nearly all mine.”

“I’ll ask May to include a mention in the programme, How about Clothes and Shoes by Ruth’s Retro Shop.”

“Yes, that would be great, I’ve asked May to let me have advertising space as well.”

As soon as she left Maria took me to one side, “Two Spirit Daughter is beautiful dancer.”

“Thank you, Mummy but some of the credit goes to Allen.”

“Yes but you are the one that made the dance.” She smiled, “But very saucy, will make man interested in you.”

“Saucy?”

“Skirt flew high, daughter show everything.”

I flew over to the digital camera and went through the shots, Oh my God, Maria had seen what I failed to notice. The skirt was horizontal and my legs were exposed from toe tip to waist. It was all there, stocking tops and knickers. I couldn’t let them be released. “I’ll get them deleted,” I said to Maria, “I won’t have a secret left.”

“You leave them,” said Maria and May together.

“Good for getting men interested,” Maria added.

“And it’ll pack ‘em in.” said May, “Nothing in the shot that will interest The Lord Chamberlain, a bit of knicker and stocking top was mandatory in dance halls in the Fifties.”

“Well okay but don’t let it escape onto You Tube, the right people will get the wrong idea.”

Maria had an odd smile on her face when I went to see the photographer again to collect her portrait. “It is in the boot of your beautiful car and I have this for you,” he handed me a flash drive, “Everything we did this afternoon is included so you can go to work on your programme. I have enjoyed working with you today and Miss May has asked me to bring video and still cameras to the concert so it too can be recorded.”

“And you won’t put anything in the window without asking me first?”

“I am a professional photographer, if I did something like that my reputation would die. Nothing leaves here unless the commissioning person gives permission.” He smiled, “You are a very good dancer, very photogenic…”

“Especially those pictures!”

“I keep my copies on encrypted discs or flash drives; nobody will even be able to look at them if they were stolen.”

“Will you tell the artist I would like to speak to him about the portrait and it’s okay for you to sell the one in the window,” I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at him, “After today’s session what does it matter if a portrait goes viral.”

In the final chapter of Volume 1, Helen goes home to the Café, dances with Adam and buys a nest.

The complete version, volumes 1 to 4 is available on Amazon Kindle.
Murmuring with Starlings will be published for Easter, and hopefully, Footprints In The Sea Vol 5 will be ready for the summer holidays.

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Vesta’s Hearth Chapter 21
By
Frances Penwiddy

Copyright© Frances Penwiddy 2012

Vesta’s Hearth is a work of fiction, the characters and the Café are fictitious and any resemblance to places or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Vesta’s Hearth is not considered suitable reading matter for minors

In the final chapter of Volume 1, Helen goes home to the Café, buys a case of champagne, dances with Adam and buys a nest.

21

I was so alive on the way back, I heard every bird sing, felt every breath of wind, I wanted to fly with every cloud in the autumn sky and I sang and as I sang, so the girls sang with me. I let my ponytail down whilst I guided the Zodiac into bends, pushed it down straights and the car picked up on my mood and hummed its way home.

Adam was waiting to greet us at the Café, “How did the photo shoot go?” he asked.

I blushed “Exciting,” and hurried round to the boot to start unloading.

“Exciting? A photo shoot, I thought it would be tiring.”

“That too,” I grabbed the box containing the prints and lifted Maria’s picture and still blushing furiously I said, “Be back in a sec, I want to hide this portrait, it’s a surprise.”

“Oh right, I’ll help.”

“I’m okay but the girls have stuff to carry to their rooms,” and I almost ran to the front of the car, grabbed my bag and went through the reception door before he had a chance to ask to look at the prints. Barbara held the door open, “Got the flasher drive safe?”

“Bitch.”

I put the portrait at the top of my bed leaning against the wall where it wouldn’t be sat on, the box of pics went into my wardrobe at the back and the flash drive I hid in a lingerie drawer, right at the back and under my knickers. I checked the mirror, I was still a little flushed, God if Adam saw those pictures of the jive he would either rape me or vanish from my life forever. I ran a quick brush through my hair checked my make-up and finally, feeling calmer I went back to the car. Adam and the girls had unloaded everything and he was closing the boot. “You okay?” he asked, “You seemed hot and flushed when you arrived.”

“I’m fine, it was the excitement of the drive home and I wanted to hide the portrait before Maria saw it.” ‘Oh what webs we weave when first we practice to deceive,’ I thought.

“You look really nice in that dress.”

“It’s a skirt.”

“Don’t care it looks nice and the flushed face went with it really well.” He smiled, “Kidding, did you all have a good time, get the pictures you wanted?”

“Boy-oh-boy did we get pictures,” said April before I had a chance to answer, “And videos.”

“Really?” Adam turned back to me, “You must show me.”

I glared at April who was now my-bestest-ever-enemy. “No time at the moment, I’ve got to start work on the finished layouts for the programme. Later.”

“Yes later,” Maria said firmly, “Daughter is tired and must rest before dinner.”

“Yes of course, I’m sorry Helen, you must think me a bore.”

“Never that,” I said before I could stop myself. “You can’t see the pictures, they’re top secret until the concert.”

“And then they go viral on You Tube,” said Maeve carrying off her shopping and chuckling.

Adam looked at her and then back to me a puzzled expression on his face, “What did she mean?”

I shrugged, “Probably thinks the concert will be a big hit, it’s being filmed.” ‘What was that about weaving webs?’
“I’ll park the car if you’ve finished with it.”

“Thank you, I’ll see you at dinner.”

Maria picked up her bits and pieces and as soon as we were out of earshot I said, “Mummy, book me on the first flight to Australia, anywhere in Australia.”

“Daughter is too shy, Adam will like the pictures and film and you will be irresistible to him.”

“Don’t you start, you said I needed to rest.”

“Too shy, you must make Adam realise you are most desirable woman in world.”

“Not by flashing my underwear, well not until after we are married, then I’ll flash away.”

“Good girl always wait until married but you not be too good, be interesting. Other daughter in Mexico be interesting and show legs. Now important brave, Chief’s son, follow her all time and soon she marry and be a princess.”

Maria pushed my door open with her backside and we placed our bags and parcels on the bed. “I stay at Café tonight and tomorrow go home after lunch, girls prepare dinner. I put these two parcels in my room and help girls with dinner tonight.”

“Leave the parcels here if you wish, they won’t be in the way.”

“No, for daughter’s trousseau, you be tempted to peek so I take them home and put them in your bottom drawer in my home.”

“Mummy, you don’t trust me!”

Maria smiled and went to the door, “Maria might be old now but was daughter once and I would have peeked,” and then she went.

I opened the laptop and retrieved the flash drive and spent a half hour copying the pictures into a password protected file and replaced the flash drive in its hiding place beneath my lavender scented lingerie. At least if anybody pinched it I would know the culprit by his or her scent.

I unpacked the rest of my purchases and put them away and moved Maria’s portrait to the wall next to the door, I was tired and needed my bed for an hour’s rest before dinner and then I would have to get back to work on my programmes. I had all the material I needed and with luck, I would have the programme and posters completed by Friday evening. I had to push along because Saturday we were having our first complete rehearsal of the concert and that meant at least five hours, possibly more if May wished to make any changes. From now until the concert we were going to be working hard and there wouldn’t be very much time for anything else.

After dinner I went straight to work on the programmes, May came in before she went home, “I’m seeing Pauline tomorrow, she’s taking the dresses to the cleaners have you made up your mind what you want to wear for your solo?”

“I thought my white dress would be good. I haven’t worn it yet, it needs pressing.”

“Fetch it and I’ll put it with the other stuff.” She nodded at the drawing board; “Pauline has said she will get the Music Society’s printer to quote us for the programmes. When do you think you will have it ready?

“Early next week unless you change things about.”

“No, I’m keeping it the way it is.”

“If you can ask the printer how he wants the artwork; CD, flash drive or camera ready artwork I’ll have it ready to go.”

“Great,” she picked up the clothes and made for the door, “You okay with the jive in the rock and roll section?”

“Yes, it’ll be fun.”

She nodded, “Right but I think we’ll go easy during rehearsals I don’t want you with a twisted ankle on the big night.”

“Sssh, don’t tempt fate. I’ll walk down with you and give you the dress.”

I went straight back to the artwork after she had left and had finished the roughs for the adverts by the time the girls wandered in from clearing up after dinner. Allen and Adam were with them and they settled themselves in the armchairs and started chatting. Maria joined us soon after and came over to where I was working and watched for a short while until I closed the layout pad, stretched and yawned. All done, everything else can be done on the computer but I’m doing no more tonight.

“You want a bottle of champagne opened?”

“No, mummy, leave them for the party after the concert.” We went over to the others and sat down, I had changed before dinner and was wearing the short skirt and realised that they were definitely not ideal when trying to sit in low armchairs whilst wearing stockings and I had to pull the hem down to cover my stocking tops. Adam I noticed was looking and making no attempt to conceal his inspection. I wriggled a little and achieved my goal but I was going to have to keep perfectly still. I daren’t cross my legs so I sat like a little Miss Prim with my knees tightly together and Maria and the girls were all grinning, which didn’t help. Barbara tried to help by suggesting I get the video of the jive out so we could all watch it again, I hate that bitch.

“What video is this?” asked Adam.

“We had a video made of Helen and I jiving this afternoon,” explained Allen. I hated him as well, in fact if I had a pair of hand grenades I would cheerfully have pulled the pins on both, stuffed one into Barbara’s bra and the other down the front of Allen’s trousers.

Adam must have sensed my discomfort and came to my rescue bless him, “It’s getting late and May asked me to ensure you all had an early night so we’ll have to leave it and I’ll invoke the lights-out rule.”

There was a groan of protest from just about everybody so I decided to cancel the hand grenades and use a tactical nuclear missile instead.
I stood up again, had a fight with the skirt but got the hem down, looked at Adam out of the corner of my eyes, he was looking at my bum now, “Be back in a moment, there’s something I need from my room.”

“The video?” asked Maeve, I gave her the finger and went for the portrait. When I came back I went straight to the drawing board, adjusted it into the upright position and placed the portrait on it, loosened the wrapping so that it needed only to be pulled off and went to Maria, “I have something for you.” I took her hand and led her over to the board, “You need only to pull off the paper to unveil it.”

She lifted the paper and stood looking for quite a while and then said, “Is beautiful, thank you.” She wasn’t crying but when I looked into her eyes I could clearly see my reflection. The portrait was beautiful, the photographer had mounted it in an ornate frame that set of the pencil sketch and made it look like a black and white pastel. “I was going to tint it but the photographer said no.”

“He is right, picture is good, I like it as it is, thank you.” She hugged me and turned to the others, “Come see the beautiful Maria.”

The next morning I was up early and helped Maria with the breakfasts and once we had finished, the girls went off to a lesson in beauty care. I would like to have joined in but I did need to take a turn with the chores so stayed and helped Maria clean the kitchen cupboards and the fridge. When the lesson had finished, they all trouped back for elevenses. Adam had gone for a couple of days and Allen had disappeared into Chichester leaving Boris. He popped his head round the door, looked at the coffee and doughnuts, licked his lips, looked at me with puppy dog eyes and told Barbara that Paul had telephoned him and would she call him. I rose from the table when Boris gave the doughnuts a second look; I gave Barbara my phone and told him I would bring a coffee and doughnut to his office. He beamed at me, “You always were my favourite,” and vanished.

When I came back to the kitchen, Barbara was just finishing her call and said, “Paul wants to talk to you.”

I took the phone and Paul said he was coming to pick me up after lunch and to wear a warm coat it was chilly outside. I put the phone away and looked at Barbara, “Why is he picking me up? He ended the call before I had a chance to ask.”

Barbara shrugged, “Me as well, he’s cleared it with Boris but wouldn’t say what it was other than he had something to show you. He wants me to come and help.”

I frowned, “All very mysterious, help with what?”

Again Barbara shrugged, “It might be a dress or something he thought would suit you and you’d need me to advise you.”

“Men don’t do things like that. Did he say where we were going?”

“No, only that it was a twenty minute drive.”

I looked around the table and then at Maria and all I got were shakes of the head except Diane, she suggested that perhaps Paul had seen the film of the jive and was planning to sell us to white slavers. “It can’t be that, April jived as well.”

“But I was wearing tights not stockings and it isn’t as erotic.”

I was going to throw my last piece of doughnut at her but I was hungry and ate it instead. “I suppose I’ll have to get changed.”

“No need, that skirt and blouse are okay, just wear your chunky knit and raincoat.”

Paul arrived with the Lexus and as we started our mystery tour I asked, “Where are we going?”

“West,” said Paul, “There’s something I think you need but it’s a surprise.”

I looked at Barbara beside me but she shook her head, “Is it another car?” she asked.

“Nope and stop asking, I told you it’s a surprise and we’ll be there in twenty minutes so play I-Spy till we arrive.”

We turned off the main road almost immediately onto a B class road and soon the few houses petered out and there was farmland on both sides and after about ten minutes a row of half a dozen detached two storey houses and then a lane on the left. We drove along the lane for about a half-mile; on the right were detached chalet bungalows, each with large, well-tended front gardens and on the left houses similar to the ones on the B road. We then came to a church and here the soft verges were replaced by pavements. Adjoining the church was a small car park and a pub restaurant on the corner of a narrow lane. Past the lane were a few more houses a service road that ran round behind a tobacconist with a sub post office, a baker, an empty shop then the service road again and beyond that a mini-market and a second pub with a large village green opposite. After the pub was a row of about twelve terraced two-story cottages and the pavement ended to give way to soft verges and fifty yards further on we came to a farmhouse. Paul stopped the car and reversed into the farmyard and turned round and drove back to the pub and stopped. “Like it?”

“Is this what you’ve brought us to see, a village green?” protested Barbara.

“It is very pretty,” I said. “Look at that lane on the other side of the green with all the maple trees their autumn colour is special. What’s up there, Paul?”

“You may not believe if but there’s more than a hundred houses. The lane runs for about a mile and comes to a dead end like this.”

Barbara peered out, “Well it is nice, I’d like to live in a place like this. As we’re here, shall we go into the pub, it’s open?”

“Fraid not, we haven’t time, there’s something else to show Helen.” He started the engine and we returned the way we had come and turned left at the larger of the pubs. Again there were chalet bungalows and then we passed the back of the churchyard and after a short distance came to double gates on the left and Paul stopped again and pointed at a two-storey house behind the gates. It was built of stone well back from the road with a brick drive running to it. The house was side-on to the road and on the gable end nearest us was a double garage. The main door had a small semi-circular terrace one step high and further along was a second entrance.

“The second entrance is to a one-bedroom granny flat. The main house has four bedrooms all upstairs, a large kitchen at the rear with an arch leading into a dining room and a second arch leading into the main reception room which is, about thirty eight feet. There’s a large garden at the rear with a conservatory and behind the garage is a utility room and walk in larder. The front door leads into a hall with double doors into the reception. At the end of the hall a passage leads to second door which opens to the kitchen and a flight of stairs up to the bedrooms and a door to the granny flat. The reception room has full width French windows into the garden and the kitchen has two long windows…”

“Paul, you sound like an estate agent, why the sales pitch?”

“Because my beloved, Helen’s flat is under offer and this is up for sale and has been so for nearly a year with no offers.”

“I couldn’t afford this, Paul. I have the money but it wouldn’t leave me with enough to have as a buffer if my job bombed.”

“How much was the accepted offer on your flat?”

“Two seventy.”

“The asking price for this house is five hundred thousand and the agent tells me they will definitely accept an offer of four seventy five, possibly four fifty and the price includes a great deal of the furniture as well as the usual carpets and curtains. The current owners are moving to be with their family in Australia and are becoming a bit anxious to sell. Helen it’s a bargain.”

I looked again at the house, “Four seventy five for that and my apartment in Chichester is two seventy, it doesn’t add up.”

“It does if you take into consideration that your flat is in one of the best parts of Chichester, is well appointed, has a safe parking area and is about ten minutes from the city centre. This house has no mains gas, though I am told it will be coming in about a year, no fibre optic broadband though that is in hand as well and does get cut off after heavy snow.” He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a sheaf of papers, “Here’s the full spec. Could you afford that, about two hundred and twenty plus the money from the flat?”

“I could afford that, yes,” I sat and thought about it, it was a beautiful house in an ideal setting with a nice village centre ten minutes’ walk away, “Could we arrange to view it. I am tempted, it’s the sort of place I had in mind, well almost except with the granny flat it’s about twice the size.” I didn’t say anything about the feeling I had that the house was calling to me, crying to be bought.

“You could let that out to somebody, a friend perhaps.”

“I’d have to think about that carefully, Barbara. It would certainly have to be somebody I knew well.”

Paul started the car; he had to drive past the property to a small circus where there were four other largish houses before he could turn round and head back. As we passed the house again, I looked at it and the feeling came back – Buy me!

“Let’s have a drink and I’ll telephone the agent,” said Paul when we were at the pub.

We were on the point of leaving the pub and returning to the Café when Paul received a call back from the agent. The owners of the house had invited us to go and view right away as we were in the village.

I viewed the house, it was huge but beautiful and I did as it bade me; I bought it, on the spot. I bought a house and a granny flat a small mixed orchard, a vegetable garden and all the carpets, curtains and furniture. They explained that they had just about given up hope of getting to Australia in time for Christmas and they obviously didn’t want to ship the furniture out. I bought it for four seventy-five and we each agreed to pay the extra legal costs for fast tracking the sale. We phoned the agent and our solicitors and told them to get a move on and unless there were hidden snags I could possibly move in at the end of November. As Paul drove down the drive I looked back and was it fancy or did I hear the house call out. “Thank you.”

Mentally I hugged myself, I was on a wonderful journey, travelling from my new home, which I would fill with happiness and love to my other home, the Café that was already filled with love, happiness and a family.

This is the end of Volume 1, the series continues in ‘Volume 2 The Concert’ or in ‘Vesta’s Hearth, ‘Complete, Volumes 1 to 4’ available on Amazon Kindle.
Murmuring with Starlings will be available for Easter 2017 via Amazon Kindle on Hatbox. I plan to post chapters here as well, beginning next week.
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