Nine Months (Month One)

Kelly is a 36 year-old copywriter working for a top London ad agency, that is until he loses his Job. His wife, Jamie is a struggling actor looking for her big break. They have been trying to get pregnant for years but now, but without the money from Kelly’s job they will have to give up trying.

Jamie, wants them to get away, play at being different people. She orders two body suits, but thanks to their gender-neutral names there’s a mix up. Then an offer comes in from Iceland…

Thanks to Robyn and Chris who gave feedback and support on the earliest drafts.

Month One

It felt strange, my hand inside Jamie’s. Hers seemed so much bigger than mine. I marvelled at how realistic the body suits were. There’s no way I’d have been able to detect the difference between my real and the nano-skin.

Our line drew closer to the check-in. I fidgeted with my fringe, cursing again how much extra work the hair extensions caused. Normally, I’d have insisted we got to the airport early. I loved spending time in the waiting areas, kind of hovering between countries and destinations in a surreal ‘other’ world. This time however I wanted to minimise my time in an open public place.

Jamie released my hand but then put her arm around my middle and pulled me close. I wanted to pull away and admonish her but I was too scared to make a scene.

I flexed my shoulders frustrated at the pull of the bra strap. I stopped when I realised a man in the line for Malaga was staring. Jamie kissed me on the side of my head.

“Hey beautiful,” she jested. “Don’t stress so much.”

I was about to say something but we’d reached the front of the line, the airline employee beamed at us. Jamie looked at her smiling, “She’s a bit of a nervous flyer,” Jamie nodded at me.

I gritted my teeth and smiled. Jamie knew I loved to fly but I let her have her fun. There would be payback later I vowed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you there safe,” the airline employee had a pleasant, melodious Scandinavian accent. I just smiled back hoping this conversation would end soon.

My heart was in my mouth as she scanned our false passports. For a moment she looked from Jamie’s face to mine. Inside my head I was screaming ‘run’ but I held it together. Within a few seconds she handed Jamie both our passports and tickets and we left for the departure lounge.

Jamie patted my arse causing me to jump a little. She whispered in my ear, “Stay calm, we’ve still got passport control to get through.”

I nodded my head, the fear overrode my annoyance at Jamie’s behaviour. I found myself moving closer to her.

When we reached the scanners, I started to panic that the body suits would set them off. Were the nanos made from some sort of metal, or are they plastic? Jamie went first and walked through without setting them off. I relaxed a little. A woman in a brown customs guards uniform motioned for me to come through. I held my breath and began walking.

BEEP, the alarm went off. For a moment I contemplated running again but then I remembered my belt. Sheepishly I took it off and placed it in the items tray. The woman motioned for me to go through again. I had to hold my jeans up. I wished I’d agreed to wear the skinnier pair Jamie suggested that morning.

BEEP, again the alarm went off. My nerves were at stretching point as the guard woman motioned for me to come to her. She made me stand with my arms and legs apart, only the extra padding the body suit provided around my butt and hips kept my trousers up. Then she ran her hand held scanner over my body. There was nothing as she ran it over my legs, then my body and arms. Finally she reached my head and we were looking at each other eye to eye. I could see a mixture of boredom and annoyance in her piggy little eyes.

Her hand held device beeped as it reached, first my left, then my right ear.

“Earrings,” she said, shooting me a look that made me feel seven years old.

“Oh, shit,” I started to take them off, “I am sooooo sorry.”

Of course it was those damned earrings. That morning, Jamie had persuaded me to wear the clip-ons. They had been killing me all the way in the taxi but the fear of being exposed in public had driven them from my mind.

Jamie had a huge shit-eating grin on her/his face as I finally retrieved my flight bag, jacket etc. As I re-fitted my belt Jamie came up behind me and kissed me on the neck making. I felt small against her. Her extra height and our gender-neutral names were the cause of the mix up. The company sent us a male suit for Jamie and a female suit for me. Damn their stupidity. We had already had the passports made up beforehand.

“Hey, come on,” Jamie’s expression was more conciliatory. I saw sympathy in those blue eyes I recognised so well, even if I didn’t recognise the male face they were shining out of.

I couldn’t settle for the whole time we waited. I kept glancing at the Departure board looking for Reykjavik. Eventually Jamie got fed up of my fidgeting and took us to a chain bar. I huffed a little when she bought herself a pint and me a white wine.

“I have to say it’s turning me on,” we sat on two barstools surrounded by harassed looking business people, Jamie leant in and continued to whisper, “knowing that’s you under all that. It really gets me going.”

I sighed; Jamie has always been the experimental type. In retrospect, that’s half the reason we were in this trouble in the first place. She’d wanted us to have a holiday where we pretended to be different people. Given how great the sex could be I agreed.

I was relieved when we finally got to board the plane. The flight attendant smiled at me, as if I was just one of the girls. I noticed the approving look she gave Jamie as she followed behind me.

The aeroplane was mostly empty, it having been an early flight in the middle of the week, so we had space to spread out a little. I was used to travelling on the cheapest airlines with little leg or arm room. It was a luxury I didn’t get much time to appreciate as the quiet only brought back the strangeness of the body I was in and weirdness of my clothes. The strange weight on my chest and the pulling of the bra, the odd way my jeans sat on my enhanced hips.

As the plane took off I felt panic rising, what were we doing? We we’re sure to be caught. I hadn’t been thinking straight, not since this all began.

---

It did not begin auspiciously, to say the least.

I was a copywriter for one of the big London ad agencies. It paid the bills. At one point, I loved what I did, the ability to be creative and see your work on television. As time went on, I liked it less and less. I was 36 which, in ad years, may as well have been dead. Copywriting is a young person’s game is the way they saw it. You start on adverts for clothes, then they move you to cars and then, as you age, they move you to banks then mobility scooters, chair lifts and pension plans.

Someone has to advertise on Law and Order, I suppose. Either way, I was rapidly becoming more and more miserable. What made it more so was that I had no way out. Jamie was an actress. She would work occasionally, which meant that I needed to do so to pay for our lives. She had her dream and, however remote it seemed, I wouldn’t take that from her. One of us should be able to do it, I thought.

The agency’s office was an open plan. There were no partitions, except for the higher ups and even their offices had glass walls. It was designed to encourage creativity, by making everyone open to everyone else. It worked sometimes, but I found that it mostly exposed me to the prattling on of whomever was sitting near me.

I was sitting at my desk, pondering an advert for mortgages (“And there’s a couple walking along the Costa Del Sol and they see a cottage for sale….”), when Jeremy, my boss, came over. “Up for coffee, Kelly?” he said, with a somber look on his face.

“Sure,” I said, uncertainly. There was a coffee bar in the corner of the office, along with a snooker table and an Xbox. More things to encourage creativity - and keep you in the office.

I started walking towards the bar, when Jeremy said, “Why don’t we go downstairs to the Starbucks?”

I was nervous now. I had worked with Jeremy at a series of agencies over the years. He moved up the ladder to the point where he was now a creative director. I had been as high as senior copywriter which, if I were being honest, was more a function of years of service than any love for my work. I was good at what I did, but I had achieved my level. Jeremy and I would go to lunch every so often but, since they installed the coffee bar, hadn’t left for coffee. That he was asking me to go left me concerned.

We went down to the Starbucks. Jeremy looked around and, once he determined that no one was there, pulled out a sheaf of papers from his pocket. “Logan’s Run mean anything to you, Kelly?”

My jaw dropped. I had been writing a blog entitled “Logan’s Run - The Only Thing You Can’t Have in the Ad World is the Total Pleasure of Your 40th Birthday.” It was my ramblings about the ad world, mostly comments on various campaigns. Lately, as I began to feel the rumblings of the millennials behind me, the blog had, charitably, become angrier.

“I saw the best minds of my generation pushed over the cliff on chair lifts and scooters,” he flipped pages, “angel headed hipsters mocking them on Twitter and Snapchat. Well, Kelly, it’s derivative but a lot better than the shite you’ve been doing lately,” he said, with a laugh. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Erm, um, erm,” I stammered. “How did you find it?”

He took off his titanium framed glasses and twirled them around. Jeremy was forever chasing the latest trends. He shopped at the sort of clothes shops in Shoreditch and Hoxton that have a logo instead of a name. I’d once heard a rumour that a junior copywriter spotted him in Top Man. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I keep up on the blogs, Kell. It’s part of the job. You might consider it.

“How did you figure it was me?” I said, sloshing my coffee around in the cup and not looking him in the eye.

“Well, there’s not a whole lot of senior copywriters your age, for a start,” he said, with a subtle dig. “Sorry, that was cruel. How long have we known each other, fifteen years? You have a distinctive voice. Also, you made a comment about B&Q , and some millena-twat there caught it.” Millena-twat was our chosen name for the twenty-somethings whose footsteps were rapidly overtaking ours. “He told some higher-up, the brown-nosing little shit, and they called over, nosing about.”

“Does anyone else know?” I asked, dreading yet knowing the answer.

“Just Mark,” he sighed. Mark was Jeremy’s boss, the senior creative director.

“Oh good god,” I moaned. “How screwed am I?”

“Mark likes you, Kelly. This can blow over in a few months’ time but you have to help us.”

“How can I do that?” I could feel the acid building in my stomach. I dreaded what could come next. Public humiliation? Seppuku?

“Take a leave of absence, an unpaid leave of absence. Give us some bollocks about how you’ve decided to follow your muse,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “I know you’ve got a novel in your desk, everyone does. Jamie chewed my ear off about it the last time we had the two of you around. A few months time and it’ll blow over.”

“Um, you said unpaid…” I had savings, but we had plans for those. Plans that didn’t include me getting fired, however it was framed.

“Look, Kelly. We have two choices here. You trust me and resign. Or I’m going to have to fire you. You know how big our billings for the old and feeble are,” he said, with a laugh. “They won’t just die already so we have to cash in. We’ll get through this, but you need to lay low for a while. Even if I fire you, every agency’s going to figure it was you and you’ll be dead in the industry.”

“I get that...shit, Jamie! What the hell do I do about her?”

“Mate,” Jeremy said. “You are fucked. Use those writing skills you have to try and un-fuck yourself as best as possible. But you are fucked. By the way, the blog is quite good. You just have to be careful next time.”

I went upstairs and tendered my resignation. As I left, everyone wished me well but I could see in the twenty-somethings’ faces the idea that they would never be me, that they had it all figured out. Good luck, I thought. Then, any suggestions?

I went home on the Tube, trying to figure out how I would explain this to Jamie. She had always told me how she knew I could write a great novel if only I had time. Maybe, she’d see this as a good thing.

She did not.

“A blog?” She screamed, flailing at my chest with her fists. “You risked our life for a bloody BLOG? Are you really that fucking stupid, Kelly?”

“I, er, uh, erm, I didn’t think anyone would see it,” I mumbled. “There are how many thousands of blogs? What were the odds that anyone would read it?”

“You are an absolute idiot. First, you work in an industry - OF WORDS. OF TRENDS. You’re not a bloody insurance agent. You write - for a living. You wrote a blog - about your industry. Not football or twitching or your love of Corry. Of course, the people - IN YOUR INDUSTRY - would see it.” To be clear, I was not a twitcher and Coronation Street bored me to tears. It was not, however, especially relevant to the discussion we were having and discretion being the better part of valour, I kept my mouth shut. Then she softened, ever so slightly. “You are a good writer, people were going to discover it.” Then she went back to livid. “You are a selfish prick. You couldn’t do what normal people do when they hate their job. You couldn’t go to the pub. You couldn’t keep a journal. You couldn’t come home and talk to YOUR WIFE. No, you had to put it up for the world to see. Well, now as a result of your abject stupidity, our life is on hold.”

“Jeremy said this would blow over in a few months’ time and he should be able to hire me back…and we have enough to live. Anyway, I thought I’d ask Fiona, she might know of...”

I knew immediately that I’d said the wrong thing.

'"Of course," she sneered. "Maybe Fi," and she spat my nickname for Fiona, "can help. Since bloody Uni..." She looked at me with a look of pure anger, pure hatred almost. “Enough to live? We were saving that to pay for the next cycle,” of in vitro fertilization. We had been trying for years to have a child with no success. Jamie really wanted a child and the NHS would only pay for three cycles. I knew that the likelihood of success after three tries was minimal but would have paid any amount and gone through it any number of times to make Jamie happy, to have a child. “IF he gives you your job back, you know how long it will take us to save that again. And I’m 39 years old. Every month I wait is,” and she began to cry. Then she ran into our bedroom and slammed the door.

“Jamie,” I pleaded feebly, through the door, but I was at a loss for words. How do you explain to the woman you loved that you killed her dream for what? To show everyone how clever you could be?

The next few days were hell. We barely spoke, she only to tell me that she was “going out.” I slept on the sofa and we ate no meals together. I tried to sell anything and everything I had that was worth money so that we’d have enough for the next cycle. What I found was that, like my life at the present time, my personal possessions were worthless.

After a week, I came home to find Jamie opening a box, with a big grin on her face. “May I ask what’s making you so happy,” I said uncertainly.

She held what appeared to be an odd looking bodysuit. “Here this is yours,” she said. It reminded me of the dried snake skins I used to find down the beach in summer. The material was so thin it almost wasn’t there.

“What is it?” I said, turning it this way and that.

“It’s a nano suit,” she said, pulling another out of the box. It looked bigger than mine, but to be honest, I wasn’t entirely conversant with how they worked. Like everyone, I had seen them on the news and had watched how the reporters would change into someone else but it always struck me as a silly story. “Basically, the nano-technology fuses into your skin and let’s you be someone else. I figured that so long as we have three months free,” she said, glaring at me, “we could go on holiday, somewhere nobody knows us, and pretend to be someone else.”

“Why do we need to be someone else?” I asked.

“Because,” she said, her expression more sad than angry. “I want to be. The current situation isn’t exactly making me happy.” Then she smiled sweetly and put her arms around me. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”

Her smile made me melt. It always had and, in the past week, I wondered if I’d ever see it again. I would do anything to see that smile, even put on a ridiculous nanosuit. I was going to ask her how much these cost, but held back. I was in no position to question spending, especially if it made her happy. “So, who are we?” I joked. “Am I Olivier Geroud?” I was an Arsenal fan and, while Jamie generally didn’t care, she made an exception for Olivier Geroud.

She laughed, “Not quite. Let’s give them a try.” We put on the suits and I could feel a tingling all over. It felt cool to the touch, like someone had smothered me in shaving gel. I saw my hands and feet suddenly shrink and a weight on my chest. I remember seeing a documentary on BBC 4 that explained how the suits displaced weight and height. Despite having sat through the whole thing, I could not explain a word of it to another person. I’d need Brian Cox to sit down and show it to me again, this time with idiot boards. “What the hell is going on?” I squeaked, my voice having gone up several octaves. I looked over at Jamie and she was suddenly taller and muscular. And male. All that was left of Jamie was her eyes. “Seriously, Jamie, what the hell is going on?”

She began rifling through the box. “Fuck! Fuckity, fuck!” she yelled, although I would’ve sworn she stifled a laugh. She read the manifest intently. “They screwed up the suits. They made yours female and mine male.”

“Well, do something,” I shrieked. I walked over to the mirror. My eyes were mine but I appeared to be approximately 25 years old. And 5’4” and a little less than 9 stone. Oh, and female. Most definitely female. Jamie couldn’t resist a smile. “I suppose this is amusing.”

“Oh, come on, Kelly,” she said. “We’ll get this sorted straight away. Just relax and enjoy it,” she said, putting her now large hands on my shoulders. “You have to admit it’s a little funny,” she said, kissing me on the neck.

I couldn’t hold back a smile. “I don’t have to admit anything,” I said. “Call them and figure this out.” She showed me the manifest. There was no phone number, only e-mail. Of course, I thought, it’s a bloody tech company. Why would they have a phone?

“Can we at least take these damn things off?” I moved my hands over my new skin trying to find a seam.

“Careful,” I saw she was looking where I put my hands, “You’re making me horny.”

I immediately dropped my hands to my sides. I watched as she picked up the instruction leaflet.

“Shit!”

“What!” My nerves couldn’t take much more of this.

Jamie read from the leaflet, “The bodysuit takes five days to uncouple from the wearer’s own skin.”

“Five days!”

“They really should have made that clear. There needs to be a warning notice on the packs themselves,” she said, surprisingly calmly.

“It can’t take five whole days!” I was pacing backwards and forwards.

“Not just five days,” she continued to read, “Uncoupling can’t start until at least four days after the suit is first put on.”

“Nine days!” I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate, “I can’t wait that long!”

Jamie put her hand on my back and led me to the sofa, “Take long deep breaths honey.”

I sat down next to her, I could feel my body shaking, “Get it of me!”

“Sweetheart, the nanos have attached themselves directly to our skin and nerves. If we tried to take them off now it’d be like pulling our own skin off.”

I shuddered. My vision was blurred by tears.

“We’ll make the best of this,” she said. Her hand squeezing mine. “Haven’t you ever wondered what life was like on the other side of the fence?” I had, although I wouldn’t admit that to her, not now. “Besides, think of how hilarious it could be.” She took out her IPhone and pulled me closer to her.

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

“Sending a selfie to Siggy and Egon. Those guys will flip!”

“Hey, no!” But it was too late, she was already sending the email.

“It’s only Siggy and Egon. I’ll tell them not to share.”

I spent the rest of the day and evening pestering her to check her email. We drank some wine, a lot of wine, and Jamie tried to get me to come to bed. She wanted to try out the new suits. I was tempted, it felt like it had been ages, but the idea terrified me. In the end we compromised on snuggling in our new suits but going no further.

I woke up around 2am that night. We were lying in the spooning position. It felt odd to be the little spoon. I lay there for a while wondering how my life got here?

“Have you checked your emails yet?” I asked for the tenth time that day. We’d been wearing the suits for three days now. Twenty four more hours before we could even begin the process of taking them off. It was stranger than I could explain to go to the bathroom mirror and see a different face. A twenty something woman at that.

It wasn’t all bad. My agreeing to her dress up games seemed to have a positive effect on Jamie. She hadn’t mentioned my job woes since the body suits arrived. Even still I was keen to get back to a male body, even if it was a different suit. The day before I had spied Jamie going through her underwear drawer. While I would have been happy to see some of the items she kept in there again, I wouldn’t have been happy to see them on me.

“Wow!”

I ran over. “Did they respond?” I looked at her email and saw nothing with the company’s name, just an email from Egon. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” she said, enveloping me in a hug. It felt bizarre to have her huge hands wrap around my tiny waist, “is that Egon just offered me a role on a new film, a thriller. They just sacked some actor for being an arsehole and they want me to fill in.” This was the break she had worked for for years. I was so excited that I didn’t notice that she said ‘actor.’ “And look at the pay!” I stared at the screen, it was my pay and then some. We could more than cover the cost of the next cycle and whatever these suits cost.

“How long is filming?” I chirped. Her enthusiasm was infectious.

“Three months,” she said. “Just think, we can go to Iceland. I get my break and you can actually finish your novel. You’ve supported me for years, let me do the same for you. You can spend three months just writing and finally finish your book.” She always knew the right thing to say. “The whole mix up with the suits is turning out to be a god send.”

“Wait, what?”

“Egon saw the picture of us in the body suits. He’s cast the male me. I’m in the main cast and everything!”

“So you are going to be there as a boy?”

“Plenty of actors do it. Have you ever wondered how some airhead catalogue model can suddenly put in an Oscar nominated performance in some low budget indie flick?”

I knew what she was talking about, “But won’t it seem strange two guys hanging out. I’m not trying to be homophobic. I’m just not gay.”

“I know that, silly. You could come as a girl. My wife.” She grinned. I’d seen that grin before. It meant she had considered all the angles and knew I’d have to give her what she wanted eventually.

“But why do I need to be a girl?” I had groaned. “Do I have to stay like this the whole time?”

“We’ll see,” she said, with a smile. “But this is Hollywood, a thriller. They like things normal over there, the prudes.” I couldn’t figure out why this was normal but I was so happy to have Jamie back that I didn’t listen.

---

In flight, I suddenly felt nauseous and ran to the bathroom and threw up my lunch.

“What’s up,” Jamie said, looking concerned as I returned to my seat, “are you getting a temperature again?”

My health had been up and down since putting the damn suit on.

The flight passed quietly after that. I calmed myself by looking out the window. Like I said before I like to fly. I watched as we passed over Britain. The green fields and dark hills looked like a patchwork quilt, or maybe a watercolour painting seen from above.

Jamie busied herself learning a few words in her Icelandic phrasebook. “Hvernig segir maður ‘whisky’ á íslensku?” she tried out on the flight attendant as she passed. She laughed and leant over to look at Jamie’s phrasebook correcting her on pronunciation. I didn’t like how close she was leaning into Jamie. She must have noticed my look as she pulled back quickly.

“Two whiskies?” she asked us.

“One for me and a gin and tonic for Kelly,” Jamie answered for both of us. Once she had left Jamie turned to me, “Is that OK?”

“Fine,” I say. I didn’t love Jamie’s insistence that she ordered everything for me. On the other hand I was happier not having to communicate with too many people. I turned back to the window. We had passed over Britain and Ireland by then and below was the dark blue of the North Atlantic. The ocean looked calm and deep and seemed to stretch on forever.

The land around Keflavík International Airport looked like the surface of the moon. We caught a glimpse of it as we headed inside. Reykjavik passport control wasn’t half as scary as Heathrow’s. We were waved inside pretty quickly. The temperature was much lower than in London so we added extra layers while we were waiting at luggage retrieval. I pulled on one of the woollen jumpers I had taken from Jamie’s ‘girl’ wardrobe before we left. After that I put on the yellow cagoule I bought from GAP a couple of days ago. Finally I pulled on the woollen hat Jamie bought me the Christmas we spent in Scotland. Jamie smiled and readjusted the hat on my head. I guess it was crooked.

Sigrun, or ‘Siggy’ as we knew her was waiting for us on the other side of the gate. Jamie waved at her friend who took a while to realise it was us. I guess she wasn’t used to seeing us with these faces.

“My god!” Siggy exclaimed, “Is that really you two?” She was laughing, but not in an unfriendly way. Jamie was laughing too; she expanded her arms and embraced the Icelandic girl.

“Hey,” she turned to me, “Welcome to my team!” She tried to greet me by kissing me on each cheek. I pulled back, not used to such a feminine welcome and we ended in a sort of half hug. All three of us laughed a little awkwardly.

My head was swimming and not just because of the situation. We had set off from ours at about half two in the morning in order to catch the six am flight. It felt like I’d been awake for two days and it was still only the morning rush hour in Reykjavik.

Jamie sat in the front passenger seat while I took the back seat. I was glad of the opportunity to stretch my legs and rest my eyes. Siggy chatted excitedly, telling us how well the filming was going.

Her partner Egon was the assistant director and had been in Iceland shooting scenery for a couple of weeks now.

Siggy was clearly happy to be back working in her homeland. She kept turning her head back to me, telling me how much I'd love Reykjavik and how we could go exploring while the 'boys' were filming. I smiled weakly at her. I knew she was trying to use humour to make me feel included but it still smarted.

"I'm thinking of writing a story set in Iceland, set around the banking crash here." I said vaguely.

"Sounds interesting," Siggy replied. To be honest, I was not that sure of the subject myself. But I finally had a chance to write. Normally I had to set my alarm for 5am and get up early to write. With everything that had been happening, work, trying to get pregnant I hadn’t risen early in long time.

The lunar landscape around the airport changed into something more recognisably Earth-like. In fact it looked like it could be Scotland or somewhere. The outskirts of Reykjavik had a slightly American feel, probably a by-product of the city having been a strategic NATO base during the Cold War.

Despite it having been April the houses were dusted by a little snow turning the town into a Christmas card scene.

"We are just coming out of the winter," Siggy explained, "the Icelanders are waking up from hibernation," she added mysteriously.

We pulled into the driveway of a small but pretty house somewhere near the city centre. From the car the house looked very Scandinavian, painted red and made out of wood. It was only when I got out that I could see the house was clad in corrugated iron, not wood. Maybe wood doesn't survive long in this climate, or is it that corrugated iron is cheaper to ship out here?

The inside of the house was warm and inviting. Siggy and Egon had made the space their own with framed drawings and paintings on the yellow walls. I went up to one for a closer look. It was a charcoal drawing of Siggy when she was younger, maybe between eighteen to twenty. I remembered Egon telling me her parents were arty types - I wondered if one of them drew it?

She gave us the tour. I was aware of Jamie asking her lots of questions. Siggy showed us the bathroom, which was small but cute, with a ceramic mosaic of a blue fish on the wall of the bath/shower.

"We have an en-suite in our bedroom so this bathroom is all yours," she smiled. It seemed like a good deal.

"Here's your room," she showed us the spare room. It had a large double bed and a wardrobe but not much more space. We dumped our bags next to the bed.

Siggy told us Egon would be back around four-ish and suggested we all go out for a meal and drinks. We could rest until then. Jamie, I could tell was too excited to sleep but I was completely wacked. I’d been surviving on adrenaline and caffeine since I’d agreed to this. Everything had happened so fast, Jamie getting the offer for a supporting part in Egon's film, finding someone who could get us the false passports. My head was still spinning. I told Jamie she should go out exploring but that I need to sleep.

I don't even remember getting into bed but when I woke up a couple hours later I was under the sheets wearing Jamie's old t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. I noticed the pyjama bottoms were a little too big for me as I headed to the toilet. The house was completely silent. There was none of the background noise you became used to in London.

I tiptoed around being nosey. There were full bookshelves in every room and books filled up all the flat surfaces like window ledges and coffee tables. I picked up a few, most were in German or English with the odd one in a Scandinavian language. It was hard not to like a couple who owned so many books. One book, in German, looked like it was about fertility treatments. I wondered if they were struggling to have a baby like us? Eventually tiredness caught up with me again and I headed back to bed. As my eyelids grew heavy, I wondered what Jamie and Siggy were up to?

"You should wear the dress," Jamie tried to persuade me. She was lying back on the bed watching my indecision. It was funny to see her in such a masculine pose, her legs stretched out. She kept changing her position and fidgeting with her trousers; getting used to having something extra down there was my guess.

"I'm not sure," I said, holding the burgundy A-line dress up against me trying to imagine what wearing it in public would be like. It wasn’t too tight or revealing, I supposed.

"Come on, we agreed to make the most of this. It’ll be good for your writing to experience a few things from a female perspective." Jamie's voice sounded a little annoyed. She had been grouchy since her nap.

"I know, but..." my voice trailed off as I thought about spending time with people who had no idea who I was underneath the suit. Egon and Siggy knew of course, but we were also going to be joined by the director, Angela and her partner Karen who were none the wiser.

"Go on," Jamie had crept up behind me and put her hands on my now tiny waist, "wear it for me." She kissed me on the back of my neck. The nanos in the fake skin transferred the sensations through to my real body.

I gave in and let her dress me. Even after two or three days, I was still not used to women’s clothes. Men’s clothes are, by and large, designed to be forgotten about by the wearer. Women’s clothing on the other hand pull and confine you. Perhaps you get used to it after a while, but I doubted it. Most of all I was doubtful I’d ever get used to the oddness of only seeing flatness down the front of my panties.

I regretted choosing an A-line dress as we walked to the Grillmarkadurinn. The cold air swirled up and around my knickers. The nano-skin offered my hidden privates little extra warmth. Was it possible I could feel the cold even more in the body suit? I knew the nanos conveyed sensation from the fake to my real skin. At least the big coat Siggy had lent me kept my upper body warm and my woolly hat protected my ears.

Angela and Karen were already at the table when we arrived. Angela was tall, blond and very German looking. Next to her Karen looked like a little pixie or elf with her short hair and delicate features. The restaurant was smart and stylish. Apart from the low stone wall that ran along the middle, looking like something from the Viking age, we could be in West London. I doubted we could have afforded it here if the production company wasn't picking up the tab.

Angela, Egon and Jamie were quickly caught up in a discussion about the film. Angela had notes on Jamie's character. At first I was confused when she called her 'James'; it took a moment for me to realise my mistake.

Siggy and Karen brought me into their conversation. Siggy wanted to show us both the bars along Hverfigata. According to her these were the best places to hang out in.

"In the old times Hverfigata was the road the women used to take the laundry down to be washed at one of the hot springs," Karen told us, showing off the local knowledge she had picked up in the last few weeks. Karen's accent was upper-class English. She fidgeted a lot, often touching her face with her hands making it hard to follow what she was saying sometimes.

Angela was the opposite. She was loud, very German and self-assured. Talking to the whole table as waiters served the starters she explained the plot of her movie. Set in the future, it was the tale of an advance party sent to a new planet marked for colonisation. When people start going missing the crew blame the native creatures but eventually it turns out that it is the humans who are the deadliest animals.

Karen, Siggy and I sipped our drinks as the other three talked excitedly about the different aspects of the film. I thought Jamie was overdoing it as she gushed about the 'psychological intensity' of the script. Angela assured 'James' he would meet the writer at the first read through tomorrow.

As we consumed the food and the wine an easy bonhomie descended over the group. My tiredness combined with the excitement of being somewhere new and meeting new people. It left me with a happy fuzzy feeling and looking at Jamie I could see she felt the same.

Conversation turned to the actor Jamie would be replacing. There was a general consensus that he was a total bastard, and from what I could tell had made an arse of himself around the female cast and crew.

"Not something we have to worry about with you my dear," Angela said to Jamie. Jamie looked a little hurt and there was an uneasy laughter around the table. Sensing she had said something wrong Angela added, "Not when you have the lovely Kelly," she gestured at me. I felt myself blush red under the intensity of her gaze.

After food we headed to a bar called the Slippbarinn, which was attached to the Hotel Marina, where Angela and Karen were staying. To me, the bar looked a little like an Ikea showroom, but perhaps I was being prejudiced. Angela showed her largesse by ordering a round of cocktails for us all. I missed the name of what she's ordered but the drink when it arrived was bright blue. It tasted to me like cough syrup mixed with lots of sugar. My head was spinning after only a few sips. Perhaps it was the tiredness.

"Same again?" Jamie asked heading to the bar, leaving before I had time to protest. I just shrugged – she was the one with the read through the next day. I could stay in bed.

I continued chatting with Siggy and Karen about the places we could go and see. Karen seemed excited about a river heated by a volcanic spring you could bathe in. Much better than the Blue Lagoon, which Siggy thought was too touristy.

When Jamie returned I saw she had bought herself a whisky old fashioned. I smiled as I knew she would have brought it as an aid to getting into character. I was always impressed by the way she would completely immerse herself in her roles.

It was a little past 1 am when we decided to call it a night. Late by my body clock, but early doors as far as the Reykjavik natives are concerned. The alcohol kept me warm on the walk home. I was very glad I hadn't let Jamie persuade me to wear heels and stuck to my converse. I still had to take her hand and lean on her a little anyhow.

Alone in our room Jamie pulled me close, "Want to try out our bodies?" she whispered.

I bit my lip; I had been trying to put off this moment. Jamie went to switch of the lamp leaving the room bathed only in light from the full moon. Her hot mouth was pressed against mine. I wanted to protest but my whole body was tingling. What could be the harm? I thought as she pulled the dress over my head. I stood there in my underwear. I crossed my legs nervously as her eyes looked me up and down. My skin looked silver in the moonlight.

She stood there looking at me for a moment. I felt uneasy, was she going to ask me to cover up again? Perhaps she was repulsed by lack of masculinity? I needn't have worried, she gently pushed me on to the bed. I lay there as she slowly undressed. I felt a warmth spreading from down below. It was something I haven't felt before. The nanos sent waves of pleasure to my trapped penis.

Jamie climbed onto the bed, her enhanced arms easily holding her above me. I felt an odd tingle of pleasure at the thought that she would crush me if they gave out. She took her time with the foreplay. She knew a lot more about my new body than I did. When eventually she pushed inside me, it was a revelation. Like something had exploded in my head, but in a good way.

Afterwards we lay there in the half light, Jamie's arm around me. I wondered about the mess it all caused. Had they really gone to the trouble of creating fake sperm? As I listened to Jamie gently snoring I wondered, will she have to buy top up packs?

When I woke next morning Jamie had already left for her read through. She had left behind a little note saying she didn't want to wake me and thanking me for last night. It was funny to see her feminine handwriting after what we had got up to last night.

Heading downstairs Siggy greeted me with a smile, "There’s coffee in the pot." She was wearing a Japanese style silk dressing gown and cradling a cup of strong looking coffee.

"Thanks," I grunted. As I poured my coffee, she watched me closely.

"Sounds like the two of you had fun last night." Her voice was even and calm, not giving anything away. I nearly dropped my coffee.

"Oh, god. Were we that noisy?" I stuttered desperately trying to think of an excuse.

"You English," she laughed gently, "always apologising".

She came close and gave me a little cuddle. "I am glad you have become a full woman now. Think what fun we girls can have!" she squeezed me then left. I am left pondering what being a 'full woman' now means.

"You seem distracted," Siggy brought me back into the room. "Missing James already?"

I guess I was. I noticed she had begun referring to Jamie as James ever since the our second morning in Iceland. We had been in Reykjavik two weeks now and that morning Jamie and the others had headed north to begin filming. I had been feeling low, probably due to being cut off from London and my life. As most of the people I spoke to on a daily basis had been linked to work Jamie was my last link. Plus her good mood, with the preparations for the filming going so well, had helped keep me buoyed up.

It hadn't helping that my boobs had started feeling sore. I wondered if it had anything to do with what Jamie and I got up to the night before? I did remember Jamie grabbing them quite forcefully. While I was still uncomfortable with taking the 'girl role' I had to admit the body suits had done wonders for our sex life. I would definitely miss the release while she was gone.

We were sitting in Kaffitár, a trendy coffee shop in the city centre, making plans. Siggy wanted us to go on a big cycle somewhere in the country. The snow and ice had thawed a little and she was keen to get out into the wild.

I was not too sure; when the four of us went for a ride around the neighbourhood I found myself getting out of breath really quickly. Maybe it was the darkness or the cold air but I often felt out of breath or fatigued. I worried it was the suit affecting my body.

"I'm not sure I want to do anything big," I groaned, "I'm still recovering from all the drinking over the weekend."

The thing about hanging out with actors is it involves a lot of late nights. No wonder I was worn out!

"I'm not going to let you just hang around the house moping after James," Siggy said sternly, although she laughed when I pulled an exaggerated pout.

"How about we drive out to somewhere?" I suggested, preferring the idea of sitting in a heated car to cycling against the elements.

"Maybe we could go to one of the heated swimming pools?" she suggested.

The public swimming baths in Reykjavik are all heated by volcanic springs coming up from under the ground. Architecturally they looked little different to public baths in the UK. There are a few different rituals you needed to adhere to though. While UK swimming pools are usually filled with chlorine in order to stop the spread of verrucas and other nasties, the Icelanders were proud of their water's purity. This meant they expected you to wash vigorously beforehand.

I was still not used to changing in the women's section and found myself doing the dance of the one towel, trying to grasp it close around me as I pulled off my underwear. A couple of young women, maybe students, watched me with a little amusement. Icelanders are less shy. Siggy passed me the green one-piece we bought the first time we came swimming in the city. Jamie and I had a bet on who could complete visiting all the swimming baths in the city first. I was glad to be able to add another notch to my belt.

First we tried the lobster pots. That's the name Jamie gave the series of circular Jacuzzi style baths. These were warmed by the volcanic springs and each one gets hotter until the final one. After that you are supposed to go swim a couple of lengths in the cold water of the main pool.

"It’s great for the skin," Siggy explained as she tries to persuade me into trying them out.

"I do really envy the skin of you Icelandic girls." Did I really say that? I noticed the two girls from the changing rooms, both were displaying plenty of their Icelandic skin. Siggy just smiled as I got in the first lobster pot.

The heat made me flush red. My costume felt too tight and I fiddled with it trying to loosen it. I blushed even harder when I noticed two guys in the next lobster pot watching me. I slunk down so my cleavage was under the water feeling like a member of the Baywatch cast. I saw Siggy was trying to suppress a giggle.

By the time we were out of the lobster pots and standing at one end of the main pool I could almost see steam coming out of my ears. The last Jacuzzi was almost too hot to stand. It was like my whole body was now heated by its own volcano.

I looked down at my reflection in the water, an image I was still not used to. Even my brown eyes, the one part of my face I knew was 'original' looked rounder and larger than I remembered. Somewhere to the left, a young boy jumped into the pool causing ripples to break apart the image of my face. Something lurched inside me and I felt nauseous and lightheaded. Without thinking I moved forward half jumping, half falling into the water.

Water rushed around me spinning and bubbling. I no longer knew which way was up. I saw something coming towards me and then an explosion to the left of me. At first I was frightened we would collide but I soon felt arms around me pulling me towards what I then realised was up. Then there was cold air.

Strong arms pulled me from the water and laid me on the floor. I could see a face, a male face coming towards me. I wanted to tell him something; that I was not really a woman and he shouldn't try to kiss me, but I could not speak. His lips were on mine and suddenly air came rushing into my lungs making them feel like they were going to explode. His head went away for a second but then he was back. I felt his fingers pinching my nose. He breathed into my lungs for the second time.

It was as though there was pure molten lead in my lungs. For a second I was just lying there and then I shot up spewing water everywhere. My mind was coming back to me. I saw a young blond man in front of me, smiling even though I had just thrown up water all over him. Behind him I could see Siggy's face. Her shocked look made me feel worse than all the water.

The blond boy said something in Icelandic to her and then put his arms underneath me. I wanted to say no, that I am fine, but I didn't have the strength to do so. As he lifted me up I struggled a little. Siggy tried to calm me down.

"Don't worry, he is taking you inside."

I wanted to say I didn't need to be carried but my head was spinning. I slipped around a little in his arms. It was then that I realised that I was shivering. All traces of warmth from the lobster pools had gone.

Once inside the blond boy plopped me down on a chair in the changing area. Siggy put a blanket over my shoulders and a young woman came over to me and offered me a hot sweet coffee. She may have said something to me but I didn't take it in. The only voice I heard was Siggy when she asked me if I was OK.

"I, I think so," I said, but didn’t feel sure.

"What happened?" She was kneeling down so her face was level with mine.

"I don't know, I think the heat and the steam were just too much for me."

It seemed plausible. I hated being this feeble.

She used the towel to rub my shoulder a little. I only realised then that I must still be dripping wet,

"It is fine. I think we have all overdone it the last couple of weeks."

Her tone annoyed me a little, like she was speaking to a child. When I looked up into her face I felt reassured by the warmth of her expression.

Siggy turned to the blond boy and said something in their own language. She must have reassured him I was OK because he shrugged and left.

"I know what," again I felt like she is mothering me, "let’s go home and get warmed up, then fish and chips tonight!" She smiled broadly and I nodded ascent.

Did you know fish and chips came to England from Spain through Jewish refugees? It makes sense if you think about it; potatoes came into Europe through Spain, and the Spanish like to put seafood in batter. This is what I have heard, but how true it is I don't know. Either way another interesting fact is that the humble fish and chips is the national dish of Iceland as well as England. They certainly had plenty of fish.

Icelandic Fish and Chips was a restaurant near the sea front. We were led to the table by a young, muscular man who said something in Icelandic to Siggy. She pointed at me and said, "In English please, Kelly’s from London."

I didn't like the way the young man took his time to look me up and down. My guess was that he's a student, although by the look of him he spent more time in the gym than in the library.

He guided us through the busy restaurant. I was wearing the Icelandic wool sweater Jamie bought me which covered me nicely, but I was regretting the skin-tight jeans. Siggy had persuaded me by appealing to my vanity. I regretted them even more when I caught the waiter checking out my arse in the mirror on the wall.

As he pulled out the chairs for us he introduced himself, "I am Arnar, I'll be looking after you this evening."

He took his time pushing the chair in underneath me, his hands brushed against my arms as he finished, "is there anything I can get you to drink?"

"How does white wine sound?" Siggy asked me.

I nodded a yes; she had made me promise to have an early night but I felt I still need something to take the edge off my nerves.

Siggy ordered a starter but I decide not to. Arnar asked if I wanted my main to come at the same time as her starter but I said I am happy to wait. To tell the truth my stomach still felt a little constricted. I hoped the food would help.

The drink flowed a little too quickly. I guess our tolerance was up after a couple of weeks drinking with actors. I was beginning to think we would need to order another bottle. The restaurant was warm and friendly. The customers seemed to be a healthy mix of locals and tourists.

By the time he brought out our main I was feeling pleasantly sloshed. I even laughed a little as he makes a lame half-joke about keeping us ladies waiting. I cut into the cod pleased to see how good it looked. But then something strange happened.

"Are you OK?" Siggy looked concerned, "You've turned green."

"I'm just feeling a little delicate," I paused. "Do you smell rotten fish?" I asked, which causes a couple on the next table to turn around and watch me.

"No, I don't think so," Siggy said. She leant over and started rummaging through my fish with her fork. "It looks fine."

Before I could tell her not to she had caught the attention of Arnar who came over. I muttered something about not making a fuss but she pointed to the fish and said something in Icelandic to him. Arnar looked concerned. I gave him a weak smile knowing I had caused him no end of hassle.

He disappeared eventually coming back five minutes later followed by two men. One wore a suit, the other in a chef's whites. The man in the suit asked if I was OK. I was burning red at being the centre of attention. The chef looked at the fish and proclaimed it as fine. I was half expecting him to kick off but he talked calmly to me.

"Sorry, I've been feeling a poorly all day." I glanced at Siggy, hoping she wouldn't bring up the swimming pool.

"No problem," chef smiled, "I will replace your fish with the vegetarian option. Would that be OK?"

I nodded smiling, happy the fuss was over. I noticed Siggy watching me closely. I felt bad I had given her two scares today.

"How about two more glasses of wine?” the manager asked. “On the house, of course."

"Better make mine a lemonade," I said sheepishly.

Once they had gone I turned back to Siggy, "I don't know what is wrong with me today," I said by way of an apology.

She took a little time to reply, "Don't worry about it," she said, sipping her wine and seemingly thinking things through. "With everything you've been through recently it isn't surprising your system is out of whack," I smiled at the British phrase she must have picked up in London.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I wanted to splash some water on my face. She offered to come with me but I said there was no need and she should enjoy her wine. I was alone so I took a few minutes to look at my face.

The nanos had given it a subtle make-up job. I wasn’t sure if the rosy cheeks were the fault of them, the wine or the hot spring water from earlier. I examined my face in detail. It was hard to accept how delicate it looked. How had they made my nose disappear into the tiny one I was looking at? The high cheekbones were not mine either, although the soft brown eyes were the same pair I had been looking at in a mirror since I was little.

I was mesmerised by my appearance for a while. Only when a middle-aged lady entered the bathroom did I move. I splashed water over my face, feeling better. I watched silently as the nanos, so tiny they were practically invisible, fixed my make-up. Once that was done I tied my hair back into a high ponytail, just as Jamie had shown me and fought a losing battle to get the long fringe out of my eyes.

When I returned to the table I saw that my replacement food had arrived. Siggy had finished hers but seemed happy holding a large glass of white wine. Suddenly I realised just how hungry I was.

Nine Months (Month Two)

Kelly is stranded in Iceland in a female body suit while Jamie, now James, is off shooting a film. Her friendship with Siggy develops, but is she hiding a secret? Why does Siggy have such a problem with Kelly drinking, and if she keeps getting sick every morning should Kelly listen to her?

Month 2

The day after the 'men' left, Siggy woke me up early.

"Urgh, what time is it?" I moaned, putting the pillow over my head. The light hurt my eyes and my mouth felt woolly.

"7am, come on, let’s get moving,” she said, pulling off the blanket.

"Seven? Let me sleep." I was up at 7am or earlier most working days. It’s amazing how quickly you can get used to late mornings.

"Just because the boys are away doesn't mean we can't have fun.”

"Huh?" It was still weird to not be included as one of the ‘boys.’

"I thought we'd take a drive for the day."

"Ummm," I moaned.

"Come on, let’s get coffee."

Reluctantly I got dressed. I pulled my hair back into a high ponytail and checked myself out in the mirror. I could see the nanos working, recreating a makeup job on my face. It was strange to think of them moving under my skin, or ‘false’ skin. I went to put on a pair of jeans but they all looked too tight for a long car journey. Reluctantly, I chose a black pinafore dress Jamie had bought back at Uni (which now fit me and had, by virtue of time, come back into style!) and Jamie’s warm Icelandic wool sweater. It was too big for me making me wonder how small I was getting. It looked baggy, but it’d keep me warm and remind me of her. I thought about that for a second and realised I was behaving like a stereotypical ‘girlfriend’ or ‘wife’. I put a pair of woolen tights under the dress, and pulled on thick socks and Dr Marten boots.

We started off in a little cafe around the corner from Siggy and Egon's place. Given the way most people dressed, we could have been in Berlin, East London or Brooklyn. We sat at the window watching the world pass by, me constantly pushing the fringe of my hair out of my eyes, Siggy chatting about the possible places we could visit. It was odd to see Reykjavik in the morning. It was a real city, full of people with jobs and kids who needed to get to school.

"Hihi, can we sit down?"

I looked around just in time to see two men sit either side of us.

"Hihi Kirtsjan! Dagur!" Siggy exclaimed, "When did you get back?” They all started talking excitedly in their own language. I caught, ‘Copenhagen,’ ‘Berlin’ and ‘London.’ I guessed that Kristjan and Dagur had been in Copenhagen and Berlin, since I knew that Siggy had been in London, where I met her.

After a few minutes, Siggy remembered me. "This is Kelly, a friend from London."

I smiled and nodded to the two men.

"Kelly, this is Kirtsjan and Dagur. We went to school together. I haven't seen them in years!"

"Hey," I extended my hand to both the men who took and shook it in turn. My hand looked small in theirs. I could feel their extra strength as they squeezed.

"What are you up to?" Kirtsjan was the taller, and seemed to be the more forward of the two.

"We were thinking of a drive."

"We are driving up to the Library of Water in Stykkisholmur. Do you want to come? We could drive around Snaefellsnes."

"What do you think?"

All three of them looked at me. I shrugged. I didn't recognise the places they had mentioned. Still, I was up for an adventure. I couldn’t spend my whole life moping around waiting for Jamie, and who knew, it could give me inspiration. “Sure,” I mumbled. I tried to pronounce the names and eventually gave up and said, “those sound great.”

Siggy and Kirtsjan sat up front with Dagur and me in the back.

I was watching the suburbs of Reykjavik disappearing when Dagur spoke, "I am going to meet an artist."

"Huh?" My mind had been on the passing houses, humming the Pete Seeger song Little Boxes. They all looked just the same.

"At The Library of Water. He's a German artist, from Berlin. He's making a film."

It was hard to make Dagur out over the drone of the engine and the loud music coming from the front of the car.

"How come you're meeting him?"

"I run a gallery in Berlin."

I nodded.

"I come over to London a lot. Do you know the Whitechapel?"

"Yes, I used to go to the previews."

"I curated a show of contemporary art from Scandinavia there two years ago."

"Impressive." It was, until I realised that he was trying to impress me - or the girl in front of him. Who was me or wasn’t. I wasn’t sure.

He looked out the window, apparently satisfied I'd acknowledged his achievement. For the next hour or so, I mostly kept quiet listening to the others. They were all school friends and had left, like many young Icelanders, after the crash in 2007/8. The conversation would switch between Icelandic and then, once they remembered I was there, English. Honestly, I didn’t care. I was busy watching the scenery and thinking about everything. Every so often, my stomach would do a little flip. I chalked it up to a hangover and the long bumpy car ride.

"When you left University in the boom years, they gave you a loan to buy a car and house, even if you didn't have a job," Siggy explained.

"Then the banks crashed and we all had to move abroad to be able to afford the interest." Kristjan finished.

I thought back to the suburbs of Reykjavik with the new looking houses and expensive German cars. I wondered how many of their owners were now working someplace else to be able just to keep them here. It reminded me of the Irish who, after the crash, went to London or the United States to work and left empty McMansions behind.

Around lunchtime, we stopped at a little petrol station near the sea. We ate the obligatory Icelandic hot dogs and drank Coke. My stomach calmed down a little. Maybe I was just hungry.

"You live in Berlin?" I asked, trying to make conversation. I couldn’t competently discuss pre-crash Iceland.

"Yes," Dagur said, with a smile.

"They do good sausages in Germany," I mused. I'd eaten a lot of hot dogs by that point.

"I suppose. Don’t you like Icelandic hot dogs?" He punched me gently on the arm.

"They are OK I suppose. I would kill for a Cumberland." I'd have gone for anything that didn't make me worry I was eating toenails.

“I’m sorry my sausage doesn’t satisfy you,” he laughed and walked away. For the first time, I realised that we may have been having two different conversations.

Back in the car, I let Siggy, Kristjan and Dagur talk. I felt bad the three of them having to talk in English so, instead of imposing myself on the conversation, I kept to myself, not that I was bored. Iceland had plenty of scenery to keep me interested.

I'd been reading about the history of the country. How a group of male Vikings had left Norway looking for a land of their own. How they had kidnapped women from what is now Britain and Ireland on their way, and in raiding parties later. I found myself imagining being dragged away from everything I’d known, having to make a new life for myself in the harsh new environment. I stopped when I realised I was imagining myself in the female role. I might never have been the marauding barbarian, if I was being honest with myself, but I certainly wasn't ready to be the damsel in distress.

"I said we are going to stop at Jokulsarlon," Siggy said.

"Huh?" I turned when it dawned on me they were talking to me again. Realising I needed to say something more, I added, "What's a Jokulsarlon?"

Jokulsarlon was my first glacial lake. Despite it being spring/Summer there was still ice floating in the water. In place, the water had turned a bright blue. a product of the melting ice.

"Every year the ice melts more." I turned to look at Dagur. He looked very Icelandic with the wind whipping his beard and blond hair. His eyes were the color of the water. I was concerned that I realised that. "That's what the Library of Water is all about. An English artist, Roni Horn, started it by collecting water samples from melting glaciers."

"Is that what your friend's film is about?"

"No," he shook his head. "His film is about the first settlers to reach the island. Imagining what it’d be like to go somewhere humans hadn’t yet touched. Iceland was covered in trees back then."

I looked around at the stark landscape trying to imagine it covered in forest.

"He's doing it on human impact, just in a poetic way."

I nodded, again I imagined myself brought to this place, forced to make a new life here. I didn’t have to imagine very hard and I pulled my sweater tightly around myself. Iceland was different up here, more wild. Reykjavik may feel like a last outpost of human habitation, but it is still under human control. Up here it felt like we were in nature's territory.

We stayed for an hour or more. Walking around in the strange landscape, I was glad of my tough Dr Martens and my extra thick wool socks and tights. For some reason, I felt the cold more in the bodysuit. I had thought the extra layer would be warm, possibly too warm. Perhaps it was the body weight I’d lost, or maybe the nanos were just too good at passing on experience. The other three mainly talked in Icelandic laughing and enjoying each other's company. I assumed they were going over old stories from school. I was happy to stay quiet. It was with reluctance that we returned to the car.

Many of the roads in Snaefellsnes were little more than dirt tracks. Even with three locals, we nearly got lost several times. I wasn't worried. It fascinated me, the strangeness like another planet. By the time we reached the outskirts of Stykkisholmur, it was late afternoon. We stopped at a little petrol station for supplies. Dagur disappeared to the loos, and Siggy and Kirtsjan went into the little shop to pay. I joined them, more to stretch my legs than anything.

I wandered around the shop, not really paying attention to what they had. It was a pretty limited offering, about what you'd expect in a small rural shop/petrol station. I kept half an eye on my two friends as they paid for our petrol.

They seemed to be caught in a deep discussion with the middle-aged woman manning the till. Something was up.

"The ring road is out both ways out of Snaefellsnes," Siggy reported.

"The warm weather has caused landslides. It happens often this time of year," Kirtsjan added.

"Shit, what does that mean. Are we stuck?" I half-asked, half-moaned.

"Yes, probably for one night at least."

"Is there somewhere we can stay?" I didn't like the idea of sleeping in the car.

"The woman says there's a..." Kirtsjan looked at Siggy

".. like a youth hostel. In the next town." Siggy finished for him.

I looked over at the woman and grinned my thanks. She looked back with little interest.

Back at the car we explained to Dagur what was happening. He disappeared to call his friend and we sat around waiting. In silence, Siggy passed around a large bag of crisps. Wherever we were going, I hoped it had real food.

Dagur's artist friend wasn't going to be able to make it thanks to the road closures. Dagur made plans to meet him in a few days in Reykjavik, so clearly this journey hadn't been all that essential. By this point, we were all feeling tired and hungry so we decided to head to the hostel.

It looked pretty much how hostels do. clean but nothing fancy. I was a little surprised to hear we'd be sharing two bunk beds in the same room. That said, I didn't know who I'd be the least comfortable sharing with. Technically, it should have been Siggy, but, as she seemed to see me as another girl, I didn’t see it as a problem, at least for now. I hoped Jamie would see it the same way.

After unloading our stuff, in my case not much - I'd only planned on a day trip, we decided to explore the little town. From what we had been told, there were two options for eating and entertainment. One was a restaurant down by the docks. This didn't look very inviting and the place smelled too much of fish, which inexplicably turned my stomach. I had to find the loo and throw up. The second place was a combination of main store (possibly the only store), bar and garage. The rest didn't bother me but the bar seemed friendly enough from the outside.

We found a little table near the back and sat down. Kristjan and Siggy went up to order for us.

"Are you disappointed about your friend?"

Dagur shrugged, "Not really, I'll catch him in a few days."

When he smiled, the skin wrinkled around his eyes. His skin was that mixture of tough and glowing that the Icelanders get from exposure from the elements. I realised that, without knowing he went to school with Siggy, I wouldn't have been able to place his age. He could have been anywhere between his late twenties and early forties.

"To be honest what I really wanted was to visit home and meet a pretty English girl."

I was about to put him right when Siggy and Kirtsjan returned with beer.

Food arrived a little later. Dagur laughed at how large the burger looked in my small hands.

"With a diet like this, I'll start putting on weight," I laughed.

"Don't be stupid, you’re tiny." Siggy informed me with characteristic Icelandic bluntness. “Besides, you need to eat something.” After she said that, she look away. She had a habit of fiddling with the cuffs of her shirt when she was nervous.

And she was right. I was. If anything, I'd lost weight, and maybe even a little height since putting on the suit. I had some idea of how it converted body mass into energy, but I wasn't sure how it would convert it back. I didn't want to end up as a pint sized version of myself.

We heard music coming from another part of the bar, it sounded live.

"I'm going to investigate," Dagur got up, "Anyone want another drink?"

"I'll have one," I smiled the tiredness and alcohol were weaving their magic.

Siggy surprised me, "Perhaps you shouldn't. We can't drink as much as the boys," she said, with a serious look. “You’ve had a lot lately.” Again, she looked like she said something she shouldn’t, but then I decided that I was just tired.

I'd never heard an Icelandic woman admit to not being able to do anything as well as 'the boys,’ let alone drinking, which was pretty much like breathing to them. I used to think we drank a lot, and we do. I’d say the French drink because they like the taste of wine. The English drink because we like the feeling of being drunk. The Icelanders, and other Nordic peoples, drink to erase time and space.

"Bollocks to that. I'll drink anyone under the table." I said, in what I hoped was a lighthearted way. "I'll give you a hand."

The bar seemed terribly high to me, which again made me worry about losing height. As Dagur ordered two more beers for us (I was tempted to suggest he order an orange juice for Siggy), I looked around for the source of the music.

Eventually I spotted it. In one corner were five men of differing ages. Three had acoustic guitars, one some sort of percussion instrument and the final one a violin. They started to play. I didn't recognise the song but was immediately taken in by their voices. Again, I thought what it must have been like to have been spirited away here, only this time I didn’t think it’d be so bad.

Dagur handed me a pint and we stood watching them play. After a second song, they started playing something akin to a jig. Dagur put his pint down and offered me his hand. Something, maybe the tiredness combined with the drink, maybe my annoyance with Siggy 'policing' me, made me take it.

His hands held me by my narrow waist as we swayed gently. It felt awkward but also freeing. I pulled away, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. He took my hand. "You know swing?" he asked, with a smile. I was surprised but went along.

Jamie had dragged me along to swing dance classes for nearly a year. While I was never really any good, Dagur was. He kept in time while moving me expertly. For my part, I was enjoying how much easier the woman's part was than the man's. You just had to follow.

At the end of the song, he further took me by surprise. I went for a twirl and he caught me as I'd hoped, but then he tipped me. I had to cling on to his neck to avoid landing on my bum. There was a spattering of applause and few laughs, probably directed at the confused look on my face.

The barman smiled as we past him. "Whisky," he indicated the bar, "For you both."

As we picked up the drinks I noticed the concerned look on Siggy’s face. This time I felt bad. She probably thought I was leading on a good friend of hers, not to mention messing around behind Jamie's back. As I sat back down, I smoothed my skirt underneath me placing my hands in my lap.

"Perhaps we could go for a walk?" I offered as a conciliatory measure.

"Good idea," Kirtsjan interjected, "I have a bottle of vodka in the boot of the car."

I had meant just Siggy and me, but didn't know how to turn them down without being rude. Siggy looked worried. I resolved to reassure her nothing was going on between me and Dagur as soon as I got a chance.

We ended up walking a little way out of town to a small stream. I wanted to stop by a large pile of stones and rest on them. The rest of the ground was covered in wet moss and grass, but the Icelanders demurred. I picked up Kristjan muttering something about 'Huldufólk', which I knew to mean elves. The Icelanders hated to admit it but they were a superstitious lot.

In the end, we stopped about halfway before the mountain. The two boys took off their boots and bathed their feet in the clear water. I imagine it was freezing cold coming from the glacier held back by the mountains. The mountains themselves were carved out by the ice moving across the landscape long ago. Watching them relaxing, I wanted to join them, but that'd mean taking off my tights. It was too cold for that. I also didn’t like the way Dagur’s eyes lingered on my legs. I had no intention of giving him a show.

I took the opportunity to take Siggy to one side. "Is everything OK?"

Again he looked like she wanted to say something. She stayed silent, fiddling with her hair.

"I'm not leading Dagur on. At least not intentionally."

She sighed, and for a moment I thought she was going to let me have it. "I don't think that." Her smile was full of warmth, "I'm just worried.. All the drinking... It might have an effect on...,” she looked away, “you, because of the suit." She sighed and gave up trying to explain herself.

I laughed a little, "Is that it? Look, as far as I know drink has no effect on the nano suits."

She put a hand on my shoulder, "It’s not the nano suit. You are smaller now, less body weight. Alcohol will have more effect. I wasn't joking before," she looked over at the two boys who were paying us no attention, "Kristjan, Dagur, James even. They are good guys but some men will want to take advantage."

"I can handle myself." I never liked admitting to weakness and didn’t want to do so then.

"Maybe, normally, but not drunk and not this small. Some guys don't take no for an answer. "

I was about to come up with some flippant reply but then I noticed something in her eyes.

"It happened to me once, in London," she said, looking down[3] .

"Shit Siggy, I didn't know," I took her in a hug. "Do the others know?"

"Egon yes, he's been brilliant. But not James, please don't tell him, or anyone else." I was surprised that she had never told Jamie, and how she thought of her as “James” and “him.” I was more surprised that she confided in me, that she saw me as another woman. She wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her coat. We caught each other's eyes and, in spite of ourselves, we laughed. I hugged her closer noticing how she was slightly taller than me now. "We should go see them soon,” she said.

"Yes," I replied emphatically, trying to lighten the mood and make her feel better. "We'll do a road trip at the weekend." It was only then I realised how much I missed Jamie. I knew I wouldn't tell her about Siggy's secret, not unless Siggy said it was OK, but somehow I knew being near Jamie would make me feel all the better.

That night we stayed up late playing cards. I've never been much of a poker player. I always forget the rules. The boys passed around Kristjan’s vodka bottle, but both Siggy and I stuck to tea. We slept on the same bed that night, Siggy and I. Fully clothed of course.

---

Even at the start of May there was snow outside the window.

“Hey, can’t we try having sex the normal way?” I pouted at Jamie and then hated myself for it. We, Siggy and me, drove up north, taking the road that goes around the whole country. With the filming schedule being so packed, this was the only way we would get to see them. Our conjugal visit, Siggy jokingly called it.

“We do have sex the normal way,” sighed Jamie. I detected a note of annoyance in her voice. She sat on the edge of the bed.

“You know what I mean,” I got out from under the covers and crawled over to her. First I leaned my head on her back and then I kissed her artificially enlarged shoulders, the way I knew she liked.

“We wouldn’t even have to take our full body suits off, just free our genitals,” Jamie turned her head to the side and I took the opportunity to kiss her cheek.

“OK then,” she agreed, begrudgingly. “First, we do it this way.” This is what relationships are about folks, compromise. That and I was horny and needed the release.

Jamie turned around quickly and, placed her hands under my armpits, using the enhanced strength in her arms she threw me back onto the bed.

The sex was, to say the least, strange. While Jamie was pumping away, my mind kept drifting. I kept wondering why she was so adamantly opposed to having it the way we used to. I wondered what, or who, she had been doing on set while I was in Reykjavik. When she finally came, we freed our genitals. The second time, the sex was just weird and desultory. It was strange to be the girl, looking down at a man, yet having sex the old way. I would call it the ‘normal’ way, but it wasn’t. I had no upper body strength and it was much harder for me to hold myself up. That, and given the difference in height, I was staring at Jamie’s sternum, not her face. Jamie looked like she couldn’t wait for it to be over. As a result of all of the awkwardness, it took me forever to come.

It must have been early when Jamie got up. It was still dark outside. I watched the grey outline of her male body as she got dressed. I felt a woozy sense of contentment coming from the long love making session, I doubt we had slept more than two hours. I felt sorry for her having a long day of filming ahead of her. But I had the physical exhaustion from the long hours of driving to deal with. It helped to know that I would be able to go back asleep once she had left.

She leaned over me smiling. I put my arms around her and pulled her into a long deep kiss.

“Get some sleep,” she smiled, “keep your stamina up for later,” then she was gone. I felt great as I drifted back off to sleep.

When I woke again, the clock said 10:32. Shit, I had missed breakfast. I hoped Siggy hadn’t headed out without me? We were meant to be out exploring while they filmed. I got up realising I was completely naked apart from the body suit. Almost all of my body suit, I had to find my fake pussy. I pulled it back on, not wanting to risk exposure, then sat there sighing as the soothing gel spread out relieving my crushed genitals.

After a few minutes, I got up and started looking for my case. It wasn’t near the chair where I had left it. I went to the wardrobe, thinking Jamie may have hung my clothes up. She was always on at me to take better care of them, especially as I was now the one in the dresses and skirts. But no, it wasn’t there. I checked under the bed and in every corner of the room, not that there were many places to hide something so big.

Finally, in desperation, I checked the bathroom. There were no clothes but there was a note taped to the mirror. I ripped it off and read it:

“Hey sexy, I didn’t want to wake you. I do want to spend the day thinking about you waiting naked for me in our bed. See you in a few hours, enjoy room service xxxx”

God damn her kinky side. I didn’t have long to think about it as there was a knocking at the door. I ran back into the bedroom. I pulled a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around me from my armpits down. Composing myself, I opened the door.

“Hey you? Why aren’t you ready?” Siggy said brightly. She looked refreshed and ready to go.

“Urgh,” I groaned, “I’m feeling a little worse for wear.” Or worse for nothing to wear, as the case may be.

“You do look a little green,” she said brushing my forehead with her hand, “And you feel hot as well.” She looked more worried than a hangover and fever warranted.

It was at that moment that I felt my stomach lurching. Without any notice, I started retching. I had one, maybe two minutes to get to safety. Without another word, I turned and ran to the bathroom, flinging my arms around the toilet basin just in time. As I started hurling, I felt Siggy’s hands pulling back my hair and stroking my back. With a jolt, I realised the sheet had fallen off me as I ran.

There was no time to worry about it as I knelt there emptying my stomach’s contents. I sat there, slumped on the floor, for ten, maybe twenty minutes before I was sure it was safe enough for me to lean back. Siggy went and got a damp cloth from the shower and placed it on my forehead.

“What happened?” she asked.

I thought about the two-thirds empty vodka bottle on the bedside table. Jamie had insisted. “Drinking on an empty stomach,” I said, my voice hoarse and my mouth tasting like bile.

Siggy looked upset. “James needs to stop these games. He can’t keep you up all night like this,” Siggy muttered, as much to herself as me. I didn’t appreciate being treated like a fragile child, but I couldn’t really disagree given the circumstances.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Siggy asked, taking the damp cloth from my forehead and checking my temperature.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “It’s not the first time I’ve done this. I just need some rest. Go have fun. Say hi to Eggy for me. I’ll sleep it off and be good as new.”
“OK,” she said warily. “Promise me you won’t do this again. You can’t drink like this anymore,” she said.

I didn’t know what to say. I was about to say, “Thanks, mum,” but the look of pure concern on her face made me hold back. Instead, I smiled and said, “I think I’ve learned my lesson.”

She helped me back into bed, tucked me in and kissed me on the forehead. I heard the sounds of cleaning for about ten minutes and the toilet flushing.

When she returned, I thanked her, “You didn’t have to,” I said. She just smiled and kissed me on the forehead again. It was thoughtful of her. I was glad I wouldn’t have to face a mess in a few hours.

“Do you want anything?” She looked concerned. “Something to eat, perhaps, to,” and she paused, “keep up your strength.”

“No really, I am OK,” and I really was, the nausea having already passed. “I guess I just needed to get it out of my system. I just need to rest.”

“OK,” she squeezed my hand, “I’ll leave you in peace.”

After she left, I looked for my laptop and realised that Jamie had hidden it along with my clothes. I assumed that she had just put it somewhere safe, and so I turned on the TV. Thankfully, Icelandic TV shows lots of British shows, just with subtitles. It’s one of the reasons they speak such good English. Still, it felt odd to be watching Silent Witness and Inspector Morse inside the Arctic Circle.

It was past 7pm before I finally heard Jamie’s electronic key in the door. I sat up in bed pulling my legs, and the sheets to my chest. I was not best pleased. It had been a long, boring day watching endless TV. At least I was feeling better. I hadn’t eaten.

“You look adorable,” Jamie chuckled as she came through the door. Not the right thing to say. I crossed my arms in a huff. I noticed she was pulling my wheelie suitcase behind her.

“Sorry hun,” she tried to console me. “I just couldn’t resist.” She sat on the other side of the bed to me.

She put her arm around me and I moved away abruptly. “Do you know how many episodes of Inspector Morse I’ve watched? I actually got through two episodes of The Killing in its original Danish I was so bored,” I was in no mood to just forgive her.

“Did you learn any useful words?” She used her calm voice, the one she used when she knew I was angry with her.

“Takk,” I said, trying to suppress a smile at my useless language skills.

“It was a stupid prank,” she conceded, “But I did think a day’s rest would do you good. You looked a little under the weather.” Her voice indicated a note of concern, she reached out and stroked my foot. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to ruin the weekend.

“I was throwing up this morning.”

“Really?” She looked concerned for a second and then her face turned impassive.

I shrugged, “I am feeling much better now. And you still shouldn’t have done it. You could have left me something to wear. It’s cold here, you know.”

Jamie seemed really happy that I was feeling better, which warmed my mood a little. She kept flicking little guilty looks my way and I enjoyed the feeling of having some control back in our relationship.

“Look, I got you a present,” she indicated a large smooth rock she puts on the bed, “It’s from a volcano, I got it for you. And Angela and Karen are taking us out. If you feel up to it that is?”

“I am not sure.” I knew what I had promised Siggy and knew that I would be better off if I kept the promise, but I felt better and had a severe case of cabin fever. “Fine,” I sighed. “We can go, but I need to take it easy tonight, OK?”

Jamie smirked, “OK. Thanks. I promise.”

There was only one bar in town and, unsurprisingly it was crowded. It took us an age to get to the bar as cast and crew from the film kept stopping ‘James’ to say hi. It was clear that she/he was popular. It felt good to bask in a little of ‘his’ reflective popularity. ‘James’ introduced everyone to me, far too many names for me to remember. Everyone greeted me with hugs and kisses, but I don’t think a single one of them asked me much beyond my name, and how long James and I had been together.

She led me to a cubicle at the back where Angela and Karen were holding court. Sitting opposite them were Siggy and Egon. I budged in next to Siggy and Jamie offered to go to the bar for the table.

“I’ll have a beer,” I said.

Siggy looked at me and said, “I thought we talked about this.” Everyone looked at her and I noticed the concerned look that she gave Jamie, who sat there impassively.

She was right but I never liked being called out in front of everyone. “One beer, Siggy. I’ll be fine.” Siggy looked at me and then Jamie, as if she expected her to say something. She started to say something and then said, with a smile, “I’m not cleaning up again.”

It was fun to have the gang back together again. Angela kept talking about how well the filming was going and how great James was. I doubt she would have said anything if it wasn’t, but her sheer levels of enthusiasm persuaded me it was at least partly true.

Egon had many stories to tell of the trouble of filming out in the cold, getting equipment out to remote locations and moaning actors. ”Not you, of course,” he reassured Jamie. I could see Siggy holding on to his arm and I remembered the fertility book I found in their house.

Jamie and I had been trying for a long time before we got the bad news that it would be unlikely we would conceive, what with my low sperm count and her ‘hostile’ womb. It pained me when I thought about it; I knew Jamie hated it too, although she refused to talk about it. I hopped Siggy and Egon would be spared the same pain.

I nursed my beer for a while. When Siggy went away, I got up and got another one. I drank it quickly to avoid her criticizing me and felt it go to my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a concerned look flit across Jamie’s face, which made me even angrier. ‘How dare she?’ I thought. ‘After how she left me.’ Then I thought better. I didn’t want to waste this rare weekend together on a stupid argument. Still, why was she pouting over two beers?

There came a moment when we were left on our own. “What are you doing, why are you drinking so much?” Her voice was low but angry.

“Who do you think you are?” I said, not keeping my voice down. “First, you leave me naked all day without my laptop. And I’ve had, what, two to your six, seven? Why are you being such an arse?”

Siggy looked at Jamie, then me. “He wasn’t throwing up this morning. You were and you promised.”

I felt chastened. Siggy was there for me this morning. She was there for me with Kristjan and Dagur and she was just concerned. My ego wouldn’t let me admit that though, so I just stared at them.

Jamie looked at me and said, “What? Siggy’s just concerned for you. Don’t be angry at her.”

“I. Am not angry. At her,” I said, through gritted teeth.

Thankfully, Egon came back from the toilet and halted further escalation. It didn’t matter, our weekend was ruined. We stayed longer than most, leaving only when the staff started putting chairs on tables and mopping.

We left the bar, and I walked away from Jamie. Behind me, I could hear Egon and Siggy arguing in German, and I assumed it was about us.

Jamie caught up to me and tried to take my arm. I knew she’d try and explain herself and that, if she did, I’d forgive her like I always did. Like any good actress (or, I guessed, now actor), she knew how to manipulate her audience and I wasn’t interested in that, not now at least. I stormed off, leaving the other three in my wake. I felt bad that Egon and Siggy were in the middle of this, but it was too late for that.

As I walked away, I heard Siggy and Jamie arguing, although I was too far away to make out what was being said. Then Siggy shouted, “James, you have to tell her!”

I turned around and stormed back. “Tell her?” I yelled then corrected myself, “Tell me what?”

Jamie looked like she was about to die. Even under the nano skin I could recognise her expression. She was about to tell me something terrible. Fuck, I thought, this is it. She’s been cheating on me, or she has cancer. She just stood there, not able to speak. I didn’t know whether to be mad or understanding. In the end, Siggy broke first.

She took my arm. “Kelly, you’re pregnant.”

I wanted to laugh, “Are you crazy?” I look her in face expecting to see that impish grin of hers appear, “Look, I know these suits are convincing but come on. I am still a man underneath all this.” Then, in the back of mind, it dawned on me. Telling me to rest, trying to stop the drinking, it all made sense. I didn’t want it to, but it did.

Jamie still said nothing and stood there, alternating looks of shame and impassivity. Siggy glared at her and then continued. “She was desperate. When she bought the suits, she thought that it would be like a surrogate. That she would be able to have a baby. You know how much she wants a baby. She was supposed to wear the suit. It was supposed to be a surprise,” she said, tailing off.

“Surprise,” I said, mirthlessly.

Jamie finally regained her voice, “It was a surprise but then that fucking company messed everything up.”

I couldn’t respond. Jamie stood there ashamed. The only sound was Siggy and Egon arguing in German. It was obvious that he and I were just hearing about this now. I guess that I was, for now, one of the ‘guys’ again.

To say that the argument went on for a while, would be an understatement.

“How long did you two plan to keep this a secret?” I screamed at Jamie and Siggy.

Jamie alternated apologising and defending herself. “You. You. You. It’s all about you. What about me? It was supposed to me,” and she started to tear up. If we had been us, I would’ve caved then. Jamie knew that tears would always get to me. However, seeing ‘James’ cry disgusted me. ‘Be a man,’ I thought. ‘One of us should be.’

“Are you serious?” I screamed. “Look at me.” She looked at the ground. “LOOK AT ME!” I screamed. She looked at me and then looked at Siggy and Egon. Siggy look mortified. Egon looked disgusted.

Siggy looked like she wanted to say something, but Egon glared at her and put his hand on her arm. She said something in German and then they started arguing. This continued from the street to the car to the house. Finally, at five AM, the fight went out of me. My head was weary with talking. I knew why she had done it, I even sympathised on some level. Had I realised how desperate she was? Probably not, not before then. Perhaps the fault was partly mine for not realising. All I knew then was that I couldn’t be around her, not now.

“So, does this mean we are over?” she said, her face looking impassive. I don’t know what I expected, maybe not crying, but something more.

I was about to say, “yes,” but somewhere deep in that male face was the face of the woman I loved. I looked into her eyes and saw Jamie. Instead, I said, “I don’t know. I need time.”

She just nodded solemnly, like I was a doctor telling her a growth had come back.

I stood outside Egon and Siggy’s room. It was silent and I assumed that they had fallen asleep. I was going to let them sleep but I needed to get away now and couldn’t call an Uber. I knocked and Egon opened the door. He had clearly been asleep but he didn’t look surprised to see me. “Come in,” he said.

“I need to go back to Reykjavik,” I told him flatly.

“Of course, I can see if any of the crew are driving back.” He said. He didn’t ask me any questions and I loved him for it.

“No. I need to go straight away, now.” I stated.

Siggy got out of bed and started getting dressed. “I will drive you,” she said.

“When did she tell you?” I had no time for talking around the houses.

Siggy’s voice went quiet. “Just after you arrived,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.” She looked at Egon, “Eggy made me see that.”

I didn’t want to be around any of them. Egon gave me a look of understanding but said, “she’s your best bet for getting out now, otherwise you might have to wait till Monday.” I suspected he wanted Siggy to take me so we would get the chance to make up. In the end, I didn’t really care. I just wanted to get out.

It was nearly 7am by the time we were ready to leave. Without asking, Egon went to my room and got my clothes. I could hear him and Jamie talking, his voice low and angry. I wondered if he regretted hiring Jamie. Part of me hoped so. I showered in their room and changed into a sweater and jeans that Siggy had laid out. I was grateful that she hadn’t left a dress or skirt. I couldn’t deal with that.

We went out to the car and I saw Egon load another suitcase into the boot. I wondered if Siggy was leaving too.

When we got in, I said, “I appreciate the ride but I may not, probably won’t talk, understand that.”

SIggy looked straight ahead, rather than look at me. “I understand that.”

I half slept and half stared out of the window most of the way. There’s a lot of country to see in Iceland and very little human activity. We drove for nearly two hours without seeing any evidence of other humans aside the odd car. I was slipping in and out of sleep.

Around lunch time, we came to a little town, the name of which I don’t remember. It was little more than a line of houses along the road. There was a church at one end and a large building with a petrol station at the other. We filled up at the petrol station and bought hotdogs from inside the building. I was sick of hot dogs. They reminded me of everything. Wanting to stretch our legs, we went on a little walk to the church.

Mountains loomed behind the church, making it look even smaller than it was – and it was pretty small. It was a beautiful vista but I couldn’t see it, not then. Now, everything just reminded me of everything that had happened, of Jamie. Looking inside I couldn’t believe it could fit everyone in, not even from this small town.

“I am so sorry Kelly,” Siggy started, as if being in a religious building was forcing her to confess and beg for absolution.

I should have said what I felt. That I didn’t expect anything from her. That she wasn’t our friend, that she was Jamie’s friend. For some reason, I let her off the hook. “It’s OK. I know Jamie put you on the spot.” I thought for a second about the bars and was going to thank her for trying to stop my drinking, but decided I wasn’t interested in giving her any credit.

We didn’t say anything for a while. I spent the time looking at the painting of Jesus on the wall. It was a strange Jesus, kind of like a Viking Jesus. Viking Jesus would definitely be able to take the normal Hippy Jesus we were used to in England in a fight.

As we left the church, Siggy asked me what must have been on her mind, “What are you going to do about the baby?”

I didn’t know. I was pro-choice, of course. It was only then that I started to see the gravity of that choice. Anyone who thinks it’s an easy decision needs to get stuck in one of these surrogate suits. On one hand, if you had said to me just twenty-four hours before that Jamie and I could have a kid I would have bitten your arm off, no matter what I would have to do. On the other, I now didn’t know if I could trust Jamie, and if I really knew her at all.

There was a child inside me. Was it fair to blame it for what Jamie did, the mistakes made by the company? I couldn’t put what I was feeling in words. I sat on a bench for a long while. Siggy kept looking at me, like she wanted to say something but wouldn’t. I don’t know how long I was sitting there when it came to me. Jamie had impregnated me against my will, albeit by accident. I felt violated. I probably would never be able to tell anyone that. If I went to the police and told them my wife impregnated me against my will, they would laugh in my face. I don’t know exactly when I began crying, just that Siggy was holding me as I shook.

---

They play music loud in Reykjavik. My vision was already going foggy when I spotted him. He was tall and Germanic looking. From the look he gave me, I could tell he was interested.

Siggy was talking to her friends and had momentarily forgotten to spy on me. I think she’d almost lost her voice begging me not to drink, begging me to not punish the baby. I returned the Germanic man's look for a second before turning back to my beer. I had seen girls do it thousands of times. I knew the trick was to not look back until he came over.

"Hey," he said to me.

"Hey," I said back. I turned away taking another swig out of my bottle, but I didn't move away.

"You American?" he said, looking me over with a smile.

"British," I replied as I looked him up and down. He was tall, good looking. It looked to me like he worked out.

We talked for a while. He was a Danish photographer who split his time between London and New York. He was in Iceland taking photos for a fashion magazine in Japan, of which I’d never heard.

He leaned in close to my ear, "I could use you," he whispered.

I laughed at his bad pickup line and raised an eyebrow.

"No," he said, "I really mean it. Don't take this the wrong way but I don't want models. I want real women who are beautiful."

I blushed, if only he knew. I looked to the left and saw Siggy coming over.

"Hey, hey," Her voice was light but her eyes suspicious. "What are you two up to?"

"This is my new friend, uh.." I patted the Danish man on the arm as I realised I didn't know her name.

"Felix," he introduced herself. He was laughing at my comical drunkenness.

"Felix wants me to be in his photo shoot," I grinned at Siggy. I was thinking about how this would get back to Jamie. I enjoyed knowing the pain that it would cause her. I would have preferred to be the 'man' in this situation, and Felix a hot girl, but still, it would be a win for me to make her jealous.

"Can I talk to my friend?" Siggy asked Felix. She pulled me away before I had chance to object.

"Hey, you’re pulling it all out of shape," I whined as she grabbed me by the t-shirt.

“Kelly,” she said, putting her hands on my shoulders. “I know you’re cross, you should be.” I was having trouble focusing on her. I hadn’t had a lot to drink, only three beers but I was tired, mentally and physically. “But you need to be careful,” she said. “For you. And the baby.” Once I started speaking to her, she seemed unnecessarily focused on the baby.

“Thanks for the advice,” I grunted. I didn't feel like being careful. There didn't seem to be anything for me about which I needed to be careful. I had no girlfriend, no permanent place to live and no job, at least for the next three months. “You’re right,” I sneered. “I could wake up pregnant.” The alcohol had given me confidence. Beer muscles, an American friend called it.

“Please,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Remember….” And her voice trailed off, which sobered me up quite a bit. “I know it seems bleak,” she said quietly, her voice cracking. “Think of yourself and,” then she put her hand on my belly, “the baby.” With that, I collapsed in tears into her arms. My mind was racing. Did I want this baby, Jamie? It was all too much.

After I don’t know how long, I stopped crying and Siggy said that she was going to take me home. I asked her to take me to a hotel. I looked at the bar and my stomach flipped. The alcohol had worn off and I was nauseous.

While Siggy went for our coats, I stared at the ground. I was lost in thought when I felt something slip into the pocket of my t-shirt. I felt a shiver of pleasure as his hand brushed lightly against the breast of my bodysuit. I looked up and Felix stood over me, smiling. “Whoever he is, he’s not worth it.” Somewhere in the back of my mind, the stupid part, I felt like I should defend Jamie, but thought better of it.

“I’m serious though,” he said. “If you want out of Reyjavik and want to earn some money, call me.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked more closely at him. He had a handsome, chiseled face. His pale skin was covered in freckles around her cheeks and nose. "Huh?"

"The modeling," he said, flexing his arms. They were well built and covered in tiny blond hairs. His shoulders were broad and stretched the fabric of his black t-shirt. He smiled and then left.

"What did he want?" Siggy asked as she handed me my coat, scarf and hat.

"Just saying goodbye," I shrugged. I turned my back to Siggy taking Felix's card out of my breast pocket and slipping it into the back pocket of my jeans. I’m not sure why I was so secretive. Just the thought of having something of my own to hide made me feel a little better. A little more in control.

Siggy had to half carry me home through the lightly falling snow. It looked magical watching the snowflakes fall in front of the street lighting. I suspect I enjoyed it far more than Siggy did. She kept looking like she wanted to say something, but wouldn’t. I was so curious that I almost asked her what she was thinking, but then realised I might not want the answer. I wasn’t ready for a defense of Jamie or a lecture, so I said nothing. I just thought about the baby inside me. I still didn’t understand how this happened, how it could happen.

We stopped at the hotdog stand near the sea front, the one Bill Clinton was supposed to have eaten at during his visit. Siggy said she wanted to get some food inside me. I wanted anything but hot dogs, but that was our only option. I choked one down and stared at the water. It was dark and foreboding.

I watched the snow falling on the surface of the waves. Each snowflake quickly melted into the icy water, disappearing into the black depths. I thought of the fish underneath the water and how little I knew of them and how little they knew of me. For some reason, this thought was comforting to me.

---

The new day brought with it one hell of a hangover. I stood in front of the little mirror staring at the bags under my eyes. It seemed strange to see how my fake face had been affected by the real damage I’d done to my body.

I felt the skin, the soft lips, it all seemed so real. Eventually I pulled up my t-shirt and rubbed my belly. It was still flat as a pancake. I knew it wouldn’t be long before that changed.

After sticking my head under the tap and gulping down cold water, I made my way to the kitchen. It took me an age to get the coffee machine going. At first I forgot to put the water in. I knew it was worth it when I lifted the mug to my mouth, sipping the strong brew. Finally, I resolved to return to the bedroom and google abortions for body suits. I felt guilty doing it but, for my own sanity, I needed to keep my options open. I padded slowly back to the room. SIggy’s room was silent which was good. I finally had a chance to get my head straight without any distractions.

I opened up my laptop and opened Google, but I couldn’t do it. Not yet, not with a hangover. Whatever happened, this was a serious decision and needed a clear head, so I decided to distract myself by reading e-mails. I hadn’t checked it since we toured the island with Dagur and Kristjan, which felt like a lifetime ago. Most were e-mails from former work colleagues, which only made me feel more alone. It took me nearly five minutes before I spotted it. “From Rich Dale, re your submission.”

At first I was confused, as I hadn’t submitted anything in ages. A few years before, I had sent my ‘great’ novel to a few publishers and agents. I’ve always wanted to be a writer, ever since I was a kid writing fan fiction and crazy sci-fi stories. I had recently found some of the stories and cringed, thinking ‘well, it’s good that I found something else to do.’ After about a year of getting turned down, I’d given up. Most of the rejection emails were depressingly similar, clearly standard replies. I had continued to write, but only for my own pleasure.

Sipping the coffee, I opened the email. “Dear Ms. Kelly Rogerson,” This confused me, Rogerson was Jamie’s maiden name. “Thank you for submitting your manuscript to us,” it said. Had I sent another one out and then forgotten about it? I thought, ignoring the name on the e-mail to me. “We would be pleased to discuss the possibility of representing you and your novel at the earliest convenience.” I read through it several times, looking to see whether there was an e-mail attached from ‘me,’ but there wasn’t. I checked my sent folder to see if there was any correspondence with this Rich Dale and found none. Then I searched for the name of the literary agency ‘Dale & Associates’ and found two e-mails, the first dated two months ago, right around when I lost my job. I opened it and saw the manuscript for a silly story, “Danelaw,” I’d written for fun earlier that year. I’d never sent it off anywhere. It was just some dumb Scandi-crime-style nonsense, set in the North of England. I’d written it to amuse myself.

The second email was a reply, probably from Rich’s secretary or an intern acknowledging the receipt of the first. It must have been Jamie who sent it. There was no one else with access to my e-mail. I sat there silently looking at the screen reading and re-reading the email.

I gathered my thoughts and started on a reply, which I found impossible. It was ironic, given my job and why I was responding. My first response was a rambling mess. It tried to explain that I was a man, writing under a woman’s name and explaining why I would appear to be a woman. On second read, I realised that I sounded like a lunatic and that this guaranteed that they would reject it. Instead, I sent the following e-mail; it was short and to the point:

Dear Mr. Dale,
Thank you so much for reading my manuscript. I would be glad to meet with you to discuss representation. I am currently away visiting friends in Iceland but I will be back in London from the end of the week. Is there a good time for us to meet next week?

After rereading it a couple of times to make doubly sure I was doing the right thing I hit send. I couldn’t decide how I felt. On the one hand, I was grateful that Jamie had submitted it, since I had long since given up hope. On the other hand, she went into my e-mail without asking me, without telling me. That and I couldn’t figure out why she had made me female, had given me her maiden name.

I finished my coffee and got into the shower. I felt the water hit my body, this body. It felt good and I stopped thinking about it, until I saw my reflection in the mirror. Then I decided that I was going to go back to London. I had time to decide about Jamie and the baby. I needed to meet with this agent.

I sat back down and heard a knock on the door. I opened it and Siggy stood there, with no makeup on.

“How are you feeling?” she asked tentatively.

“Fine,” I said. I started to say something about the agent but decided not to. I knew she meant well but I didn’t trust her not to say something to Jamie, sorry to James. And I didn’t want him to know.

She sat on the bed. “I know you are upset with James but…,” she said.

I held up my hand. “Siggy, no. Not today. I know you’re concerned but I don’t, I can’t, I won’t.” I smiled. “I promise no drinking but I don’t want to hear his name today, OK?”

She looked at me gravely and said, “This is not about him. I am very upset with him too. I just want you to think about your baby.”

I debated what to say next, not trusting her. I decided to test her, figuring what I said next would get back to Jamie. “I don’t know what I am doing about this baby,” putting the emphasis on ‘this.’

She looked shocked, which surprised me. “Please, Kelly. It is your choice, but think,” she said, starting to tear up.

I remembered the books on her shelves and felt awful. Whatever she knew, I assumed that she and Egon were in the same place we were. I started to tear up. “I’m sorry, Siggy,” I said, putting my arm around her. “I don’t know what I am going to do, but I will be careful, I promise,” and I meant it.

“Thank you,” she said. She started to say something and stopped.

“I think I am going to go away for a while,” I said. “I can’t be here.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. I hated lying to her, she had tried to help and protect me, but she was Jamie’s friend, her spy. “I just know I don’t want to be here. Not now.” I reached over to hug her. “I’ll make my way to the airport. Thank you for taking me here.”

She dried her eyes. “I will drive you there. I owe you that much.”

I packed up my bag and took it to her car. We didn’t talk on the short ride. I had a lot that I wanted to say but couldn’t say any of it and Siggy looked like she felt the same way. We got to the airport and I went to take my bag out of the boot. Siggy came out and took her bag out.

She looked sad, “These are some clothes for you. Some of them will fit you now. The rest will fit you if you decide…” and her voice cracked. “At least for the next couple of months.”

I looked into her eyes and saw pain. I realised what the books were. I went to say something and she put her fingers to my lips. “No, Kelly. Don’t. Just please call me, text me when you get to where you’re going. You don’t have to tell me where, I know you won’t, just please let me know you’re safe. And please stay safe. Again, I am sorry.”

I hugged her. It was strange, her being taller than me. My voice cracked as I said, “I will. Sorry you had to be in the middle.” And I was. She didn’t put herself there, Jamie did.

As she pulled away, I went to the counter and bought a ticket to London for a ridiculous price. I needed to get away.

________________________________________

Month 3

Kelly, still stuck in the body suit, returns to London, without Jamie. Jamie leaves Kelly broke. What will Kelly do to survive?
______________________________

The Airbnb flat was large and spacious. The owner had renovated it lovingly over many years. His dad had bought it back in the 70s when property along the Holloway Road was cheap. I was pleased I’d found it at such short notice. I couldn’t go back to our apartment. When Jamie got the part, we sublet it for the three months we’d be in Iceland. We weren’t going to be here and figured that we could save the extra money to cover living and IVF expenses, in case it took me awhile to get back on my feet professionally. Even if I could’ve gone back, I don’t think I would have, at least not yet.

I stood staring at the noisy street below. Cars and trucks thundered past. I wondered where they were going. There was a pile of women’s clothes on the bed. Some were the clothes Siggy gave me and some were Jamie’s that I had retrieved from storage. The rest I had bought from charity shops the first day back. There were also a few bras and panties I’d bought at the airport. These were all white and plain.

My phone buzzed. I looked down and saw it was from Siggy. I read the first line, Jamie wanted to talk. I’d been texting Siggy since I got back, to let her know I was OK but if she was going to pass messages for Jamie, I wasn’t going to reply. I felt bad putting her in the middle but that was her choice.

I tried on the black suit trousers and a blue blouse, but thought it looked too formal. Like I was interviewing to become a temp.

Again my phone buzzed. I looked down, this time it was from a friend from the ad agency. He’d heard I was back and said that Jamie was looking for me. He wanted to know if I was OK. I wished I knew myself.

Finally, I picked up the powder blue summer dress. It was a simple sheath style dress I remembered Jamie buying for our holiday in Croatia. I knew it would strike the right balance. Professional but approachable. I didn’t think I’d be able to feel at ease in a dress though.

There was a long mirror in the corner of the spare room. I examined myself in the dress. Even I had to admit it fitted pretty well. I smoothed the fabric around the belly down a bit. You could just see the beginnings of a bump.

Warm air came in through the open window. Even with the noise and the pollution, it took me back to Dubrovnik, sitting in the little restaurant on a roof top. Watching Jamie as the sun went down, her face bathed in candlelight. I could feel a tear running down my cheek. I had to pull myself together.

I had thought about taking a jacket but, after Reykjavik, London in June felt like the tropics. I picked up a light cardigan and wore it open. No English person can leave the house without some sort of cover. It’d anger the weather gods.

I was still getting used to the sheer numbers of people in London again. Each street seemed to have more people than the whole of Iceland. Because of this, I decided to take the bus rather than risk the tube. I also wanted to look presentable and not drenched in sweat.

It felt good to watch the city pass by from the top of a double-decker. As we passed through Camden, I saw the pubs filled with people. Despite it being a Thursday, the sunshine had brought people out. It made me feel good to watch them. The bus lurched forward at a pedestrian stopping. I felt my hands on my stomach. I rubbed it, feeling the contours of my bump.

For a moment, despair threatened to engulf me. I pushed it down. Meet the agent, I told myself. Get a step forward to achieving one of my life goals, then I could worry about what to do.

I changed at Waterloo and took the next bus on to Brixton. I leaned my head against the window people watching as we went. Many of the men were in t-shirts and shorts, the women in light summer dresses. I remembered coming to Brixton on a number of occasions with Jamie. Most North Londoners rarely travel south of the river but Jamie had acting buddies down here.

Checking the GPS on my iPhone, I kept an eye out for the right stop. The little red pin drew closer and closer. I wasn't the only one getting off at that stop. I had to stand halfway down the stairs, blocked by other passengers both behind and in the front. The bus driver put his foot down on the brake and sent me tumbling into the back of the large man in front of me.

The man turned to me. At first I thought he was going to be angry, but instead he offered me a helping hand.

"Bloody bus drivers," he sympathised with me. I wasn't the first Londoner to be hurled down the stairs by a sudden stop, I wouldn't be the last.

It took me a while to find the offices of Dale & Associates. I had to walk up and down the street three times before I found the right door. Each time getting a little more frazzled and anxious. It was hidden down the side of a three story Victorian style building. The whole building leaned slightly to the left. A common sight in London, the city having been built on a bed of clay.

The intercom had six buzzers in total. One was marked for a graphic design company named A-to-M and another for a TV Production company called Bad Behaviour. Three of the buzzers just had flat/office number. The final one at the top said 'Dale Associates'. I pressed it.

While I waited for a reply, I read and re-read the printed email with the details of our meeting. Despite all my worrying, I was still ten minutes early. I began to think I should have walked around the block. Finally, the intercom buzzed with the voice of a young woman.

"Hello, can I help you?" She sounded young and friendly.

"Hi," I said, my voice was high, even by the standards of the body suit, "My name is Kelly Rogerson, I have a meeting with Rich Dale?" My statement had become a question as uncertainty had overtaken me again.

Silence.

"Sorry, I am a little early," I felt the butterflies in my stomach. I really wanted this girl to like me.

"Not a problem, Kelly," her voice was light and friendly. I felt muscles relaxing that I hadn't realised were clenched. "When you hear the buzzer, push the door. Sorry but we’re on the top floor!"

I was worried the three flights of stairs would leave me a sweaty mess so I stopped before the last corner for a moment to get my breath back. By the time I reached the top, the girl I had spoken to on the intercom was waiting for me.

"Hi!" she said. By my guess she was in her early twenties, probably just out of university. She looked really young to me. I had to remind myself that in the body suit, I looked only a couple of years older. "Is the lift out of order?" She looked a little worried.

"No. Just trying to keep fit." I said. I was just happy I wasn't wheezing.

"Oh tell me about it," she put her hand on my arm. Just two girls sharing. "I thought all those stairs would have been the perfect cardio work out but," she grabs at her entirely imagined love handles, "I guess snacking at my desk doesn't help."

I spent five minutes talking to the girl, Hannah. She and her boyfriend only moved to London last weekend, she had studied Creative Writing at East Anglia. It seemed like we had a bond. Somehow it made me feel less nervous.

Hannah led me into a small waiting room. The furniture was all mid-century modern and very luxurious. Even if it were reproductions rather than originals, it was not cheap. I did the maths in my head. Either the agency were doing well or it had started with an impressive amount of seed money.

On the wall opposite me were a number of photographs, mostly black and white. They showed publicity shots of writers, some holding various awards. I recognised one writer, Sadie something, whose debut novel had just been made into a BBC mini series. The only other photo I was sure of was a man in a rugby shirt. Pretty much everyone with a Kindle had downloaded at least one of his books for their summer holidays.

"Ah, Christopher Bowman," I heard a man say. As he walked into the room, his eyes followed mine. "He's a great client but a bit of a Prima Donna." The man offered me his hand. I tried to get up but nearly tripped myself up on my own bag. In the end, I crashed into him with an awkward stumble and handshake that left me a little closer to him than I had wanted.

"One day, I'll tell you about the scandal Chris got himself into," He gave me a cheeky smile and I couldn't help blushing. I wondered whether I would be the same story to someone years on. If you’re lucky, you will be, I admonished myself. "My name is Rich Dale, very pleased to meet you."

He spoke with an American accent, although I couldn't place the region. He was younger than I expected, perhaps late thirties, maybe early forties. Either way he was in good shape.

"Er, hi." I stuttered. I felt like a teenager sent to the head’s office. It was an odd experience to have another man look me up and down. I was getting used to the looks and stares in public. They almost didn’t bother me anymore. This was more appraising. I guess I would have checked me out.

The thought reminded me that I had twelve messages from her in my inbox. None of which I had responded to.

"Shall we go through to my office?" Rich smiled at me. I nodded, my voice had deserted me. "Hannah, would you mind getting us drinks?"

"Sure," she said, all bright and perky. "What would you like?"

It was like she was Jeremy Paxman asking me a question on Newsnight. I had just clammed up. Luckily, Rich didn't seem to notice.

"Black coffee," I said. At the time it seemed the simplest. I regretted it immediately, coffee was only going to further agitate my nerves. I’d lately been developing heartburn on top of that.

As Rich entered his office, Hannah put a reassuring hand on my arm. "Hey, don't worry," I looked into her open face desperate for reassurance, "He loves your book."

Bless her little shoes. Right then, I'd wanted to be her friend forever.

Rich’s office was large and well lit. On the walls were further photographs. Rich with various clients holding different awards and cheques. I wondered if it would ever be me up there..

“So Kelly,” Rich sat behind his large desk. I smoothed my skirt underneath me as I sat down. “I am so glad you came in.”

I placed my two hands down in my lap, clasping and unclasping them. The body suit forced me to sit up straight and not slouch. I wondered how they had ensured the feminine posture. Such attention to detail.

We talked for some time about the market for new authors, and how long it would take to find a publisher. I had expected him to suggest a small, independent publishers, but he was confident “one of the bigger boys would be interested.” All the time I closely watched his movements. It was as if I couldn’t believe he was real.

“But won’t my book get lost in a publishers of that size?” I quizzed him. He had a boyish face but his sandy hair was receding a little. His eyes lit up when he discussed books.

“Let me ask you Kelly, why do you want to be published?” His eyes bore into me.

“Erm, I don’t know Mr. Dale,” I shrugged.

Before I could continue, he said, “Rich. I’m not old enough to be Mr. Dale.” I smiled. I had forgotten the immediate intimacy with which some Americans expressed themselves. He continued to look at me. I felt like I had failed some sort of test.

I dug deeper, “Erm, Rich. I suppose it’s what I have always wanted, ever since I was a little,” I had to stop myself from saying ‘boy’, “girl.”

Again there was silence. His gaze wasn’t aggressive, but it was unnerving. “When I was young I always felt detached. Perhaps because mum left when I was only little. I was always the observer. By the time I became a teenager it felt like I,” I paused trying to think of the right words, “I had so much inside me but I didn’t know how to get it out.” Right then I was dying for a cigarette, even though I hadn’t had one in years. How strange it was to be talking about mum in front of a total stranger.

“So you found writing?” Rich prompts me with a little smile.

“I guess you could say that. Oh, it was the usual adolescent nonsense. I kept a diary, wrote stories. It just felt like there had to be a reason, you know, for holding so much inside of me. That it was my destiny…” I blushed bright red, “You must think I am incredibly egotistical.”

His smile was reassuring, he seemed happy, “Well you certainly sound like a true writer. Ego and all,” he winked. I felt my face turn even brighter red. He smiled. “You’ll have to get over that,” he said, pointing at my cheeks. “When you’re a successful writer, you’ll have to believe all that.” I blushed further.

“Now, for the boring part,” he said, taking out paperwork. “It’s a standard representation letter. If we place the book, I take five percent of any advances, royalties, etc etc. If there’s promotions that the publishers don’t cover, I will advance what’s necessary and we’ll split the cost.” My eyes must have been glazing over because, with a smile, he said, “I know this is a lot. Why don’t you take it home, read it over and call me with any comments.” He read my mind because he said, “I promise you will receive an advance, a large one. I know the market. If I didn’t think you would get an advance, Kelly, you wouldn’t be here. I just need you to be patient and trust me. Do you trust me?”

I nodded, “Yes, Mr...I mean Rich. I trust you.” I was impressed by his confidence. I never had that sort of confidence. I had read an article somewhere that separated the world into askers and guessers. Askers had the confidence to ask for anything, a raise, a drink, a date. Guessers don’t even put a request into words unless they’re pretty sure the answer will be yes. Dick was an asker. I could easily see him chatting up any woman he fancied. Jamie was an asker. I was a guesser.

Something caught my eye, “Wow, is that Susan Crisp?” I pointed at a photo on his desk.

He smiled, “That’s my wife, Susan, yes.”

“Wow, Susan Crisp,” I said embarrassed by my own fandom.

“You’ll have to meet her soon.”

“What!” I nearly jumped out of my seat, “Susan Crisp, no I couldn’t. She’s… She’ll think I’m just some stupid girl,” I tried to compose myself, “Do you think I really could?”

“So I take it you’re on board?”

I nodded eagerly.

“Good,” he said. “This will be a long and fruitful partnership. The world will know Kelly Rogerson when we get done.” I’d have to figure out how to tell him that my name was Cooper, not Rogerson. I left how to address who I was to another day.

---

I was floating on air all the way home. Nothing could put a damper on my mood. Not the crowds or the lack of air conditioning on the tube. Coming out of Archway, I was wondering what to do with myself. I should call dad to let him know the good news, but then I’d have to explain who I was, why I was like this and where Jamie was and I wasn’t ready to explain all of that. I wanted to call my friends but then I’d be in the same Catch 22 situation, plus the added spice of humiliation.

I figured I’d have a quiet night tonight, enjoy the moment. I was off alcohol of course, at least until I’d made my decision but I could at least treat myself to a take-away. I had a mad craving for the seaweed from the local Chinese. I stopped at the cash machine and typed in my number. A few moments passed and the options came up. I selected cash and £50 and waited for the little whirring sound of the money gods. It didn’t come. Instead, it said, ‘Insufficient Funds’. I used to be familiar with that message, back when I was a new graduate, working freelance and trying to break into writing for TV. I hated that feeling, which is what drove me to copywriting work.

Behind me, a woman was trying to placate her restless children. She didn’t say anything, but I heard her exhale and could feel her eyes burning into me. I tried again, this time for £20. Once again the message came up; ‘insufficient funds’. I tried once more, panic rising, for £10. The same message, more panic. What had happened?

“Excuse me, but are you finished?”

I turned to see the woman. Her words cut with politeness.

“S-s-sorry,” I took my card and almost ran away.

The blood was pounding in my head all the way back to the flat. Could it be internet fraud, maybe I’d underestimated my outgoings? I didn’t want to admit it but even then I knew where the problem would lie. It took me a good half an hour to find that little calculator-like device the bank gave me to generate my login code. My hands were shaking with nerves, so much so that I kept messing up the log-in. In the end, I had to go make myself a cup of tea to calm myself down. It took another two goes but eventually I was in.

The online statement was pretty clear. The account was well in credit until 2:35 pm that day. Then everything had been emptied into another account. The bank account was registered to one James Rogerson.

I called the bank helpline. The woman was very polite but told me that, “it was a joint account and Mr. Rogerson had the right to transfer the funds. I am sorry but you should speak with him miss.” The miss cut through me like a knife, pointing out how weak I had become.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you…” I screamed into her voicemail, leaving off what I wanted to call her, not because I didn’t want to say them, but because I couldn’t choose. I started to say how she stole MY money since, until she got this job, I was the only one contributing funds while she worked at theaters where she couldn’t see the West End for the curvature of the earth, but, as mad as I was, that felt cruel, like I was telling her that everything I had told her over the years about her art was a lie. It wasn’t. I was happy that one of us could pursue our art. Instead, I left a long rambling message telling her how she left me pregnant and homeless and, by the end, I was in tears. I started to type Siggy, to tell her what kind of bitch her friend was. I deleted that message and started to type how I was moving to a shelter since ‘James’ had left me homeless and broke, but decided instead to cut off all communication for awhile. Let them wonder.

When the adrenaline high of “fuck you,” wore off, I collapsed onto the couch, in tears. The flat was only paid for until the end of the week and then I’d be homeless. Female, broke, no job, homeless and pregnant with a baby I didn’t know if I wanted to keep. I turned on the TV, hoping it would distract me. It didn’t. I couldn’t focus. It was like watching TV in Iceland, except this time there were no subtitles. The actors’ voices merged with the noise from the street below. I just laid there as the sun went down, watching the shadows move slowly across the back wall.

Different scenarios ran through my mind. Maybe Rich could find me a deal quickly with a big healthy advance. I knew, from experience, that was unlikely. Even if he got me a deal quickly, new writers rarely got much in the way of an advance. I’d beg Jeremy for work, maybe under an assumed name, but even in desperation, the possible humiliation felt too hard to bear.

My fists balled up, I punched the sofa. It started as a quick thing but then I found I couldn’t stop myself. I pounded and pounded away until the bottoms of my fists were raw and the downstairs neighbour was banging on the ceiling.

I’d never felt anger like that before. It was all consuming. If Jamie had walked in right then, I could have killed her. Or harmed myself. Crazed revenge plots swam through my mind. I’d go down to the clinic right then and get an abortion. After all I needed no money to do it, God bless Nye Bevan.

The computer screen showed bus times and the clinic’s location on Google maps before my mood broke. I scared myself by imagining my child crying out. I knew it wasn’t true but, in my unbalanced state of mind in that moment, I half believed it. Then my own tears came. I lay on the sofa hands on my stomach. I knew then that I was going through with the pregnancy. I needed to find a different solution.

---

I sat staring at Felix's card. It'd taken me the best part of an hour to track it down. In the end I'd found it shoved in the back of my notebook.

What were my options? I had my credit card, at least I didn't think she could do anything about that. But the upper limit was only £1,000 and that wouldn't cover the cost of the flat, at least not for very long. I had about £20 in loose change and about the same again on my Oyster Card. Mercifully, I'd done a big shop just a couple of days ago so I wasn't going to starve.

I could have signed up to a temping agency, but that would take time, not pay well, and I'd have to answer a few personal questions I wasn't sure I was ready to cope with.

I picked up the card and dialled.

The phone rang, and rang. I’d got to the point where I was preparing a voice message in my head...

"Hello," His voice sounded different. Older, more mature.

"Er, hi," I paused, "You may not remember but we met in a club. In Reykjavik a couple of weeks ago..."

I don’t know what possessed me to call him. Of course, he wouldn't remember me! The club had been dark and he we had both been drunk. Besides, it was probably just a pickup line.

"Sure, I remember you. The brunette right?"

"Uh huh," I was a little annoyed at being reduced to a hair colour but I wasn't in any position to complain. "You said if I was ever interested in trying modelling..."

"And you said it'd be a cold day in hell."

"Ha ha," he couldn't see but I was scratching the back of my head, "Well, it might be a good moment to invest in a warm coat,"

Thankfully, he laughed.

"Look, I'm going to level with you. I'm in a bit of a fix and need the money fast." I hated playing the damsel in distress, but there was no way around it.

There was silence. It seemed to last forever.

"You're in luck, I had a model pull out of a shoot just this morning. Ungrateful, but that's the business. It's nothing hard, mostly lying around. a day shoot pays £200."

"That's fine, I'll take whatever." £200 wasn’t going to solve my problems but it was a start.

"Can you be there 4:30am tomorrow?"

"Sure," I didn't know where 'there' was but I knew I'd work it out.

"OK, give me your email and I'll get my assistant to contact you with the details."

I read off my email, "This is so great of you. Thank you sooo much!"

"You can pay me back tomorrow," he laughed . I was so elated that I didn’t think what that might have meant.

As I waited for the email, I looked over his website again. I recognised one set of pics from an ad campaign I'd worked on a few years ago. It’d been for a bank, trying to persuade students to sign up for a life of loans and overdrafts. Most of his stuff was aimed at the younger women, the sort of thing you'd see in Dazed & Confused. Sexy and youthful. I'd always liked the style, although I'd never imagined it'd be me in the photos.

After making a cup of tea, I refreshed my inbox. It had arrived, efficient. The shoot was at some place in Bethnal Green. I didn't know it, but it wouldn't be hard to find. My only problem was how to get there. There'd be buses running at that time but more than one to get there and it’d take forever. It'd only take one to go wrong and I'd be late. I couldn't afford to lose this gig.

A taxi would be quickest, but I didn't fancy risking what little cash I had left. What if they took ages in paying me. I had one last option, the bike downstairs. It'd have to do.

That's how I ended up outside an old warehouse in Bethnal Green at 4am dripping in sweat. The streets were deserted apart from a few drunks and one team of street cleaners I’d passed near Brick Lane. The dress I was wearing was only a light one. I'd picked it expecting to have to get out of it quickly. I was left hugging myself against the cold wishing for more layers. The sweat quickly became clammy, making me even colder.

It was well past 5:30am before anyone else turned up. I'd taken to glancing at my phone every other minute, refreshing the email to make sure I hadn't got the wrong address or time. I stared at that email countless times trying to find some note I'd missed.

"Hey, you here for the shoot?" The woman was tall and looked tired. Everyone looked tired before 6am.

“Er, yes. I wasn’t sure I got the right place.”

“Let me guess. Felix told you to be here at some ungodly hour?”

I nodded.

“I once told him I need the models in extra early, 4am or something. But that time, we had a nightmare makeup job. He tells the girls the same thing every time. I’m never sure if he’s trying to be helpful or just enjoying the power.” She extended her hand to me, “My name’s Ellie. I’m chief makeup artist and kind of the mum around here.”

She led me into the space. It looked large and empty. The walls were brick and floors painted grey. In one corner I could see the lights we’d be using along with some boards and screens. Across the roof were a series of metal bars. I assumed they must have been part of a pulley systems designed to help move goods around. Hanging from them were a number of what looked like fishtails in all sorts of different, and very bright, colours.

“You’ve seen the fish butts then.”

“Er, yes,”

“I take it he didn’t tell you you’d be a mermaid for the day?”

I shook my head. Subconsciously, I eyed the door for escape.

“You’re selling beachwear. Some ad guy thought it’d be fun,” she said, rolling her eyes. I knew exactly what she meant. I’d been in lots of those meetings. “Mermaid for the day. Every little girl's dream right?”

I nodded, missing the sarcasm in her voice. It was 6:00 AM and besides, how would I know? She reached up and pulled one of the fish tails down.

“Green will suit you, I think.”

I gulped.

“I’d go to the bathroom now while you can.”

By 7:30, the place had started to fill up. I sat with my fellow female models watching with trepidation as two of Felix’s assistants filled a large paddling pool. There were others blowing up beach balls and putting up various seaside paraphernalia. Kiss Me Quick hats, that sort of thing.

“I hope the water’s warm,” I muttered.

“No such luck,” The blond girl named Claire replied, “They have to keep it below a certain temperature to stop germs.”

“It could be worse,” joined in Michiko, the other female model. She nodded in the direction of the two male models emerging from the changing rooms. Both wore just speedos and bathing caps.

“At least, it’ll warm up a little when they get the lights on,” I hardly heard Claire’s words as I was distracted by an inflatable palm tree began rising off the floor.

It was gone 10am by the time Felix arrived. His presence changed the feel of the place. People seemed more focused. I wondered if he’d come over and say hi, but he seemed too busy. The first half an hour we sat in silence as he and his assistants checked the lighting levels.

“You know he’s taken me to Paris and Venice in the last couple of months,” Michiko said, looking around to see if we were listening. Claire and I stayed silent. “Jobs like these are fine. Bread and butter,” she laughed at her own joke, if that’s what it was, “but the foreign trips are when you see who he really wants to work with.”

When Michiko turned her back, Claire rolled her eyes. I had to suppress a laugh.

The first set of poses were simple enough. We, the male and female models were given various orders and told to hold various props. Guess who got the ‘Kiss Me Quick’ hat. There were two disciplines involved in the work. The first was physical, to hold a pose, which was harder than most people think. The second was mental. You had to deal with orders being barked at you while resisting the urge to hit the bastard. As we neared lunchtime, Felix started to experiment.

“Alan,” he was speaking to one of the male models, “Do you think you could carry both Kelly and Michiko at the same time?”

“Sure,” Alan spoke in an easy Australian drawl, “How do you want me?”

No one asked either Michiko or myself.

“Kelly over the left shoulder, Michiko under the right arm.”

I was about to say something when one of the assistants began lifting me. I looked over at Michiko, she didn’t look best pleased either.

“Right, now you’ve got them turn with your back to me. Can someone get Claire into the pool? Lets try her with a cigar and drink. I want her in the background.”

Once set up we began shooting.

“Wiggle those tails girls. Alan, turn to your right slightly.” The instructions kept coming.

It turned into a long day. Around 4pm, Felix got his assistants to hang some large fishing next from the ceilings, like giant hammocks above our heads. The three of us girls we dumped in them and then spent another hour or so being told to writhe this way or that. With the ropes digging into my body and the fish tail cutting off circulation in my legs, I’d never been less comfortable.

The worst part of the day was the waiting. For long periods while Felix and his assistants changed the sets around we were left with nothing to do. In our fish butts, it was an effort to even sit up. I amused myself talking to Claire about her nieces and nephews while she scrolled through pictures on her phone. Michiko seemed much more interested in the guys, although I didn’t think they returned the interest.

It was getting on for six by the time we stopped. All three of us girls dashed to the bogs as soon as our legs were released from their prisons. Or at least we tried. My gait resembled a zombie as I tried to make my pins follow my commands. It didn’t matter much, by then we were being completely ignored. Felix and his team were all standing around a laptop going through the day’s work. Everyone else, Ellie and her team were busy packing up. I doubted any of the wardrobe team wanted to stay a minute longer than they had to.

Only the photography crew seemed to be having fun. For the last hour or so they’d been passing around cocktails, all beach themed. I’d also noticed them disappearing into the toilets in twos and threes. They came back with much more energy than before.

One of their team, a skinny lad, came over to me, “Felix wants to know if you can stay for another hour? He wants to do some close ups.” The kid looked like he was only just out of Uni. He wore expensive looking jeans and a fitted long sleeved t-shirt. I caught Michiko’s eye, she didn’t look best pleased.

Honestly, all I wanted at that point was a hot bath and a cold drink.

“He’ll pay you an extra £100.”

Damn. I knew I need the money. Every bone and muscle in my body screamed in opposition, but my brain was thinking about my only other option being crawling back to Jamie. My brain won the day.

“OK,” I sighed, “What does he need me to do?”

The skinny kid held out the green fish bum. I could have cried.

Like Brexit, close ups meant close ups. For the most part, I was asked to lie on the floor while Felix stood over me. There was only four of us left. Felix, the skinny kid and some big guy who seemed to know what Felix needed before Felix did himself.

“OK, imagine I’m some dude with a big fat cock and bank account. Seduce me.”

What a prick. I pouted and tried to imagine I was going into soft focus. He was straddling me now. The feel of his legs pressed against my thighs made me feel queasy.

“You know if they go for these pictures it’ll be a big deal for you. More money, maybe more shoots in New York and Tokyo.”

He kneeled down, his groin pressed against my crotch. The fucker had a hard on.

“Of course, if you want that you’ll have to fuck me.”

My face contorted in outrage and he began snapping away. Seconds later he stood up and I was released.

“OK, I’ve got what I wanted. You get dressed now.”

Did he mean that? Was he just trying to get a reaction? With that, he was off me. The men immediately stopped noticing my existence. No one offered a hand and I had to pretty much crawl behind a barrier to get out of the mermaid costume. I had wanted to ask how quickly I was going to get paid, but the thought made me feel dirty. Instead, I changed as quickly as I could praying that I didn’t start crying. I didn’t want to give the sleazebag the satisfaction. By the time I made it to the door, it was only me and the skinny kid left. I waited nervously to be let out, half expecting Felix to jump at me from out of a shadow.

Once we were out in the alleyway the kid turned to me, “Sorry about him,” he muttered, “he’s a real arsehole.” And with that he was gone. I still had a long bike ride back to Archway to go, but at least I was out of there.

I showered twice at home that night. The first time felt like a release, getting all the dirt and the pollution off my skin, soothing my muscles. I had tried to settle afterwards but I couldn’t, sit still or think straight. It was like someone had downloaded a virus into my brain. During the second shower, I could still feel him on me. I stood there like a zombie not able to think straight. At first I didn’t realise I was crying because of the water from the shower. In the end I had to sit on the edge of the bath because I was crying so much.

---

I stood outside the large suburban house. I’d twisted the handles of the off-licence blue plastic bag around my hand so many times I was running the risk of it snapping. Stupidly, I’d left my credit card at home and the bottle of red had used up a big chunk of the money I had left. Added to that the journey this far south had eaten up much of the credit on my Oyster Card. Still, it was going to be worth it. I was about to meet Susan Crisp, and she was going to work on my book.

I pulled nervously at the hem of my dress. It’d taken me a full two hours to settle on it. Women have so much choice, I hadn’t known where to start. In the end I went with the only thing I knew, that a little black dress (LBD) was considered a girl’s best friend. Standing outside the Dale residence, I was questioning my intel. How out of date was my fashion sense? Would she look at me and wonder what was wrong with me.

A black shadow moved behind the smoked glass coming towards me, like the opening scene to TV adaption of An Inspector Calls. As it reached the door, it became recognisable as a person.

“Kelly, welcome!” Rich opened the door. His smile put me at ease, but only for a second. Behind him was his wife, literary critic and editor Susan Crisp.

“Er, hi,” My mouth was dry. It felt like my throat was trying to throttle itself.

“Come in, come in. We don’t stand on ceremony.” Rich ushered me in taking my coat. He took the wine. “Ah, you didn’t have to, but thanks. Susan, this is Kelly Rogerson.” I made a note to tell him Cooper but right now I couldn’t come up with anything to say, much less something as complicated as my name. “Kelly, this is my wife Susan.”

“Of course I know Susan Crisp. I read your column in the Observer religiously,” I gushed.

She took my hand and smiled, “Book of Common Prayer? Or right to left?”

“I, I,” I babbled. “Er, uh, er, sorry…”

Rich smiled. “Don’t listen to her Kelly, she loves the praise,”

Susan gave her husband a sharp look, and he beat a diplomatic retreat muttering something about a corkscrew. Susan took my arm in hers and pulled me in the direction of the kitchen.

“I must tell you Kelly, I’ve been loving your book.” I wanted to poke her to make sure it was true.

The kitchen was large and clearly expensive. The middle was occupied by a giant island that looked like it’d come from a large West End restaurant. At the far end, it turned into a conservatory with a dining table that could easily fit ten or more people.

“So tell me about your influences? Do I detect Graham Greene, even a little Raymond Chandler? Plenty of Sarah Lund and Lisbeth Salander of course …”

I just nodded, afraid talking would make it all stop. That she’d realise I was an imposter.

“Unusual influences for a woman,” she looked at me shrewdly. I was almost wetting my knickers in panic. She squeezed my arm and said, “Saving it all for the page?”

“Um, uh, sorry. I’m just grateful that you’d even look at my book.”

“Take a deep breath, dear. It’s fine.” I smelled lamb, artichoke and aubergine and my stomach flipped slightly. ‘Please don’t make me throw up here. Please,’ I thought. “I hope you like moussaka. It’s a recipe I learned in Santorini on holiday. Have you ever been?”

“Yes,” I thought of that summer and Fiona, without realising it I blushed.

Rich came in, with the wine and three glasses. “There’s a story there,” he laughed.

“Not really,” I turned an even darker colour red, “Just post-student life. Too much drinking, too much sun,”

“Too much other things as well…” Susan smacked him on the arm.

“I wished,” I answered honestly. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Kelly, no need to thank us. Your book is thanks enough. It’s going to buy a lot of moussaka for all of us,” he said, laughing at his own joke.

Susan looked at me and said, “Ah, Americans.”

He poured three glasses and handed me one. “To Kelly’s book and a long and fruitful partnership!” We clinked glasses. Susan and Rich each drank, while I pretended to take a sip. I tried to find a way to discretely dump it out while no one was looking. Rich’s phone rang. “Sorry to be rude. It’s Chris. Bowman. Let’s see what trouble Chris has got himself in now,” he said, laughing.

He walked out and Susan said, “So let me hear about Kelly Rogerson.”

“It’s Cooper,” I said. “Rogerson is my, er, married name.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How old are you?”

36 and male. Instead, I gave what I decided was my female age. “25.”

She smiled. “Far too young to be married. So, where is the lucky Mr. Rogerson tonight?”

“Not here thankfully,” I said on instinct. She looked at me as if for explanation. “Sorry. He’s in Iceland. He’s an actor. On a movie. A thriller,” I said, in staccato. “That’s what I meant.”

“Sounds like quite a relationship,” she said, checking on the artichoke. OK, I thought, I am woefully inadequate. Every attempt I made at artichoke always tasted like overdone boot.

I smiled. “If this were Facebook, it would say ‘it’s complicated.’”

“Aren’t they all? “

“Er, yeah, I mean he’s the one who sent it to Mr….Rich, sorry. Hard to get used to.”

She laughed. “Try a meeting of the families. I thought my father was going to explode when he met them. Rich is the reserved one.” I laughed and relaxed. While she cooked, she explained what she was doing and talked about my book. “There’s great bones here, as Rich would say. I want to know about Ingrid,” the lead character. “What’s her back story, why is she there, all that. It doesn’t need to be on the page, but knowing that will make it all the better.”

She finished cooking and called Rich in. “That smells great as always. All this and she cooks too,” he said, again laughing at his own joke. I laughed too, maybe a little too loud. I felt like a 5th Former getting to hang out with the cool couple from the 6th Form. Susan took it all in, with the wry cynicism of someone who’s heard it all before, too many times to count. Everything was delicious. Too bad every bite I took made my stomach turned over. I could barely handle the sauce on the moussaka. I took little bites, eating primarily artichoke. It was only thing my stomach could take. We were finishing when Susan said, “Is everything OK, Kelly?”

“Oh yes, it was delicious. I’m sorry. Just a bit of a dodgy stomach is all. Can I bother you for some club soda?”

She smiled and said, “Of course. Rich, go get her a glass of club soda, please.” He left the room and said, “So, when are you due?”

“Excuse me?”

She smiled. “It’s fairly obvious you’re pregnant.” I turned white. “Oh no, you’re not showing, if that’s what you’re worried about, although you shouldn’t be. It’s the other things. You only pretended to touch your wine. You just moved around the moussaka. And you’ve been to the loo three times since you got here which either means you’re pregnant or you need to see a doctor tomorrow about an infection.”

“I am so sorry, Susan. I apologise.” I started to get up. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Why?”

“I, uh, I was rude?” It was all I could come up with.

“Sit.” She put her arm around my shoulder. “You were rude? You’re pregnant. It’s perfectly normal. When I was pregnant with our son, if you had put tomato sauce in front of me,” and she laughed. “I’m guessing that’s what makes your relationship complicated. Doesn’t want to be a father, is that it?”

Well, that maybe. And he tricked me into putting on this suit. And he impregnated me against my will. And I’m a guy and 36. But definitely that too, maybe. This was not the time to go into that; the time was, according to my watch, never. Instead, I sighed and went with, “something like that. This wasn’t exactly planned,” at least not by me. I decided to make a joke. “Sorry to get all American on you.” I adopted a bad posh accent. “Everything is fine. Thank you.”

She laughed. “What does your mum say about this?”

I started to tear up. “That’s complicated too. Or actually it isn’t. She left when I was four and my brother two. Sorry again.”

She pulled me in closer, while I cried. “I am sorry for you. This is too much for a young girl to bear.” Or a not so young man. “Call me if you need anything, not just with the book.”

“Thank you,” I sniffled. “I’m not much of a guest, I’m afraid.”

She laughed. “Please. You should see what Chris does.”

I helped her clear away the dishes. We put them on the counter and Rich started loading the dishwasher. Susan put her arms around him and gave him a quick kiss. I thought of Jamie and realised that, despite everything, I missed her touch.

After coffee (decaf for me, of course) and dessert, Rich and Susan called a car to take me home.

“I can take the overground,” I said.

“Absolutely not,” said Susan. “It’s,” and she paused. “Far too late for you to be going all that distance on the train, plus who knows if a strike started tonight. Besides, Rich will write it off against tax anyhow.”

By the time I got home I was crying again. The taxi felt so lonely. Would I ever have a relationship like Rich and Susan? That mixture of mild annoyance and acceptance that is true love.

In the end, I ran myself a hot bath. The steam and the water soothed me a little but, when I closed my eyes, I could still see Felix’s face looking down at me, or hear Jamie laughing at my state. I dunked my head under the water, feeling its warmth. I wanted it to wash everything away, to make me new.

After pulling myself together and drying off, I sat on the bed, just staring at my phone. I picked it up. I needed help and there was only one person left I could call. I couldn’t call my brother or any of my male friends. I didn’t want them to see me like this. Everyone else I knew were either from work (and I didn’t know them so well) or they were Jamie’s friends. There was just one person left. I looked in my contacts and dialed Fiona.

Nine Months

Month 4

Kelly is a man trapped in a pregnant female bodysuit. His ex has transferred all his money out of their joint bank account and he’s about to become homeless. Who’s he going to turn to?

The outside was nothing special, just a typical late Victorian house in Walthamstow, now split into flats. My heart was in my mouth as the doorbell rang. I could feel it beating even faster as she opened the door. She stood there looking me up and down. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Then she pulled me into a hug and everything was alright. She didn’t say a word, for which I was glad.

Fiona showed me inside. When I had reached out to her initially, she didn’t believe it was me. I can’t rightfully say that I blamed her. I mean if a man had called me and said he was Fiona, I wouldn’t have believed it either. She even seemed leery when I recalled things from Uni that only we would know. In retrospect, I could’ve told some girl all of that before a call. She only accepted it when I told her how Jamie had ordered the nanosuits and that a mistake had been made. I didn’t notice the way she said, “That was some mistake,” with a dry chuckle.

“Over there’s my room,” she said, walking down the hall. I looked in. There was a queen-sized bed, with the sheets askew on one side only. There was a side table with all of the accoutrements I would have expected – book, lamp, a pair of reading glasses. The book was “Days Without End,” the Costa Book Award winner last year. I was proud of what I had written but knew that it would never win any awards. What was striking was how the other side of the bed was immaculately preserved. There was an old IPhone 3 on it along with a watch, a pair of cufflinks and an expired Oyster Card. As if she expected John to walk through the door.

“You’ll be sleeping in here,” she said, showing me a room with a single bed and a television. “The bed’s a little small. If you want, we can switch,” she said, with obvious reluctance. “I remember what it was like when I was pregnant,” which she followed with a small giggle. “I am sorry, Kelly. That was utterly inappropriate, it’s just…”

I smiled, “That’s quite alright, Fi. If it weren’t me, it would be hilarious. This is not the situation I expected to find myself in, and I am utterly in your debt for letting me stay here,” I said, putting down my things. I felt awful. They had moved shortly before everything happened with John and we didn’t come visit enough. We’d go to hospital and I’d call but, now that she was there for me, I realized that I hadn’t been there for her. “I will be fine in here. It’s more than enough,” I said, and then I winced.

“Are you alright?” she said. “Do you need to sit? Sit,” she said, taking me by the hand to the bed.

“I’m fine,” I smiled, “the little bugger is all fluttery.” She rested her hand on my stomach. I was amazed at how many people did this including people I didn’t know. If it were anyone other than Fiona, I would have said something, but she and I had known each other far too long for me to be upset.

“I’m sorry,” she said, with an apologetic smile. “I was remembering what it was like when I was pregnant with Sophie, I mean Matthew. I still cannot get my head around this.”

I smiled and touched my stomach. “That makes two of us. How did she, er, I mean he, tell you? I mean, were there signs?” This was an utterly asinine thing to say, as if transgender children walked around with big signs saying, “I want to be a girl” or “I want to be a boy.” It just seemed like the only thing I could come up with in that instant. I plumbed the depths of my memory to see whether I could recognize any signs that Sophie was not what she appeared to be. To be honest, I never paid much attention.

I remember taking her to the park once. She’d insisted on climbing to the top of all the climbing frames unaided. Even when some of the older kids had shied away. Did that make her a tomboy? Most of the ‘natural’ boys didn’t do it. I would have been too scared. Maybe that was the reason why I was stuck like this?

Over all Jamie and I wanted children but when it came to actual children, I was at a loss. We would see Sophie a couple of times a year, on birthdays and the odd weekend but our visits would consist of us handing her a toy, her perfunctory thank you and then some awkward chit chat (“So what year are you in now? Year 6, ah great.”) Then a pause where we all stared at each other. Then Fi or John granting her and us parole. She struck me as moody, but she was a teenage girl and I assumed that was normal. It wasn’t as if she walked around in boy’s clothes asking to be called Jack.

Fiona sighed, “I’ve spent countless hours asking myself that. I’ve asked what I could have done even though the gender specialist said that it has nothing to do with me. You look for signs like when someone commits suicide.” I didn’t mean to but I must have looked shocked, because she said, “I’m sorry. I love my…child…and want her, him to be happy but I feel a loss. It’s not enough to have lost John but this hurts. I feel,” and she started to cry. I had known her since Uni and could count on one hand the number of times I had seen her cry. When her mum died and obviously when John did, but not beyond that. She had always been the rock. I clumsily tried to hug her but my ever growing stomach made that difficult, so I sort of leaned on her. She started to laugh, “Thank you, Kelly. I needed that. How are you feeling?”

“Well, let’s see, I’m gassy AND constipated,” and with that, I let one go. “Sorry,” I mumbled, while she laughed. “On the plus side, I’m not vomiting every fifteen minutes but I have heartburn if I look at food. My gums are bleeding and oh, my wife, or should I say husband, tricked me into doing this. Sorry, Fi, that was more than you sought, isn’t it?”

“Four months? That’s about right. John used to call me Trumpet, with all the gas,” she said with a sad smile. She tried to hug me from the front, fumbled around, laughed and then sat at my side and put her arm around me. “Have you heard from her at all?”

I dug out my phone and showed her the calls. “HE calls but I don’t answer. I delete the voice mails. I have nothing to say to HIM. I feel…violated.”

She looked at me, “I thought you said that the suits were switched by accident.”

“Well, he knew and didn’t tell me, but he felt it funny enough to tell his friend Siggy when we were there. That leads me to believe this was no accident. I was impregnated without my consent. If this were Kate, would you be so positive?” I paused. “I am sorry, Fi. You’ve opened your home to me and I’ve ripped your head off.” I started to itch. When I was stressed, it felt like the nanos made the pain that much worse. I wanted to tear off the suit but couldn’t bring myself to do it. It would be like killing the baby. It was an innocent victim of a cruel trick and needn’t suffer.

She pulled me closer. “No apologies Kells. You’re right. If it were Kate, this wouldn’t be an issue. I would have forced her to the police. This is new territory for me, especially with Soph…Matthew and all. Tea? It’s best to avoid coffee, you know”

“Do you have club soda?” I asked. “I’m not really in the mood for tea right now.”

We went to the kitchen and she made tea for herself and club soda for me. The kitchen had French doors leading onto a little garden, a rarity in London. I had a couple of biscuits to get something in my system. We talked about our friends from Uni, the weather, bloody Theresa May, anything but the two elephants in the room, Matthew and Jamie. “Perhaps,” I thought, “they could meet and discuss how to best disrupt the world around you.” Then I realised that was unfair. Matthew was a child dealing with what I could only imagine was horrific pain. Jamie was a predator.

We sat for a while and then Matthew came in. I don’t know what I was expecting. Jack Monroe, Conchita Wurst? Someone dressed in a football kit with muscles? What stood before us was a medium sized boy wearing a Smiths t-shirt, boots and black jeans, with his hair shaved on one side and long in the front, drooping over his right eye. He was emo, if that was still a thing. I had long since stopped keeping up with trends. After a certain point, they moved you to copy for adult products, mortgages, Stannah Stairlifts, Scottish Widows, that sort of thing. I’d find myself thinking of how desperate the thirty and forty somethings looked to me at twenty-two, and wondering if that’s the way the interns saw me. Fiona said, “Matt, Kelly will be staying with us for a while.”

He looked me up and down and tried to place me. “Uh hi,” he said in that way teenagers do when introduced by their parents to a strange adult. I could see him calculating how long he had to stand here and make idle conversation before he could ask to be excused. I wanted to tell him that it was good practice for life.

“Do you remember Kelly?” Fiona asked.

“Should I? Sorry, I don’t,” he apologised to me.

I smiled. “I wasn’t pregnant the last time. And I was male.” I watched as a light slowly turned on. He broke into a smile. It struck me that smiling was not something with which he had much acquaintance of late.

“Oh, Uncle Kelly!”

“Yup.”

“So you are a girl now.”

“A woman S-Matthew,” Fiona said. “Not a girl. A woman.”

I appreciated Fi sticking up for me, but it felt weird.

“You look different,” he said, the smile not leaving his face. I felt ridiculous but didn’t say anything. I imagined that he and Fi didn’t spend much time laughing these days.

“Ha ha Matthew.” I almost said, ‘so do you,’ but felt that cruel and bad practice, if I were going to be staying here. “Yes, I am pregnant. This is a nano suit. I was given it by mistake and, well, thank you for letting me stay here.” I thought about not saying anything but he knew me and he was fifteen. His school would have covered pregnancy in Sex Ed years ago, and thus he knew how babies were made. If I didn’t give an explanation, well, that could get awkward.

“I apologize Uncle..er, Aunt..er, Kelly, but I have a maths exam coming and I need to study. I’m down the hall, if you need anything,” he said. I heard the door close.

Fi shook her head and smiled, “Well, that’s more than I get most days. I’m really at a loss. So what do you think?”

“What do I think about what?” I asked, scratching at my arms. I made a note to ask Fi for calamine lotion before I made myself bleed.

“S-Matthew?” She said, giving me the sort of look she reserved for our friend Thomas. At Uni, we’d been part of a pub quiz team and he was the weakest link.

“He seems like a fine young man. Polite. I could live without that haircut but otherwise a nice kid,” I said with a smile.

FI seemed unsatisfied. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Look at me, Fi. I’m not really in a state to question someone’s identity, am I?” What I was surprised by was his body type. I expected, I don’t know, someone heavier as if to compensate for wanting to hide his female body.

As if reading my mind, she said, “I suppose s-he’s fortunate. He took after John’s side. They’re all thin hipped.” When we were at Uni, Fi was gorgeous. I remember a group of us going on holiday to Greece and her drawing stares on the beach. She was still gorgeous, but we all had gotten older, plus she had John and Matthew to deal with on top of that. I admired her for getting out of bed in the morning and felt bad to be judging her, especially given my situation. “That’s enough. How are you doing?”

I gave the only answer I could. “I don’t really know, Fi. Needless to say, of all of the outcomes for my life I could have predicted, this was not among them. I’m certainly angry.”

“You should be. She really left you broke?” I had to tell Fi. Otherwise, what was my reason for staying?

“Yup. She took the money from our joint account and switched it to her own. She’s decided it’s not enough to trick me into this, to impregnate me, she needed to leave me without funds,” and I started to cry. I knew it was the suit but I still felt embarrassed. “Sorry, Fi,” I sniffled.

She looked angry. “For what?”

“For crying. For burdening you with my problems. You must not think much of me.”

“Kells, I think the world of you. You did nothing wrong. You were violated. Full stop.” Then she smiled, “As far as the crying, I cried constantly when I was pregnant. At nothing. At adverts. For McDonald’s.”

I laughed. “Well, they can get quite sentimental. Seriously, Fi, I feel like a freak. I can’t thank you enough for taking me in. I hope I don’t create a problem for you with anyone.”

She looked at me gravely. “Why would you create a problem? As far as anyone knows, you’re another pregnant woman. If you don’t mind me saying, it agrees with you. You look beautiful. Sorry if that’s weird.”

What was weird was that I wasn’t entirely bothered. That a part of me, a growing part of me, liked that. I had started to show and I found myself liking my reflection. I had been examining my life often, and not just the here and now. I found myself reflecting on my entire life. Was there a part of me that didn’t want to remove the suit? Why didn’t I fight it before we left for Iceland? Would a real man have allowed the trick to continue?

I had never been the most masculine of boys. It’s not that I was outwardly feminine like Anthony Guest, who would play hopscotch with the girls. Rather, I was the sort of boy who avoided physical contact and was picked last for football. S-Matthew would climb to the top of the climbing frames. I would not have. My friends would race to the top, challenging each other to go higher. I would timidly climb up to the lowest permissible height that would allow me to avoid taunting. Intellectually, I knew that I was being ridiculous. There was no causal link between S-Matthew climbing and his desire to be a boy nor my desire not to and my being here, I knew that. Yet, I couldn’t stop looking for signs. It was easier than looking within.

The next morning I woke early. I lay still listening to the sounds of the house. I could feel panic rising but couldn’t place a specific cause. Eventually I heard the whispered voices of Fi and Matt coming from the corridor. It made me sad to think of them feeling like they had to keep quiet in their own flat, so I decided to get up.

“Hey,” Fi smiled at me.

“Hey,” it felt weird to run my hand through the mass of hair on my head. I still expected it to be short.

“Do you need the bathroom? I’m afraid it gets a bit busy this time of morning. He likes his long showers.”

“No, I’m fine. Do you want coffee?”

I caught the worried look on Fi’s face.

“Decaf for me, obvs.”

She let out a little laugh, “Yeah, if you sure you can bear to make it but not drink it?”

“I’ll make do with pretend coffee and the fumes.”

There was dew on the grass of the garden as I opened the French windows. I took one of the plastic garden chairs and used a tea towel to wipe it clean. The plastic felt cool though my thin pyjama bottoms.

“Hi Aunty Kells.”

I turned to see Matthew standing there. He looked younger in his school uniform.

“Hi Matt, what’s up?”

“School,” he didn’t sound best pleased.

“It must be nearly summer holls,” ‘holls’? I was talking to him like he was a little kid.

“Two more weeks.”

“Nearly there. Will next year be your final year?”

He pulled up another plastic chair, wiping of the dew with his hand, “Yup,” he looked away.

I remember how desperate I was to leave school at his age. I also remember the fear of what would come next.

“FE College is way better, believe me. Most of the dicks are doing Sport Science.”

He laughed. It was a pleasure to see his face lit up.

“Don’t tell your mum about the swearing.”

He tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. We both laughed.

“What’s got into the two of you?” I turned to see Fi.

“Just enjoying the sun.”

“Have you seen a doctor yet, Kells?”

I hadn’t really thought about that. To be honest, it was too much to think about, just being pregnant. “I guess I just thought the nanosuit would take care of it,” I mumbled, realising how stupid that sounded.

She looked at me and laughed, “At least you realise that’s asinine. I’m making you an appointment. I have no idea how these suits work but I know pregnancy. You need an check-up.” She noticed the look of horror on my face and said, with a smile, “it’s not that bad. I’ll come with you and hold your hand. But you need to do this.”

“Yes, mum,” I said, as she punched me on the upper arm.

The flat felt empty once they had left. I knew there was an email waiting for me from Susan. The first rewrites. It was exciting to get the chance to work with someone as good as her. I also knew there was an email waiting for me from Jamie.

The flat was messy. Not unclean but untidy. I guess what you’d expect for any household with a fifteen year old. I could do a little tidying, a way of saying thanks to Fi and avoiding catching a look at Jamie’s email. I decided I’d spend the morning cleaning and then face the outside world after lunch.

With the French doors open and 6 Music on the DAB radio the morning passed quickly. I didn’t have any problem with housework. After mum left us, I’d helped my dad out around the house. He’d made it a ‘team’ thing with music and jokes. Thanks to his positive reinforcement, I found it almost meditative.

I’d been picking up clothes as I went so I figured I’d put a wash on. After that, I was sweaty and dusty so I showered and changed. I had some of Siggy’s old clothes but putting those on reminded of me Jamie and what she did. Thankfully, Fi had let me borrow some of her pregnancy clothes for her time with Matt. Most were too big, I had that to come, and she was a little taller than me now. I found a pair of dungarees that fit OK if I rolled the legs up a little. They were on the baggy side, but that was good for me.

I spent a futile ten minutes trying to pin my hair up. Eventually I gave in and YouTubed it. I was shocked at the number of different options to choose from. But I felt pleased with myself when I managed to pull of a simple bun without rebel strands breaking free.

Right I told myself, it’s time to just do it. Like ripping off a plaster in one. I opened up Jamie’s email. I didn’t even read it properly. I skimmed catching fragments like, “I had to do it, you left me no choice…” and “It’s my child was well…”

The sad thing was that I was missing her like hell. If she’d emailed apologising, she might have got me to buy a flight to Reykjavik there and then. All I wanted to do was curl up and hide, but I told myself no. I wasn’t ready to face Susan’s revisions just yet, but I needed to set myself a task.

Dinner, that’s it! I’d cook for them. I still had my credit card. At least I didn’t think Jamie had a way of cancelling it. I’d go out get ingredients.

Walthamstow has two options for food shopping. Thankfully, both were in a short walk from Fi’s flat. The first was the Village, a cute couple of roads and a little church that where all that’s left of the original village that was swallowed up by the city. The second was the market and the mall, a dystopian landscape with a square dominated by a giant 1984-esque TV screen. The supermarket in the mall was much cheaper and I didn’t know when I’d get the modeling money or when my next pay cheque would be so, visual be damned, I headed in that direction.

It was a Monday so, along with a few young mums and the elderly, I had the supermarket to myself. I was away in my own little world trying to remember if Fi had said anything about what Matt liked when I felt a hand on my belly.

“How far gone?”

I looked into the smiling face of an elderly woman, “Erm, this is the fourth month.”

She kept her hand there, “Is he kicking?”

“No. I mean yes, a little. Moving around mainly.” I didn’t want to think about it.

“He’ll be a big one,” her accent was genuine Cockney. You rarely heard it nowadays.

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“Shows,” she smiled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Who’s your friend, Jenny?”

I turned in horror to see three more older women joining us. Hands moved around touching my belly, not one of them asking my permission.

“I had to stand there listening to a long list of ailments,”

Fi laughed, “You’re an expectant mother. I’m afraid some people believe you belong to the world now.

“Is there really such a thing as pregnancy piles?”

“Afraid so,” she gave me a hug.

“God really is a guy then.”

“I can’t believe you did all this,” Fi looked around the kitchen, “And cooked as well.”

“It’s just sweet potato chili, nothing much…”

“Lucky me, I’ve always wanted a wife,” she smiled and walked off to check on Matt.

‘Wife’ I thought. Was that how I had acted? I suppose. I tried to reassure myself. Most of the couples I knew shared the domestic duties to a certain extent. That said I hadn’t really thought about it and just ended up taking on the domestic duties. Right then I really wished I could indulge in a glass of wine (or a whole bottle).

---

"I'm really not sure."

"Come on, it'll be fine."

I wasn't convinced. No matter how much Fi smiled.

"You've met Jenny and Anjali before."

"Not like this." My hands fell on my swollen belly.

"Don't be paranoid. Anyway you love pub quizzes."

It was true. That's how we got to know each other, through the Student Union's weekly quiz. I'd seen her in my Media Studies lectures, but hadn't built up the confidence to go and talk to her. Then one random Thursday evening, we'd ended up sitting next to each other after both of our teammates failed to turn up. I'd impressed her with my knowledge of European capitals and 1980s cartoons. She wowed me with her knowledge of Dutch Renaissance art.

I grumbled under my breath as we entered the Fox and Hounds. The pub still had its beautiful Victorian bar and features, but had otherwise been done up in the hyper-trendy style of the East End. On the wall were propaganda posters from the WWII. Their messages of stoic resistance contrasting with the opulent, early 21st century decadence. Frankly the way things were going a German invasion didn’t sound so bad.

Anjali was standing by the bar. She'd put on a little weight since becoming a mum, but was still the same smiling South Asian woman I remembered from Uni. Next to her was a tall blond woman who seemed completely at ease with herself. In a t-shirt, fitted jacket and jeans, she looked effortlessly cool. I knew that to look that effortless took a lot of effort - and money. I may have been new at this game but I figured there were a few designer labels discreetly tucked away.

"Hi lovely," The blond woman made an exaggerated show of putting her arms around Fi. "You look great, have you lost weight?"

Anjali returned my sheepish look. I hoped we'd be let in on the conversation soon.

"Beatrice, this is Kelly. The friend I was telling you about."

Beatrice looked me up and down. She was smiling but I still felt awkward.

"Kelly, look at you! How far gone are you?"

She put a hand on my stomach. I had to fight the urge to pull away.

"Only four months," I mumbled.

"Four months, you look further on."

Hmmm, I held my tongue.

"We've got a table," Anjali pointed to a corner where I spotted Jenny for the first time. She gave us a little wave.

"I was going to get us a bottle of white to share. ABC of course!" Beatrice looked only at Fiona when she spoke.

"Well Kelly..." Fiona said.

"Don't be silly, you guys share. I'll just get a lime and soda." I didn't want them to think I was a heel.

Beatrice placed a hand on my arm but still didn't look at me directly, "Where did you find such a great team player?"

I tried to hide my envy as she doled out the wine. I distracted myself by watching the pub quizmaster as he walked between the tables. It was two pounds each to enter, the winning team taking the whole pot at the end. He was tall and looked like he spent time in the gym. Normally I’d have hated him for his easy good looks but now it didn't seem to matter. After all I was benched. No horse in the race to mix a metaphor.

"Hello." He brushed a strand of hair from his eyes. Even Beatrice had stopped talking. To my surprise he turned to me, "Are you all in?"

"Ur, yeah. I think so."

He was smiling at me. I felt hot, unable to sit comfortably in my seat.

"Do you have a team name yet?" He placed a couple of sheets of paper on our table and a pint mug full of pens, "Do you need a pen?"

I just nodded, struck dumb. The way he was looking at me was creeping me out. I knew he had done nothing wrong. It just felt wrong to me.

"Well, well, well. I hope Kelly's husband doesn't find out." Beatrice's mouth smiled but her eyes wished me a painful drawn out death.

“Don’t listen to her,” Jenny looked amused. “Bee’s just annoyed the dishmaster was looking at you rather than her. Normally she gets the pen.” She put an emphasis on the word ‘pen’.

“Anyway,” Beatrice gave her friend a dirty look, “I’m sure Kelly’s husband isn’t the jealous type.”

"Kelly is separated." There was force behind Fiona’s words. It almost made me blush.

"Really," all the women turned to look at me. That time I really did blush.

"Kelly's husband James got her pregnant without telling her." The three women gasped.

"What!" Jenny said.

"That's horrible!" Anjali said. “What a bastard.”

Bee smirked. “How does someone get you pregnant without telling you?”

Before I could say anything, Fi shot her a dirty look and said, “Enough Bee.”

"But you decided to keep it?"

I nodded. I really didn't want to get into this.

I didn't speak again and barely made eye contact until a young man came up to our table. He was carrying a basket, it looked heavy.

"What's in there?"

"Pumpkins. The Pumpkin carving round was a big hit at Halloween so we decided to give it another go."

"They always have one mad round," explained Fiona, "A couple of weeks ago they had a biscuit crumb tasting. You have to guess what the biscuit were from the crumbs. Harder than you think."

"Here," Beatrice pushed the pumpkin in front of me, still not looking at me. "Fiona says you are the artistic type."

"Writing," I murmured but Beatrice was already talking to Fiona about something that had happened at work.

Anjali leaned into to me, "I'm sure you'll do brilliantly."

I wasn't. I thought back to my half-baked attempts at art at school. One time at primary school, I knocked over a jar of dirty water that was used to clean the brushes, and ruined everyone’s pictures. I don’t think I ever enjoyed art after that.

"OK, round one." The quizmaster's voice came over the little speakers. "Lets see what your remember of this week’s news. And we start with Brexit..."

The room was filled with loud boos.

I noticed how serious everyone became around our table. I was able to help out a little bit; for instance I knew all about Beyonce's new album. For the most part I sipped my drink and watched Fiona and Beatrice answer the questions. I thought it was funny how two successful career women put so much energy into naming the Australian city where a teenage boy jumped into a crocodile infested river to impress a girl.

By the second round, the girls were ready to order another bottle of wine. Anjali and Jenny were careful to apologise to me. I waved them away smiling, although a little part of me was regretting coming to a pub. I wondered where Jamie was. Perhaps she was enjoying a drink with Siggy and Egon?

Rather than mope I decided to focus on my pumpkin. I had a plan. First I cut out two tiny eyes and then a small, angry mouth. As the others focused on the questions, I used the blunt knife they’d given us to cut off the top, turning it inside out so the scraggly orange bits were on the top.

The third round was where I came into my own. Match the song to the 80s movie soundtrack.

"Karate Kid," I whispered to Fiona for the last question.

"Bloody hell, how did you get them all! I don't even remember half the films."

"Well the Breakfast Club and Ghostbusters were easy..."

"But Flight of the Navigator wasn't," Anjali added. I noticed that Beatrice had her arms crossed.

"So what have you carved?"

I turned suddenly to see the dishmaster standing behind me. He passed me a tea light candle as I sat there with my mouth open.

I placed the candle inside the pumpkin, "Voila, President Trumpkin!"

"Argh!"

"Yuk!"

"Ugh! But also brilliant," Fiona was beaming at me. Beatrice seemed to be looking away, for some reason.

All the tables had to walk around and vote on each other’s pumpkins. I stayed with ours for obvious reasons. As people walked past, I joked, "For the love of god don't vote for him!" And, "Surely there's a more qualified female pumpkin you can vote for!"

In the end we came third. Trumpkin won his election, both in the popular vote and the Electoral College (whatever that was). Not bad, a podium finish on my first go. The pub emptied after the quiz was over. Jenny and Anjali had young families to get back to. Beatrice disappeared to talk to some friends she had spotted. Fiona and I decided to retire to the comfortable sofa near the window. It was a relief to be able to lean back.

"See, not too bad." Fiona smiled at me.

"Yeah, actually this was exactly what I needed. To come out and see the world isn't all sore breasts and bad backs."

"I'm glad you finally realised it," Fi said.

Beatrice came over, her friend at her side. "It must be nice Kerry,"

"It’s Kelly," I said. “What must be nice?”

"Sorry, 'Kelly.’ It must be nice to be able to go out of the house looking such a mess.” I saw her friend suppress a smirk.

I wanted to say something back. Normally I would have, but all my confidence had left me. I looked down at what I was wearing. A baggy t-shirt and comfortable jeans. The slip on shoes Fiona used for gardening. I hadn't thought I looked that bad but at that moment I saw every food stain and crease.

"I think she looks radiant," I felt Fiona's hand on my knee. For a moment I remembered the stories at Uni about Fiona having a girlfriend in the first year. I hadn't paid it much attention at the time, there were always rumours about everyone. Anyway, it hadn't been long until John came along.

Beatrice shocked me by putting her hand on my stomach, "'He' certainly does." With that, Beatrice and her friend left.

"Y-you told them?"

Fiona tried to say something but I was already off. Not that I could move at much speed right then. My vision was already blurring with tears by the time I reached the door.

My face was in my hands. My bum on the metal of the old Victorian bench.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that."

"Sorry! How could you betray me like that. You are no better than Jamie!"

I could feel Fiona waiting for me to calm down, which only made me madder.

"I didn't tell her," Fiona's voice sounded patient, "She's a lawyer so she knows how to spot the details. She figured it out from something Anjali said.” Anjali must have figured out it was me which made sense, as much sense as anything now did. Was it that obvious? “You know I wouldn't do something like that. Not to my friend."

As she spoke I knew it was true. I hadn't trusted her, after all she had done for me. This made me feel even worse.

"I'm just some stupid freak,"

I felt her come sit beside me.

"No you’re not." Her arm came around my shoulders. Without thinking, I leaned in and rested my head on her shoulder. I needed the comforting.

"Look women like Beatrice," she paused, "I mean, I love her, but..."

"But?"

"They spend their whole lives competing with other women. Maybe they got too much attention when they were younger, maybe too little. I don't know. You just can't take it all too seriously."

"Uh huh," I sniffled. I wasn't in the mood to forgive Beatrice.

"Society pitts us women against each other. We have less than the men but we are expected to fight for our share of the scraps. It makes some of us mad, and others mean."

I smiled a little. She had referred to me as one of them. It made me feel a little less like a freak.

“Sorry Fi. You’ve been nothing but kind and I took your head off.”

She smiled. “It’s the hormones. Yours and hers.”

---

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” I feebly protested, as we stood at the entry to the gynecologist’s office. I was wearing a white blouse over leggings that Fi had bought me. She said that it was important to wear them to prevent varicose veins. Great, I thought, on top of everything else, I could look forward to that. It wasn’t enough that I had heartburn and there was fluid leaking from my breasts, now I could add something long lasting like varicose veins.

Fi looked at me and said, “You’re being ridiculous, Kells. You need to do this and you know that.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m just nervous. I mean I’ve never been to an obstetrician before much less been a patient.”

“Really? When you and she were trying, you never went?” I had noticed that, as of late, Fi had ceased to refer to Jamie by name, just as ‘she’ and ‘her.’

“I mean I went, but I just met with the doctor after. I wasn’t there for the process or anything.”

She gave me a patient, indulgent smile. “We’ve been through this. You’ll put on the paper gown, get onto the table, put your feet in the stirrups…” Fi had had me practice keeping my feet in the stirrups by moving two chairs into her bedroom and having me put my legs on them. It was uncomfortable but when I suggested the bedside tables, she blanched. “Then the doctor will take over. Be careful, the speculum can be really cold.” She had to explain what a speculum was to me. Yet another sign, god was a man.

“I’m nervous. Someone will realise I’m not a woman and then what?”

“Would you stop? No one will notice anything. You’re a beautiful woman, Kells. That’s all anyone will see. The old biddies in the shops keep asking me about how my sister-in-law is doing and they’d be the first to notice.” We had crafted a story whereby I was John’s younger sister. My husband was overseas working and Fi had very generously offered to let me stay. She was right. Whenever I went to shop, they all surrounded me and asked me questions. “Now come on. Let’s go,” she said, taking my hand.

We walked into the office and, as expected, it was full of pregnant women, some alone and some accompanied by their husbands. Some smiled at me and others looked up briefly from their phones and then went back to them without giving me a second glance. We took a seat next to a young couple, who looked to be in their late twenties. They looked me up and down and I realised that, to them, I must have looked like a young girl on her own.

The wife gave me a smile. “How far along are you?”

“Er, four months, more or less,” I said. “You?”

“Six and a half,” she said, patting her belly. I noticed how much bigger hers was than mine and felt a strange jealousy. I guessed that, somewhere under here, I was still a guy. It was still all about who was bigger.

I didn’t know what to say. Should I say ‘you look beautiful’ or is that weird coming from another pregnant woman? ‘What are you having?’ ‘What should I look forward to?’ I was tongue tied around women before and this made it no better.

Thankfully, the woman saved me. “Is this your first?”

I involuntarily smiled. “Yes. You?”

The husband gave a smile. “It is.” Then he turned to Fi. “Congratulations.”

I was confused until I saw Fi stifle a giggle. Great, they think we’re a couple. I mean that was my dream at Uni but not quite like this. I didn’t know what to say. It’s not like I could explain the nanosuits and Jamie. ‘You see, I’m actually a 36 year old man whose wife, who’s now a man, ordered nanosuits and one thing led to another….’ That would be weird. Unlike this.

Fi said, “Why thank you. You too,” and she squeezed my hand.

They called the couple in. “Good luck,” the wife said.

“Thanks,” I said. “You too.”

As they went into the office, Fi laughed then whispered, “See, no one knows anything.”

“Great. They think we’re a couple.”

She smiled, “Is that so bad? You could do worse, you know.”

I laughed. “I know. This is just all a little strange is all.” I decided to play with her, “Thank you for coming dear,” I said, putting my head on her shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an older woman, who was there with her daughter (granddaughter?), give me a dirty look. ‘Fuck her,’ I thought. ‘We have just as much a right to be happy as anyone.’
“Of course, Kells. I’m actually excited. It’s strange to be on the other side of the table, as it were.”

The nurse brought us in. “OK, dear,” she said, handing me a paper gown. “Get undressed and put this on.” Then she handed me a specimen cup. “And we’ll need a sample. To check your sugars.”

I got undressed. It was getting harder to reach my shoes and I was glad Fi told me to wear slip ons. I went into the bathroom to undress and give my sample. I came out, holding the cup with one hand and trying to hold the gown closed with the other. “This is embarrassing.”

Fi smiled and moved the hand holding the gown. “Give it up,” she said, laughing. “It’s hopeless. You’ve really never done even this before?”

“No. Why would I?”

She looked down. “I guess when we went through all the tests with John, he…”

I felt like an ass. How could I not realise that? He would have had to. “I’m sorry, Fi. I feel awful. I totally…”

She wiped away a tear and then put up her hand. “Please, Kells. It’s OK. You’re getting pregnancy brain,” she said, with a big grin.

“Shut up,” I said. “That’s not for real, is it?” She just smiled at me.

The nurse came in and said, “Stick out your arm.”

“Ow!” I screamed, as she stuck in the needle. “Warn a g..girl, why don’t you?”

She looked at me. “Haven’t you been through this already, dear?”

Fi jumped in. “This is her first appointment.”

“Really?”

“I was in Iceland,” I stammered. “I didn’t realise that I was….oh never mind. Sorry.” The nurse looked at Fi, shook her head and walked out with my blood and urine.

The doctor came in. She was South Asian. She looked too young to be a doctor but then I caught my reflection and realised that I looked too young to be a mother. “Hi, I’m Dr. Patel,” she said, looking at the chart. “You must be Ms. Cooper,” she said, offering her hand.

“Yes, uh hi. And this is Fiona, my….friend.”

Dr. Patel smiled and shook Fi’s hand. “You don’t need to mince around it with me. Congratulations, you two.” Fi smiled at me. “So, the nurse tells me that this is your first prenatal visit. How far along are you?”

Fi jumped in. “She’s about four months.”

The doctor shook her head. “Ms. Cooper, that’s not good,” she said, in the tone you use with a misbehaving child. “You should have come sooner.”

I mumbled. “I didn’t know and then I didn’t know what I was going to do. Oh, and I was in Iceland.”

She smiled indulgently and shook her head. “Well, you’re here now. So hop up on the table and put your legs in the stirrups.” I did as I was told I never felt more vulnerable. You’re lying there with your legs spread open wide in your paper gown and you realize that there is nothing protecting you and no way to protect yourself. Add to that that I was broke, female and that the woman I loved was 2300 miles away. I didn’t know if I ever wanted to see her again but I wished she was here.

Then, Dr. Patel stuck in the speculum. “Ooh,” I said, “that’s cold.”

She smiled at Fi and said, “Sorry, Ms. Cooper. There’s no need to be nervous,” she said. Then she put her hands on my belly. I supposed that I should have been used to it from the village but it felt different when done by a professional. She got a concerned look on her face.

“Is everything OK?”

She smiled. “Yes, sorry. Sometimes, I get ‘resting bitch face’ when I’m checking. I need to work on that. I was just checking your fundal height.”

“Er, fundal height?”

She smiled. “It’s the distance between your pubic bone and your uterus.” Of course, everyone knows that. I wondered if Jamie knew. “There’s this thing called the Internet now. You should try it. Sorry.”

Fi laughed. “I’ve been telling her that, doctor.” She hadn’t. “She never listens.”

“Everything looks OK. From your fundal height, I’d estimate that you are in week 15.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t notice missed periods? Were you regular before?” Yes, I was regular. Until 15 weeks ago, I never had one, thank you very much.

“I, uh...oh never mind.” Dr. Patel and Fi laughed.

Then she moved over what appeared to be a sonogram machine. I recognised it from when I had torn my meniscus. “OK, so now we are going to check for the baby’s heartbeat.” She squirted some goo onto my stomach and I flinched. “Sorry about that,” she said. “If women designed it, it’d be warmer. Here we go,” she said.

I heard a thumping noise. “What’s that?” I said.

Dr. Patel smiled. “That is your baby’s heartbeat.”

It was suddenly very real. There was baby inside of me. Yes, it was technically the nano-suit but it was me. I was having a baby. If I had any doubt about keeping it, that went away when I heard the heartbeat. This was a baby. I begrudge no one that choice but my decision was finalised then. The heartbeat sounded rapid. “Is everything OK? It sounds fast.”

Fi smiled. “That’s normal Kells. When I was pregnant with Matt,” and I noticed that she was able to say that without hesitation, “I thought the same thing. Right doctor?”

Dr. Patel smiled. “Absolutely. Your baby sounds fine, wonderful.”

I started to tear up and Fi put her arm around me. She gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Amazing, isn’t it?” she said.

Dr. Patel said, “So let’s talk about what’s going on. We are going to run a series of tests on your blood and urine. The urine is to check protein and sugar levels, to make sure you don’t have gestational diabetes and pre-eclampsia. We’re going to run an alpha-fetal protein test on your blood to make sure that there’s no issues, Down’s Syndrome, trisomy 18, those sort of things.” I suddenly got very nervous. What if the baby had Down’s? I may have looked 24 but I was 36 and Jamie 39. Was I at risk? Dr. Patel smiled, “The risk increases over 40, so you have a long time before you have to worry about it. If there are any concerns and,” she saw the look on my face, “I don’t expect any, you’ll have amniocentesis, although again at your age, I don’t see any problems.”

“Again,” she said, scolding me. “I’m not happy that it took you this long to come in, but thankfully everything looks OK. Your blood pressure is fine, the heartbeat is fine, so I’m not too worried.” She took her prescription pad and wrote something down. She handed it to Fi, “These are prenatal vitamins I want her to take. You’ve been through this before and she’s young, so I’m counting on you to make sure she does it.”

Fi smiled, “I will, doctor. Right, honey?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, dear.”

Dr. Patel laughed. “Have you been feeling movement yet?”

I smiled, thinking of the heartbeat. “Mostly, it feels like fluttering. Like butterflies in your stomach come to life.”

“Well, you can expect him or her to start moving around a lot more soon. If it gets too bad, try laying on your side with a pillow between your legs.”

“Uh, OK…”

“We should have the results in a week or so. The nurse will call you and I want to set up your 20 week appointment now. I don’t mean to be a scold but you’re lucky. Let’s not be lucky. Let’s be safe. At the next appointment, we’ll do the full ultrasound.”

“You mean where you see the baby?” I said, suddenly excited.

She smiled. “You’ll see everything, even the sex if you want to know.”

I started to tear up. “Sorry, it’s just so….”

Fi gave me another kiss, tenderly on the cheek. “It is, Kells. It is.” We made the follow up appointment and left.

“That was amazing, Fi! Wasn’t it amazing? It was. I can’t believe it. Did you hear it?”

Fi smiled. “It’s amazing Kells.”

“Thank you for coming, Fi. You didn’t have to.”

She kept smiling. “Someone had to get you here. Besides, I wouldn’t have missed it. I remember when it was me, when I heard it. I couldn’t believe that there was this person inside of me. I mean you know it intellectually and you feel the morning sickness and the gas and everything but then you hear the heartbeat and you realise that you have this little person in you.” I was surprised to see Fi get so sentimental. She loved Matt but she wasn’t one for sentiment. I didn’t remember it from when she was pregnant but, then again, maybe I wouldn’t have noticed.

I smiled, thinking about what she said. “I know. There’s this person and,” I started to think of Jamie and began to cry.

She moved me to a bench and sat me down. I began crying into her shoulder. She put one hand on my stomach and the other rubbed circles on my back. “Let it out, Kells. It’s OK.”

“I miss her. I know I’m an idiot but I miss her. She should be here.”

“I know, Kells. But I’m here. S-Matt and I are here for you and we’ll be here for you.”

I smiled up through red eyes. “Really?”

“Of course, Kells.” She moved her hand around. “I think I felt it move. Wow. It feels different this time.” She took my hand and we walked to the car. She dropped me at home and caught a train to work. “I may be a little late,” she said. “Is that OK?”

The question surprised me. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

She smiled. “I just thought, with S-Matt…” I noticed that she was getting better at just calling him Matt, not S-Matt lately. It only came out when she was nervous or stressed.

I smiled. “We’ll be fine. He’ll be studying. I’ll make us dinner.”

She gave a me a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” I smiled and rested my hand on my stomach.

I spent the rest of the day humming to myself. I was reviewing the rewrites that Susan sent and she was, as I expected, on target. I had created a foil for Ingrid, Inspector Gudrunsdottir. I wasn’t sure what her point was - friend or foe or neither. Susan made one comment, about how she’d noticed that Gudrunsdottir made Ingrid a coffee each morning showing her maternal and protective feelings for my main character, and it made me realise that she was Ingrid’s mother figure, Ingrid’s mother having left when she was a child. Around 2:30 PM, an hour before Matt was due home, my phone rang. The display said, “Siggy.” I debated hitting “ignore,” but decided that I had faced the OB-GYN, I could face someone 2300 miles away.

“Hello Siggy,” I said coldly

“How are you,” she said tentatively. “Are you…”

I let her dangle for a second. “I am fine. I had a doctor’s appointment today. My first.”

“I hope not the last. Sorry sorry.” I heard the pain in her voice. I looked over at a shirt she gave me and felt awful.

“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”

“Is everything OK?”

“Yes, apparently I have a fundal height and it says I’m 15 weeks along.”

She laughed. “Sorry sorry. I was just picturing Egon in the doctor’s office with his legs up.”

That made me laugh, against my own will. “Bloody hell. That and the speculum, god is a man.”

She laughed some more. It felt good to hear her laugh. She had been my friend, as much as she could be. “Is everything OK?”

“The doctor says so. I heard the heartbeat.”

“That is something,” she said, sadly.

I thought about asking when she lost the baby but decided not to pry. If she wanted to tell me, she would. “It is. I have a sonogram in a few weeks, we’ll know more then. I hope it’s all OK.”

“I am sorry Kelly. I should have told you.”

“Yes, but he should have more.”

She took a deep breath. “He would like to speak with you.”

“Stop,” I barked. “I don’t want to hear about HIM. I don’t care what HE wants. I’m happy to speak with you. It’s good to hear from you. I will keep you apprised of my pregnancy and you can tell HIM what you want but I don’t want to hear HIS name again. Fair?” I didn’t care if it was fair. It was the rule.

“I’m sorry Kelly.”

“I’m sorry HE put you in the middle, Siggy.” I realised I was still shouting and calmed myself down a little, “How is Egon?” I wanted to know how Jamie was, how the film was coming along but I wasn’t going to ask. There was no answer I could hear that would truly satisfy me. If Jamie was doing great, I’d be angry. If she was miserable, I would be miserable. I hated her, but still loved her.

“He’s fine. He always asks after you. He has been worried since you left.”

Because his friend left me pregnant, broke and homeless? “Tell him I’m fine.”

“And James?”

“Tell him to go fuck himself. He knows why. I have to go. I have things to do. Bye, SIggy.”

“Kelly, please. I am sorry. I will always be sorry.”

“I know. I can’t deal with HIM now. I’ll let you know how things are.”

“Thank you,” she said and then we hung up.

Nine Months

Month Five

Kelly comes to terms with being a pregnant woman. In the meantime she gets to know Matt.

I heard the door slam and a bag thump down on the floor. “Is that you, Matt?” I said. I was putting away laundry. I was really starting to show now which got me a lot of comments but made it a lot harder to carry the basket in front. I was afraid to balance it on my belly for fear of hurting the baby. “How was the programme today?” Matt had gotten a summer job at the Wood Street Youth Space, working with its youth programme. He was a junior counselor in charge of seven and eight-year old boys.

“Bloody awful. Whenever it rains in the mornings, the little buggers bounce off the walls,” he said, with a smile. It had rained in the morning which meant that they had to keep the children occupied in the gymnasium or doing projects. As I recalled from being that age, the vast majority of boys couldn’t sit still for ten minutes. I couldn’t imagine supervising ten of them. I likened it to herding cats. He took the basket from me. “Let me help you with that. You shouldn’t be carrying such heavy loads, I don’t think.”

I smiled, “I’m sure it’s fine but I won’t say no. Thank you.”

“Please, Kells. It’s the least I could do.” He carried the laundry basket while I put everything away. “How was your day? How is the book coming along?”
“Slowly but surely. Rich and Susan seem to see some possibility in it,” I said, putting away Fi’s clothes. I took extra care to hang everything. She had always been just so about her clothing but it seemed that lately she had been less focused on it. She always looked good but I wanted her to look her best. It was, like Matt said, the least I could do, after everything she had done for me and it felt good to be appreciated on top of that.

We were headed into Matt’s room when he said, “Why don’t you go sit? I’ll take it from here,” with a note of concern. I’m not sure whether the concern was for my health or for whatever he was hiding. I was going to say that I never looked in his drawers or wardrobe, but that sounded guilty to me now at 36, or 24, or whatever I was. At 15, it would have raised my suspicions to high alert.
I went to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” I said. “Do you want some strawberries and banana? I think we have some left from the other day?”

“Yes, please. Do we have any biscuits?”

“We’re out. I was going to head to the shops once I got the laundry put away. Is there anything else you want?”

“Wait. I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind,” he said.

“Thanks. I can use the help.” I sat on the couch and waited for him. I flipped through a magazine and felt the baby move. Whatever it was, it was really starting to do that, less like a butterfly and more like holding a squirming kitten. On your bladder. I got up to pee for the tenth time that day. I made his strawberries and banana. He sat and ate and we talked. Awkwardly, I asked, “How is everyone there?” This was the first full year since he started transitioning. However much better it was now than it would have been when I was his age (for example, the mere fact that it was countenanced, much less supported, by the powers that be), I knew how bad teens were to each other in general and couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to be Matt. I thought about Bee’s snide comments and realized that there was no comparison.
He smiled indulgently. “Some are great, others are dicks. Most are neither.”
I laughed. “Welcome to the rest of your life. You’ve learned the lesson earlier than the rest of us.” I went to stand up and he offered me a hand. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. This is getting harder every day.” There was a phrase with double meaning, if ever there was one.

“I’m sure,” he said, giving me a peck on the forehead - the way I had seen my friends kiss their mums.

We walked to the shops, talking mostly about music. He was heavily into the Manchester bands of the eighties and nineties. Especially the Smiths and the Fall.
I laughed. “Isn’t there any bloody new music you like? That’s the music your mum and I listened to at Uni. This is the time when you’re supposed to look at us and think our music is shite.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just like it. It speaks to me. OK, I sound like a total wanker when I say that, don’t I? I just found it on Spotify, to be honest I didn’t realise it was so old until recently.”

I wasn’t surprised it spoke to him. He was the perfect audience for it, all adolescent angst and identity. “It’s OK. Like what you like but, yeah, don’t tell people it speaks to you. That was bloody awful.”

We were walking into the market when we heard a girl call, “Hey Matt.”

We turned around and it was a girl about Matt’s age. She was pretty, mixed race, with green eyes, about 5’4” and nine stone. She was wearing a pair of short blue shorts and a t shirt. Underneath, you could see a bikini top.

Matt’s face lit up. “Hey, Saff,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Since he was little, he had done this when he was nervous.

She smiled, looking at him, then down. “It was a fright today, wasn’t it? I couldn’t keep the girls still. You can only play so much netball.”

“I know. Tell me about it. I broke up three fights. I don’t even think they were upset, just bored.”

Saff turned to me. “I am so rude. Hi, I’m Saffron Mitchell. Matt and I, uh, work together at Wood Street.”

“I gathered that,” I said, laughing.

Before I could finish, Matt regathered his composure. “Saff, this is Kells, Kelly. Kelly Cooper. She’s a friend of my mum’s. Kelly, this is Saff, we, uh, work together.” Saff took his hand and looked at him, with the look given by generations of teenage girls to generations of boys they liked. The “you’re a bloody idiot” look.

She took my hand. “Very nice to meet you, Ms. Cooper.”

“Kelly is fine.”

“How far along are you?”

I smiled and touched my belly. “Five months.”

“Oh wow. Congratulations. Are you just visiting?”

Matt interjected, “She’s staying with us for a while. Her husband,” and he shot me a quick glance, “is working overseas so she’s staying with us.” Good Matt. Keeping the lie straight. Or the sort of lie.

I interjected back, “And Matt generously offered to help me with the shopping. It’s getting harder to carry things and all.” Have to help a brother out - even when you’re a sister.

“I would imagine,” Saff said. “That’s so sweet, Matt.” She took his hand and he blushed.

I smiled. “Why don’t you stay out here and talk about work? I’ll go in the Spar and start shopping. Come in and when you’re done.” I turned to Saff. “I just need him to carry anyway.”

She laughed. “That’s what my mum says. She says my dad is for lifting heavy things and getting things off high shelves.”

I went in and started filling the cart. A woman passed me with a toddler in her shopping cart. He was grabbing things off the shelves and she, without missing a beat, was putting them back. She looked at me and smiled. “Good luck,” she said with a sigh. I was trying to decide between lamb and chicken for dinner. I decided to make lamb and orzo for Fi, remembering our trip to Greece in Uni. I picked up sprigs of mint and rosemary to garnish the plates. I found the biscuits I knew Matt liked and put two packages in the cart.

I got what I needed and went to the cashier to pay. There was a queue of few people in front of me, with full carts. When you came at this time of day, that was to be expected. It was mostly mums shopping for families. From the front of the queue, I heard the woman say, “I have some coupons. They’re in here somewhere,” and I could see her rummaging through a purse slightly smaller than a carry on bag. Everyone on line began to groan and give her the London death stare.

I figured that I’d be here for a while and picked up a copy of Grazia. No, being this way had not made me interested in its contents. There was just nothing else to read on the rack. I started flicking through, idly looking at the pictures. ‘Oh, look, Harry and Megan,’ I sneered to myself. ‘Didn’t expect that.’ I flicked past when I saw a picture of three girls laughing in mermaid costumes. By the look of the picture they were having whale of a time, excuse the pun. I picked it up and felt queasy, and for once not because of the baby. The slogan, “Lure him to your net. Vera Wang Princess,” didn’t help.

Christ, what agency put forth that crap? Trite - and sexist. Was there no woman in the room? I made a note to e-mail Jeremy, to tell him to bid the account.

Maybe that would get me some work. Then I thought ‘hadn’t they said it was only coming out in Japan? Did this mean I had another payment coming my way?’ Then I remembered. Jamie reads Grazia religiously. I think she secretly pictured herself in it. ‘Oh god,’ I thought, ‘I hope the nanos made her not interested,’ knowing full well how impossible that was. I put it in the cart. I don’t know why. I figured I’d show Fi when she got home. Maybe, she’d know what to do.

There was an mail in my inbox from Felix I’d been avoiding for over a week. I knew I should follow him up for payment but it made me feel wrong. Dirty. I put the magazine face down in the cart, I didn’t have to deal with it now.

I was still waiting in line when Matt came in. “Sorry about that,” he said with a smile, in a tone that indicated that he wasn’t the least bit sorry.

I put the magazine out of my mind and laughed. “You’re not sorry nor should you be. Good on you. Did you have a nice discussion of work? ”
“Shut up,” he said, blushing and looking in the cart. “You got the biscuits? Thanks.”

“I’m not letting you off the hook, y’know. I won’t embarrass you here though, in case someone knows you.”

“Thanks.” He picked up the lamb. “We’re having lamb for dinner? Cool!”
I liked that he liked it. “Yeah, I figured it was a nice change.”

He kissed me again on the forehead. “It’s been great having you with us, Kells. Thanks for everything.”

Now I blushed. “It’s the least I can do. You took me in,” and I started to tear. “Sorry, hormones.”

“Yeah, that’s what they told us in sex-ed.” ‘Thanks for letting me off, Matt,’ I thought.

We walked home. Past the old community hall that had been turned into one of those Brazilian evangelical churches that were clustered around the area. We could hear the singing as we passed, Brazil’s mixed cultural heritage clashing with London’s. “She fancies you.”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“Do you fancy her?”

“Yeah,” he said, with a huge grin.

“Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Kinda. I don’t know. I mean we hang around together and all.”

“Does she know? Sorry, that was rude.”

“Nah, it’s OK. Of course, she knows. It’s common knowledge. I mean it’s not like we’re doing anything…” I knew that tone. He was holding back.

I was going to say something but touched the side of my nose. “OK, well, if she wants to come around sometime after work - so you can discuss y’know work strategies. Very important and all.”

“Shut up,” he laughed. “Can we maybe not tell mum?” he said.

I paused. I understood where he was coming from but felt like, by not saying something, I was betraying Fi, who had taken me in when I had nowhere else to go. On the other hand, Matt seemed to say nothing was going on, so maybe there was nothing to say. Yeah, that’s it. “OK, but if it ever becomes anything, you have to tell her, OK? She would have both our necks if she found out.”

“OK,” he said, clearly unwillingly.

We started walking home. “Maybe it’s none of my business, but why don’t you want to tell her?”

“I dunno,” and he paused, clearly thinking of a response other than the truth. “Y’know how mums get about this…”

“Not really, but I know what you mean,” I said.

“Huh?”

“It’s not a secret. It was just me, dad and my brother Bill. That’s how I learned to cook, as the oldest child. What with Dad having to work all hours.”

“How did she die?”

I took a deep breath. “She didn’t die. She left when I was four and Bill was two.”

He gave me a hug. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No worries. You shouldn’t have,” I said, cutting off the discussion. I didn’t know if he was ready. I knew I wasn’t. “Let’s not get all sad about it. You and Saff, huh? She’s a cute one.”

He smiled. “Yeah.” Then he got serious. “Does the hole..ever get filled?”

“No.” He didn’t need to explain what he meant. “It’s always there. But it does get easier to cope with. You build around it.”

“Right,” he said, fidgeting with his neck again.

“How about you help me with dinner when we get home? Surprise your mum?”

He smiled, “OK, that’ll be good.”

We started preparing the dinner. I mashed some garlic, and then mixed in the rosemary. I began rubbing the paste onto the lamb. Matt watched me the whole time.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a paste. You rub it onto the lamb and it seeps in while it’s cooking. Try some,” I said, handing him the bowl.

“Mmm, that’s good. Where did you learn that?”

“I don’t know. Cooking shows on telly when I was younger. I did all the cooking while dad was at work because…”

“Yeah,” he said, thankfully cutting me off.

“Pay attention. Girls love a man who can cook. It shows you’re civilised,” I said, with a laugh. “Start making the salad,” I said. “You know how to do that, right?”

“Yes,” he said, taking out the ingredients. He began cutting the lettuce off the head. “Of course I do.”

“Of course, you don’t,” I said, taking the knife. “You don’t cut lettuce. You tear it. Cutting makes it brown faster. May as well as cut up money.”

He smiled. “Mum always cuts it.”

I laughed. “I love your mum. She does many things very well, most better than me. But she is a horrible cook. And you best not repeat that.”

“Or what?” he teased.

“Or, tonight on Newsnight, we discuss work at youth programmes,” I said, sticking out my tongue.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. ‘Why, Fi, we ran into the most lovely young lady today. We should invite her to dinner.’”

“Fine,” he laughed. “You win. Besides, her cooking stinks.”

We sat and talked while the lamb cooked.

I began looking in the refrigerator. “Do you have any parmesan cheese? Oh wait, there it is. Great.”

“What are you doing?” He looked genuinely intrigued.

“Orzo with parmesan and garlic,” I said. “Not that difficult.” I began boiling the orzo.

“Did you do this with Jamie?”

“Yes, most nights. Unless we ate out or got take away.” I don’t know why the question bothered me but it did. There was nothing wrong with men cooking. The great chefs of the world were men, my dad used to say.

“She’s stupid, if you ask me. She was lucky to have you.” He gave me another kiss on the forehead. “We’re lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” I said, blushing. I regained my composure. We had time while the lamb cooked and the orzo boiled. “So, no one is here,” I said, with a laugh. “Tell me about you and Saffron.”

“I fancy her. She fancies me. Unfortunately, her family won’t.”

“Why not?” I asked, knowing full why.

“Her dad’s from here. Her mum’s Gambian. Total religious nutter. Saff says she’s always going on about sin and hell and everything. Bloody lost it over marriage equality. I can’t imagine she’d be OK knowing about me. I mean look at my mum.”

I took his hand into mind. “Your mum loves you, Matt. I think with everything with your dad she’s just, I don’t know, knocked about. I can’t really explain it and I won’t excuse it but I’ve known her forever. She loves you unconditionally and just wants you to be happy.”

“She has a funny way of showing it,” he mumbled.

“She’s coming around and I’m doing my best for you.”

“I know,” he smiled. “Thanks. So what’s it like?”

“So what’s what like?”

“Working in an ad agency,” he said. “You know what.”

“Ah, it’s, honestly, weird is the word I’d use most. I mean it’s certainly not something I expected. Add to that that there’s this person inside you. This person who makes you fat and fart and piss all the time. And who keeps you up. And makes your stomach flip.”

“They paid YOU to write adverts?”

“Shut up or it’s Newsnight for you,” I joked. The orzo had boiled and I began melting butter into a skillet. “Watch. You melt the butter and brown the garlic. When it’s browned, you pour in the orzo and voila. Not that difficult.”

“For here it is,” he laughed. “So anyway. You fart and piss and all that.”

“And at the same time, it’s amazing. There’s this person in you, who’s dependent on you. Who’s a part of you.” I started to tear up. Stupid hormones again. “Well, anyway, it’s something amazing.”

“Do you miss it? Being you?”

“I am me,” I smiled, realising that I was probably talking to the one person who could get it. He was 15 and he could get it. “I mean, was it something I chose? Clearly, no. And maybe I’ll regret it down the way somewhere. But, no I don’t really miss it. It’s opened my eyes. To a lot. And I mean I wouldn’t have got to know you,” I said. “And for that I’m grateful.”

“Don’t be such a girl, Kells,” he joked. I could see the affection on his face though.

“Don’t be such a man, Matt.” I dipped the spoon in the orzo. “Try this.”

“Wow, this is delicious. I’m glad I got to know you too. Saff’s between us, right?”

“Right,” I smiled. “Until she’s not just a work colleague. Go set the table. Fi will be home soon.”

Five minutes later, Fi came through the door. “That smells delicious. What is it?”

Matt came out, “Lamb with garlic and rosemary. And orzo with garlic and parmesan. And salad, which I made.”

“Wow,” Fi said, coming into the kitchen. She stuck a spoon into the orzo.

I swatted her hand away. “You can wait. It’s almost done.”

“Yes, dear,” she said, kissing me on the head. This bloody family and kisses on the head, like I was the lucky Buddha. At least, they didn’t rub the belly. “How was your day?”

“Good, got some writing done in the morning, then went shopping in the afternoon. Matt came with me. I’m so glad. Made it much easier to get everything back.”

“Good job. I trained you right,” she said.

He smiled. “Uh huh,” he grunted.

She watched me put sprigs of mint onto each plate. “What did I do to deserve you?”

I smiled. “Please. I’m just grateful for everything you two have done, do for me. It’s a pleasure.”

We ate dinner and talked about our days. Matt told her all about his boys and how they were bouncing off the walls. He left out Saff, which was fair. She was, after all, just another work colleague. Fi told us about a conference in the office over Brexit and proposed new insurance regulations. She was a senior administrator at Lloyd’s and was not looking forward to Brexit, soft or hard. She had once said to me that the only thing hard in Brexit was, “the well deserved fucking the bloody fucking Sun readers and their hag Mail reading wives who voted for this shite were going to get.” Fi always had a way with words.

“On a lighter note, I have that meeting with Susan in the morning, but I’ll be back in time for dinner,” I said.

Fi said, “That reminds me. I’ve been meaning to tell you that you need some new clothes. You can’t go meeting Susan in my old rags anymore. You need to look smart.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Fi. But I’m fine. Besides, how do you propose I pay for them? I mean,” and I remembered Matt was there. “It’s not like I’ve been working.”

Fi laughed. “Well, aren’t you lucky then? I was by the shops at lunch today and I picked you up something for tomorrow.” She handed me a bag. “Take a look.”

I pulled out a blue sheath dress, it looked expensive. I was genuinely conflicted. On the one hand, I couldn’t express how appreciative I was that Fi had bought me a dress so I would look good. On the other hand, Fi bought me a dress. “You didn’t have to. Thank you,” I said. I wanted to give her a kiss but couldn’t decide how she’d take that, so I gave her a hug.

“Go try it on. We’ll clear the dishes.”

I went into the bedroom and tried it on. Fi was right. It did look smart. It hugged me in all the right places and made me feel less self conscious in the wrong ones. I wouldn’t look like a girl playing dress up. I’d look like a woman. A pregnant woman. It wasn’t like I was hiding from what I was, but a dress of my own was a new bridge to cross.

I came out and Fi said, “Now, you look like a proper author, Kells.”

“Thank you. Again, it’s not necessary. I will pay you back when I get my advance.”

She looked at me, cross and said, “You’ll do no such thing. For everything you do for us, it’s the least I can do. And I intend to take you to the shops this weekend to get you some clothes. Those clothes of Sibby’s…”

“Siggy. Her name is Siggy.” I don’t know why I was defending her. She wasn’t my friend, Fi was.

“Sorry, Siggy. Whatever. Her clothes are getting too small. And mine are too big.”

Matt chimed in, “This bed is just right,” which made me giggle.

Fi laughed. “Well played, Matt. We are going to the shops, Kells. Full stop. No argument.”

I gave in and smiled. “OK, Fi. Thank you. I just don’t want to be a burden is all.”

Matt came over and gave me a hug. “You’re not a burden, Aunt Kells.”

“Thanks, Matt,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. Fi looked at the two of us, and smiled.

“May I be excused? I want to go, uh, check something on the computer.”

Without thinking, I said, “Go ahead. I want to talk to your mum.” He laughed and walked away. “Sorry, Fi,” I said. “I overstepped my bounds.” I took off the dress and put in on the hanger, making sure it hung correctly. I had worn an old t shirt and shorts under it.

“Overstep away,” she said, laughing. “He clearly likes you.”

“And I like him. He’s a good boy, Fi.”

She sighed, “I know. It’s hard but I’m getting better, aren’t I?”

“You are. He is who he is.”

“As are we all,” she said, getting up and looking at herself in the hall mirror. She sighed, ran her fingers through her hair and said, “So, what’s up?”

I took out the magazine from my bag. “This,” I said.

She laughed, “Those nanos are something. Reading Grazia Now? What’s new with the cast of Big Brother series 412?”

“Ha ha Fi. Everyone knows they’re only on 397. But seriously,” and I flipped to the page. I handed it to her.

“So, and,” her jaw dropped. “Oh, so that’s you.”

“Yes it is. Me in the flesh. Or the gills, or both.”

She started laughing, “It’s quite something. You look very fetching. Green is a good colour on you. I like this Asian girl.”

“She’s a bitch,” I laughed.

“What’s the issue? Do they owe you money? We’ll call Bee.” If my option was Bee or not getting paid, I’d take the dole.

“That’s not it. Jamie reads Grazia religiously.”

“King James or the new translation?” She was satisfied with her own joke.

“Susan used that already,” I laughed. “Try again.”

“So, she reads it. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is I’ve managed to avoid her to date and I don’t want to hear from her.” She paused like she was about to say something. “What, Fi,” I said. “Out with it.”

She paused again. “What are you afraid of? I mean she’s sort of done everything she can do to you, no offense.”

“I, uh, I just don’t want to see her.”

“Then don’t. I don’t see why you won’t, but it’s your choice,” she said.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d say.”

“I’d tell you to say what you feel, but as of now, we don’t know if she’s seen it or if she’ll put two and two together, but if she does and she calls you, you’ll deal with it. Until then, enjoy it. I know I am. It’s rare for me to have a celebrity living in my very own home.” She picked up the magazine and handed it to me. “May I have your autograph?” I picked up a pen and wrote, ‘To Fi, shut up. Best wishes, Kelly,” with an ‘xo’ and a heart.

“I shall treasure this forever,” she said, as she put it under her glass, taking care to center it on my face. “Did you call Dr. Patel?”

“Yes,” I said. “The sonogram is two weeks from yesterday.”

“What time,” she said, flicking through her phone.

“10:30,” I said. “You don’t have to come.”

She looked hurt. “Do you not want me?”

“Of course I do,” I said. “I just didn’t want you to miss work or anything.”

“Don’t be absurd, Kells. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That means everything to me,” and I started to tear up. Then I started to bawl. Between the magazine and the sonogram, I was missing Jamie. I missed her touch, her smell, her...her. I wished she was here. I knew why she wasn’t but that didn’t make the ache any less.

She held me while I cried. “I know Kells. I know you miss her but I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. I promise you that.”

I sniffled. “Thank you, Fi. For everything.”

“The same to you, Kells.”

---

Decaf tea, with plenty of milk and sugar, is just about drinkable. At least I had to convince myself it was, as it was going to be a pretty big part of my life for the next four months. I sipped it nervously as I waited for my brother to arrive.
10am, our agreed time came and went. Then 10:30 passed without any word. By then I was pacing backwards and forwards. It was nearly 11 when I heard the knock on the door. I took a deep breath and went to answer.

“Excuse me, I was looking for Kel…” He looked at my eyes and his widened. “Kelly?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

My little brother stared at me for a long time, and then shook his head, “you look different. Did you do something new with your hair?”

“Har har. Get in you lug.”

The front door closed and we hugged.

“You must be freaking out,” he said.

“I was.” He kept staring at me which, while to be expected, was starting to irritate me. “Spit it out, Billy.”

“What?”

“You don’t like this shirt. You know what.”

He looked at me. “OK. You are happy with,” he gestured towards my whole body, bump and all, “this?”

“Happy’s a little strong. OK is better. Accepted is best. I’ve made the decision to keep the baby so I just have to deal with the rest.”

We sat down in the living room and he kept staring at me, to the point that he felt behind him when he sat down on the couch.

“OK, stop staring,” I said.

He smiled. “Sorry. It’s just so hard to see your little sister pregnant. I remember the Westlife posters like yesterday and now you’re having a baby,” he said, laughing.

That broke the ice and I laughed. “The bloody Westlife posters were yours, you big girl.”

“I’m the big girl? Have a look at yourself lately?”

“Shut up. Do you want something to drink?”
He jumped up. “You stay there, I’ll make it. Kitchen this way?”

“You don’t have to look after me,”

He came back in with two cups of tea “Don’t be silly. Enjoy it now. Come what, about four months, your rest time is over.” He handed me mine, “Decaf for you,” he said. “Tell Julia,” his wife “I remember. Um, I know we went through this on the e-mail but how exactly did this happen?”

With that, I went through the whole saga from the blog to the nanosuits to Rich to Iceland to here.

He laughed. “That’s some series of accidents and coincidences.”

“What? What do you mean?” I knew what he meant. He meant what Fi meant and what I still wasn’t ready to face.

“Nothing,” he said. “Good on you, on the book. You always wanted to write,” he smiled. “I remember that diary that you used to keep, ‘Oh dear diary, I love Nigel but he doesn’t love me…’”

I laughed and played along. “You looked at my diary? My most intimate thoughts?” I needed the release. It felt good to have him here, a link to an easier time in my life.

“Anyway, the rest is not important. Have you and Jamie worked out arrangements yet?”

“I haven’t got that far. I’m barely getting through each day.” I looked out at the raindrops running down the window. It’d been awhile since it had rained. The flowers in the garden would be coming out once the sun returned. “Like I said in the email, I just want to get through this and have a healthy baby, and then I’ll work out what comes next.”

“Does that include what you are going to do with the baby once it happens?”

“I have no idea. Like I said, all I’ve planned is to get to the end of this with a healthy baby. Then I’ll work out what comes next.”

He smiled, “Like the blog? Kelly, plan ahead for once. Having a new baby is like being hit by a tornado. You want to have something in place beforehand or risk being blown away.”

He wasn’t wrong but I wasn’t ready or able to plan just yet. “I will. So, how are the boys?” I was a bad uncle. We’d exchange pictures and I’d send cards and gifts, but I wasn’t part of their life. If Julia would let me, I wanted to change that.

“Good. Little terrors. Mikey climbs everything and Alex is obsessed with the computer. It’s all I can do to drag him off the thing. Julia’s at her wits end.”

Bill went through the latest exploits of his two. He’d married young, only a year or so after Uni. He’d never been the ambitious type, spending his life slowly climbing the government ladder. I curled my legs underneath me, watching him talk. It felt reassuring to see such a familiar face. I’d seen that face so often I knew it better than my own. Which was especially true in the bodysuit. Every expression, every crease was familiar to me. I wanted to tell him how much his calm acceptance was helping.

“Kelly, I’ve got something to tell you,” He jolted me out of my safe space. “I’ve found her.”
He looked at me expectantly. It took me a while to catch on.

“Her her?” I couldn’t call her mum. A ‘mum’ was someone like Fiona who was always there, always loved you no matter what.

“Do you want me to tell you what I’ve found?”

“Do I want to know?” I’d picked up a cushion and was holding it close to my stomach. He looked at me. It was an unfair question. I didn’t want to know but needed to. “Start off simple. I take it she’s alive,” he nodded, “where is she living?”

“Some place in Cheshire. Warburton.”

I sat there dumbly. ‘Cheshire’, it seemed very real. A solid place. Not like the places I’d imagined her to be over the years. New York, Paris, Australia. Places out of movies. At least to me.

He took a deep breath. “She remarried,” another piece of information I’d have to deal with. I reached out and took Bill’s hand. It must have been hard on him as well. “About 8 years ago. The guy owns a Land Rover dealership.”

“Good on them. Must be doing well.”

He nodded.

“Have you been in contact?”

Again he nodded.

“What did she sound like?” I could only remember feelings when I thought of my mother. Sense memory, Jamie called it. The smell of her perfume, the softness of her arms when she held me. I thought I remembered the sound of her voice, but I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a false memory I’d created as a child.

“We’ve just shared emails, so I have no idea.”

I looked closely at Bill. He was only 34, but he looked tired. Two boys will do that to you. You could see the lines forming around his eyes and grey slowly creeping in at his temples.

“Anything else I should know?”

He took a deep breath. Oh god, I thought, what now.

“Well, she has two kids, both girls.”

“What?” This was something of a shock. The one thing I thought I was certain about with my mother was that she was bad with kids. It was the only explanation for her leaving us, without going to a dark place where I blamed myself. I felt a hole opening up below me.

“The oldest is 13, the younger one 11. Issy and Lisa. From a ‘prior relationship,’” he said, an edge creeping into his voice. She was 20 when I was born, 22 when Bill was. I guess it wasn’t unreasonable. At least the age difference.

“Do they know about us?”

He shrugged, “I’ve no idea. She’s invited me up to meet with her in a couple of weeks but I don’t know that that includes the lot of them. I guess she wants to check me out first. The invitation is extended to you as well.”

I recalled like he’d bit me. “I can’t, not like this!”

He chuckled, “Well I guess it would complicate things. I mean you’ll have to get your hair done and all.” I threw the pillow at him.

We continued talking for hours. Around 1, I made us sandwiches for lunch, like I did when we were kids. He crumpled crisps into his like we used to and laughed. “I haven’t done that for ages.” He crunched down. “I don’t know why. It’s really good. Have to do this with the boys. When Julia’s out.”

We talked about everything, well everything but the elephant in the room. Football, politics, my “condition,” which he found endlessly entertaining.

“My sister, a bloody tart with her legs spread and her knickers down. Now look at you! We’ll send you up north to have it. I shan’t be embarrassed before the neighbours, the vicar!”

I laughed, “Arsehole.”

He laughed. “Come stay with us in Brighton. Julia’ll be happy to have you.”

“Does she know?”

“Sort of. I mean I told her but this is sort of see for yourself, you know.”

“I appreciate the offer. I’ll come for a visit, but my life’s here.” We didn’t discuss Cheshire until he got up to leave. He reiterated the offer. He wouldn’t say it but I think he wanted me there for support.

“I can’t face her like this.”

“Why? You don’t need to make a special effort for her. This is you and she has to take you as you want be.” I just said I’d think about it.

Bill left around 3 and the flat felt empty. I started making the dinner, the physical action acting as a distraction. The rain had stopped and the sun glinted off the dew covered garden. Even the plastic chairs looked magical. The radio played an old song I remembered from being a kid and all of a sudden I was crying.

I didn’t hear the door slam. Matt and Saff came into the kitchen. Saff started to come over but Matt held up his hand. He came over and put his arm around me. “Are you OK, Aunt Kells?” It felt funny to hear him call me that again. I had become just ‘Kells.’

“I’m fine. Old song came on and it made me tear up.” They both looked at me with utter disbelief. “Go discuss work, you two. I’ll make you a snack.”

Saff said, “I’ll go into the garden. You two talk.” She looked concerned, bless her little 15 year old socks.

“So what happened for real?” Matt said.

“My brother was here.”

“Giving you a hard time?” Anger flashed across his face. More anger than a young face like his should have to deal with.

I put my hand on his arm. “No no no. Nothing like that. He heard from our mother.”

“Oh. Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Definitely oh shit,” and we both laughed a little.

“And?”

“He’s seeing her. He asked if I wanted to come.”

“Do you?”

I paused. “I don’t know.” I didn’t know. I didn’t care what I looked like, she had no rights to say anything. I just didn’t know what I would do. I stood there for a second and decided to figure it out with Fi later on. This was too much for Matt to have to deal with, however much he wanted to help. I smiled. “We’ll figure it out later. Go out to your work colleague.” This was our new inside joke

I brought them out biscuits and lemonade that I had made. “I hope you like lemonade, Saff,” I said.

“Oh you didn’t have to, Ms. Coo..Kelly. Are you OK?”

I smiled, “I’m fine. Bloody hormones.”

She smiled, letting me off the hook. “I’m sure. I know how I get you know...sorry, girl talk, Matt,” which, in retrospect, was an absurd thing to say, given the players.

---

“Stop fiddling,” Fiona scolded me as I played with the hem of my dress.

“I’m just not used to skirts,” I sighed, putting my hand in my lap. Not that there was much space for them with my bulging tum.

“It’s not a skirt. It’s a nice dress. It suits you.”

I looked down at the dark grey pinafore style dress and the two inch heels. “You don’t think it makes me look like a pregnant school girl?” She just laughed. “I notice you’re in trousers.” I added ruefully.

“I’m not the one trying to impress.” That wasn’t entirely true. Ever since I’d asked Fiona to be my plus one to the Dale dinner, she’d been repeatedly asking me about their tastes, who’d be coming, etc. She said she didn’t want to let me down, although I didn’t think she could. I didn’t push it. Instead, I returned to watching

East London go by outside the train window. The carriages of the East London line felt open and airy after the cramped tube trains.

“Are you sure they like red? What if Susan’s cooked fish?” Fi said nervously. I had never seen her this nervous.

“They served it last time,” I said, placing a hand on her knee. I hadn’t really thought about it, it was meant to be reassuring. I noticed that she moved her leg a little closer.

Standing outside the now familiar doorway, I felt a familiar panic rising. Not only did I want them to like me, I wanted them to like Fiona. She took my hand and smiled. I felt a little better.

“Kelly, how lovely to see you!” Rich beamed. He had an expensive looking bottle of red in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. I saw Fiona shuffle the carrier bag containing our much cheaper bottle behind her. I introduced Rich and Fiona and was struck with how weird it was to see the two of them talking. Two parts of my life colliding.

“Hello dear,” Susan poked her head out of the kitchen. I’d worn my hair down on Fiona’s suggestion. While the look suited the summer weather, I found it irritating having to constantly brush it out of my face. I felt like I was peering out through a curtain. “Kelly, so what do you think? Do you agree Ingrid, Sally and Ólafur are a sort of love triangle?” Susan came and took my hand, and dragged me towards the kitchen before I had time to protest.

“Don’t worry,” Rich said to Fiona, “The partners are through here.” I turned just in time to watch Fiona and Rich disappearing into the living room. They seemed to have hit it off.

“Before we get into your book, I want to introduce you to a couple of friends. Kelly, this is Hannah,” she pointed to a tall black woman, beautiful but stressed and tired looking, “and Millie, she writes for…”

“The Independent. Yes, I read your column,” I took both women’s hands In turn. Millie Hopkins wrote about games and computer culture from a feminist perspective. She got a lot of flack from the Gamergate types and other weirdos for her trouble.

“Hannah works for the PLP.” Susan seemed to assume I knew what that was.

“The Parliamentary Labour Party,” Hannah explained. No wonder she looked so stressed and tired.

“I would never show your work to anyone of course. Professional ethics and all. But I have to admit I’ve been dying to show these two your book.”

“She’s been driving us mad. She won’t give a thing away but can’t stop talking about it. I haven’t seen her this excited by a project since Donna Tartt,” Hannah confirmed.

“All she’ll tell us,” Millie touched my arm, “is that it has a uniquely female perspective.”

I felt bad. I should have told Susan the truth. Would she still want to be my friend, my editor when she found out I’ve conned her?

“How much do you want to tell them Kelly?”

“I don’t know if it deserves so much praise. It’s pretty clichéd really. I take the Scandi-noir trope of the melting ice revealing a dead body and secrets in a small town and move it to the North of England. A hot summer, a reservoir in the
Pennines is unusually low, which reveals a car with a dead body of a Swedish au pair who came over in the 70s. Then the action switches to Iceland where the au pair’s sister…” It was bizarre to have all three women following my every word.

Like most writers, I’m a natural introvert with an extrovert dying to get out. After what felt like a million questions, they let me go. Susan turned back to the cooking and the conversation moved on. As a man, it felt odd when the three of them insisted I take the bar stool at the end of the island. Given the way the heels hurt my feet, I wasn’t completely stupid, so I didn’t complain.

“What do you think will happen with the Germany negotiations?” Susan turned to ask Hannah. I enjoyed watching their dynamic. Hannah led the conversation, but they all deferred to Susan when it came down to it.

“I think the Germans will be keen to find a solution. They’ve been pretty good about the whole thing. They don’t want to crash the whole European economy just for revenge. Still, any deal will be on their terms.”

“I was in Berlin during their last elections. You know what struck me?” Millie was mostly content to take more of a backseat like me. As she talked, she always looked for confirmation from the other two, “How positive their election posters were. ‘Vote for me because I’m a nice guy,’ In the Anglosphere it’s all ‘Vote for the other guys and they’ll sell the NHS to a Polish Muslim,’ or ‘Vote for them and they’ll let Russia nuke Surrey.’”

“Right. It’s the same in Spain. Their newspapers seem so sedate compared to ours. I guess they know what can go wrong. We’ve grown complacent.” Again, Susan acted as final referee on the subject.

“OK,” Susan wiped sweat from her brow, “I think we are there. Millie, be a love and ask the ‘boys’ to come through. Hannah, would you mind setting the table?”

“What should I do?” I swivelled, contemplating how I was going to get down.

“Nothing, rest. You’re pregnant, enjoy it while it lasts.”

It felt wrong, but I wasn’t complaining.

Fiona and a new man were the first in, both laughing loudly. She saw me sitting there. “Kells, this is Chris. He’s another author.”

“Chris Bowman? I think Rich mentioned you would be here,” I struggled to get up and offer him my hand. He smiled and came over, motioning me to sit.

“Rich has been prepping me for Richard and Judy,” he said as he shook my hand. Unlike everyone else who had dressed up, Chris was in a rugby shirt and jeans. He was also carrying a bottle of some micro-brewery beer whereas everyone else was drinking wine.

“Sorry, are you from the West Country,” I asked. I don’t why I asked that. I wanted to ask him about craft and being a famous author. Instead, I came up with that.

“Ooo arrr,” Everyone laughed. He walked over to Hannah and put his arm around her waist. She looked at him with a mixture of amusement and affection. I was surprised when I felt Fiona’s hand on the small of my back.

Next to come in was an androgynous young woman with a shaved head. I couldn’t help but admire the shape of her skull. People with very short hair always fascinated me and this person had a beautifully shaped head.

Millie said, “this is my partner Alex. Alex prefers to use gender neutral pronouns.” Alex lent over and took my hand. The handshake was firm and the other hand stayed in the pocket of their grey trousers. A very male gesture I observed. But perhaps I was over analysing.

We sat down to eat. “Susan, this food is amazing, thank you,” Fiona said to nods of agreement from around the table. You could tell how good it was from the fact that conversation had died down. Everyone was focused on eating. Conversation returned once we’d consumed the starter and started on the main.

“How did you two meet?” I said to Alex who was sat next to me.

“I’m a computer game designer, we met at a conference.”

“Some jerk was trolling me at the time,” Millie explained, “He posted online that I’d be there and that people should go down and protest. We ended up hold up in the conference room of the hotel for hours while the police checked out a fake bomb.”

“Shit, what was the jerk annoyed about?” I was fascinated.

“I said a game was sexist because it allowed the player to hit a woman, and all the female character had huge knockers.” Millie said matter of fact. Chris nearly spat his beer out.
The conversation turned to work. Fi discussed Lloyd’s. Chris, Rich and I, publishing. I noticed that Hannah had gone quiet.
“Is everything OK?” Susan asked softly. Hannah didn’t look up. She mumbled, “It’s fine.”

Chris crossed his arms. “It’s not fine. You need to say something.”
Hannah rolled her eyes, “I’m getting hassle from this union official.” She took a deep breath. “He grabbed my arse the other day. Chris wants me to report it.”

“You need to report it!” Chris banged his fist on the table making it shake. A little bit of wine spilt out of my glass.

She looked up at the ceiling. “It’s not the right time. The party is in such a mess, it’d only make things worse…” She looked up at the ceiling. “To be honest, I dread going into work every Monday.” Susan had got up and put her arm around her friend.

“Bugger the party!” Chris looked angry, but calmed down enough to put a reassuring hand on Hannah’s shoulder.

Susan and Fi nodded. Fi said, “You’d think it’d be bloody better but it isn’t,” and then she told a story of how she had been harassed early in her career. How one of the men in her office had programmed a key on his keyboard to say, “fucking bitch,” and how he pressed every time she walked past. Susan told how, when she started, she’d go home in tears every night because the old school journalists would make lewd comments and tell her she had no business there.

It was hard to picture Susan, confident, powerful Susan, coming home crying. I started to tear up, remembering Jamie and Felix. Susan, who stood across the table from me, and said, “Kelly, are you crying?”

Everyone turned to look at me. “S-sorry. I was on this photoshoot a couple of months ago. I only did it because my bastard w-husband left me flat broke. It’s not enough that they dressed us like mermaids and put us in nets, the photographer made these horrible comments and waved his…a” I felt everyone staring. “Sorry, it’s not even comparable. Sorry.” Fi put her arm around my waist. She pulled me closer and kissed my cheek. She was laughing, but not at me.

Rich pushed his chair back. “I think we could all do with a breather. How about port in the garden before dessert?”

Everyone agreed this sounded like a good idea. As everyone else helped themselves to port and brandy, Alex came over to me. By this time I’d calmed down a little. “Not drinking?” I asked.

“I don’t. I had some bad experiences back when I was a teenager. Alcohol and drug abuse is big problem in the community, you know.”

I didn’t. “Sorry, the community?”

She looked at me. “The trans community,” I stopped dead; what did Alex mean? “Forgive me for asking, but my trans-dar went off as soon as we met.”

“Am I that obvious?” I wasn’t sure if I should say I was trans, since I didn’t choose this although neither did Alex. Or Matt. I had to explain the pregnancy though. I explained the nanosuit and how Jamie tricked me.

She listened quietly and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. And no, you are anything but obvious.” I pointed to my tum. She laughed and said, “No, it’s just an instinct. The way you look for approval from the other women. Little things like that. Are you going to tell Susan and Rich?”

“I feel like I should. Like I’m hiding something important.”

“It’s up to you. No one should have to ‘come out’ unless they are sure they are ready. It’s not as easy as they make out in fiction.” I thought about Matt and realised how true that was.

“It just feels like I’m deceiving them. I feel bad, especially when Susan and Rich have been so good to me. Susan even said I had a ‘unique female voice’”
We laughed, me nervously, Alex was more relaxed. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re very female.” She looked me up and down. “Whether you chose it initially, you were clearly meant to be a woman and not just because of that,” she said. “Me on the other hand, I’m stuck between two camps.”

“Can I ask why you don’t identify as one or the other?”

“I always felt more male than female, as long as I can remember. But my experiences have mostly been female. In our society, female is like black. You’re still the ‘other’. I could be 90% male and 10% female. The 10% would be what marked me out as different.” They ran their hand over their shaven head. I noticed how thin Alex’s wrist were. I noticed the hardened skin on the underside.
We took a taxi home. Fi was a little pissed and I didn’t fancy walking any further in these damn shoes.

Fi put her arm around me, and I laid my head on her shoulder. “That was fun, they were fun people,” she said. “Ooh, I’m going to feel this in the morning,” she said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had this much.” She had had a few glasses with dinner and then the port, along with everyone else. Not that much, but it is if your drinking consisted of one or two once a week at quiz night. I smiled and rested one hand on my baby bump and the other unconsciously on her leg. She made no effort to move. “Rich and Susan took the news well, I was proud of you,” Just before we left, I’d taken them to one side with Fiona and told them about the nanosuit and my being, for want of another better term, transgender.

“They reminded me of the liberal parents meeting the black boyfriend in some 80s sitcom,” I said.

Fiona laughed, “That’s very cool Kelly, obviously we completely support you,” she did a very bad impression of Rich’s American accent. It was enough to make me laugh.

“It’s felt wrong since I first met them. I didn’t tell them because I didn’t want them to drop me as a client. It was just selfish, like Jamie.”

Fi took my face in her hands. “Stop it! You are nothing like Jamie,” and then she kissed me. A proper kiss, not just a peck. Do you know in France they call a French kiss and English kiss? I had no idea why that fact popped into my head at that moment.

We pulled away and neither of us said anything for the rest of the ride. Reaching home I got out of the car in a daze. I half expected Jamie to be there ready to admonish me for cheating. I hated that I felt that way, but I did.

We got home and she said, “Oh shit. I have to take Matt to his Youth-Litter-Picking thing in Springfield Park at 6am tomorrow.”

“I’ll take him,” I said. “You sleep it off. I don’t sleep anyway,” I said, with a smile.

She smiled and gave me another kiss, a peck on the cheek this time. “Thank you for doing it. I need to lie down. The car keys are by the door.” Within minutes, I could hear her snoring.

That night, I lay awake in bed staring at the thin wall that separated our two bedrooms. Did I want to be on the other side? Did Fi want me? I had thought it was Jamie whom I wanted, now I wasn’t sure. I fell asleep around 12 and woke up around 3 AM. I knew I wouldn’t fall back asleep. I took my laptop into the garden and started work on the latest round of revisions. Wrestling with a particularly gnarly plot hole Susan had spotted took all my focus, finally drowning everything else out. After about two hours I opened up my email just to distract myself further. On an impulse I started an email to Bill, ‘Hi Bill,’ I wrote, ‘I think I need to come with you to meet mother. Room for a little ‘un?’

I sat staring at the email until I heard Matt moving about. I looked at the time on my phone, 5:15am. I had to get moving. I hit send.

I got up to make him breakfast. He came into the kitchen, hair matted with sleep and scratching his armpits. Whatever male habits I lost, he gained. “Where’s mum? We have to be at the park at 6.”

“We had, uh, a long night,” she said. “She was tired so I’m letting her sleep.”

“Heh heh, long night.” He was old enough and smart enough to figure it out.

“Well, anyway, I hope you don’t mind if I come instead.”

He smiled. “Cool. Can I have eggs and bacon?”

While I cooked, we talked. “Is Saff going to be there too?” I teased.

He refused the bait. “Yes.”

“Does she need a lift?” I said, with a smile.

He looked at me and said, forcefully but with a smile. “No thank you. Her dad’s bringing her, which is good.”

“Is he better?”

“Saff says so. Says her dad’s more normal. Says he doesn’t believe all that stuff like her mom.”

“That’s good. I don’t mind going, but why are you up at 6 on Sunday to pick up rubbish?”

He sighed. “It’s not rubbish picking, it’s park beautification. Cleaning the rugby pitch. Painting a mural in the playground. That sort of thing. She doesn’t get it. Besides, the programme leader asked us. Said we didn’t have to but mum said it would be smart to go.”

I took the keys from the bowl by the door and we left quietly. I hadn’t driven since I put on the nanosuit and wasn’t sure how it would go, given all the changes. I wedged myself behind the wheel and we went on our way.

We didn’t talk much since it was not even 6 AM. I had been up for almost three hours but Matt was still wiping sleep from his eyes. He asked how the party went.

“Fun. Lots of interesting people.” I told him about Millie and her column. He laughed when I told him how all I could come up with for Chris was, “Are you from the West Country?” I debated telling him about Alex. I thought they could be role model for him but, as I said the words in my head, I realised that it was condescending (“look, they’re trans too and they design games!”). Instead, I just said, “her partner Alex designs games.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “Glad you and mum had a good time.”

We got to the park just before 6. There were a whole bunch of kids wearing Wood Street t shirts milling about slowly.

A young man, in his early twenties, came over. “Matt, glad you made it.” He offered his hand. “I’m Johnny. You can’t be Matt’s mum,” he said with a smile. I appreciated his attempt at flattery this early in the morning.

“Ha ha no. Hi, I’m Kelly, Kelly Cooper. I’m a friend of Matt’s mum. Well, Matt too.” I don’t know why I was nervous. “So, what can I do to help?”

He smiled, looking me up and down. “Whatever you’d like or nothing at all. I mean most of the other parents aren’t staying.”

I figured I’d let Fi sleep awhile, so I said, “I don’t mind if Matt doesn’t.”

He kissed me on the head and said, with a smile, “I’ll let you know.” Over his shoulder, I saw Saff come in, with a white man in his 40s, who I assumed to be her father. From a distance, I saw her holding his hand. As they approached, she dropped it, clearly not wanting anyone to see.

Saff walked over, with a big smile. “Hey, Matt, I’m so glad you came.”

“Uh, hey Saff,” he said, with the same smile. “I told you I would. This is going to be fun.” I smiled, thinking these are the same words said by generations of men trying to impress generations of women. Chick flick? Going to be fun! Crafts fair? Can’t wait! Experimental feminist dance troupe? You read my mind!

Saff’s dad coughed. Saff said, “Oh, sorry. Matt, this is my dad. Dad, this is Matt Walters and his aunt Kelly.”

Matt nervously stuck out his hand. I could see him willing eye contact. “Nice to meet you sir.”

Saff’s dad looked at him sternly. “You too, young man. So you and Saffron work together at Wood Street, I take it.” I stifled a laugh at work together. Matt gave me a quick glare.

“Yessir. We work with the same age. Uh, eight year olds. I mean, I work with the boys and Saff, Saffron, works with the girls. But sometime we do things together. I mean, with the kids and all.” He turned beet red. “Saffron’s great. With the kids, I mean.”

“Mmmm,” Saff’s dad said. “Work together. Good.”

Just then, the work leader said, “OK, volunteers, gather up here!” Matt and Saff, grateful for the reprieve, ran over.

After they were out of earshot, Saff’s dad let out a laugh. He stuck out his hand, “Richard Mitchell.”

I laughed, although I felt bad. I had been on the receiving end of that inquisition more than once. “Kelly Cooper,” I said.

“Very nice to meet you. Did I scare him enough?” He said, with a big grin.

I laughed, “I’d say so.”

“That’s my duty as a father. Make the boy afraid. Even if they just,” and he rolled his eyes, “work together. I imagine your father did the same.” Um, not exactly, I thought.

I laughed, as we watched them walk off together to clean the playground. They kept fidgeting like they wanted to hold hands, but were afraid we’d see. “Saff’s a great girl. We met her by the Spar one day. Very polite. You and your wife raised her well.” I almost mentioned how she had come over, but thought better, knowing what Matt said about her mum. “So are you planning on staying around,” I asked.

He yawned. “I hadn’t much thought about it. It’s bloody early but, if I go home, the younger ones will be up and about.”

“How many do you have?”

“Three. Saff’s the oldest. Then there’s Addo, well Richard Addo, but we call him Addo, he’s nine and Amie, she’s seven. Oh, and Ellen’s nephew Amadou is staying with us. He’s sixteen.”

“Wow, I can see why you’re so tired,” I joked.

He laughed. “How far along are you, if you don’t mind me asking.” I imagine if it were Ellen, she’d just ask. And then tell me about all of her pregnancies.

I smiled. “Five months.”

He laughed, “Enjoy the calm before the storm. What brings you to Walthamstow? Are you from around here?”

Um, my wife tricked me into a nanosuit and got me pregnant. And then left me destitute and 25. “No. My husband’s an actor. He’s on a shoot in Iceland and Fi and Matt generously allowed me to stay with them.” I realised that the shoot would be wrapping soon. I shuddered, thinking of her coming back to London. I wasn’t ready for her.

“Are you OK?” Richard said.

“Sorry,” I lied. “The baby moved around a little. He’s usually not up this early.”

“Ah, I remember that,” he said. “Is it a boy?”

“I don’t know. The sonogram is next week. I guess I just call the baby ‘he.’” As I stood there, I didn’t know what I wanted the baby to be. Could I be mum to a girl? To a boy?

“Saff would tell you that you need to less gender-biased,” he laughed. “Drives Ellen just about barmy.”

I smiled. “That’s to be expected at this age.” I wasn’t in the mood to discuss my family, so I lied. “I know I did.” Out of the corner, I saw Matt staring at us, intently. In his eyes, I could see, could you please leave? And take Saff’s dad with you.’ I laughed, “I believe that I am being asked to find alternate entertainment,” I joked.

Saff was giving James the same look. He laughed and said, “FA-ther, you are absolutely embarrassing me! If she only knew. Ah, let’s leave them alone.” For effect, he glared at Matt, which brought a death stare from Saff.

I smiled, “Uh oh, you will be paying for that later. Trust me.” I knew - from being on the receiving end of many such looks. “Well, it was very nice meeting you. Don’t worry. Matt’s a good, responsible kid.” I don’t know why I felt the need to add that.

He smiled. “I am sure. Very nice meeting you as well.”

I wedged myself behind the wheel and drove home. I opened the door quietly, in case Fi wasn’t up yet. She wasn’t. I puttered around on my laptop for an hour and a half. I started to type an email to Siggy five times, to ask when shooting would wrap but decided not to find out. I wasn’t sure what I would do with the information.

Around about 9:30, Fi woke up. She came out of the bedroom, wearing her robe. She had bags under her eyes and muttered, “My head. I need coffee.”

I laughed. “Like old times, Fi.”

She smiled weakly. “Except that we’re a lot older. Well, I am,” she said, looking at me.

“I’ll make it. Sure you don’t want the hair of the dog?” I joked. She turned green. “Kidding.”

I made her a cup and brought it over. She took a big sip, holding the cup in two hands. “Thanks, Kells. I needed that. About last night…”

I said, “It’s OK. You were more than a little pissed, Fi.”

She patted the cushion next to her, as if to say ‘sit.’ “You don’t do anything drunk that you wouldn’t do sober,” she said.

I choked on my water. “Come again?”

She smiled and put her hand on my thigh. “I can’t explain it Kells. I guess, I just, since you moved in, and everything. I mean I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

I was torn. On the one hand, this was my dream at Uni. On the other hand, my dream didn’t involve me being pregnant. And married. To a woman who was now a man. I wasn’t sure what was what. “I’m not,” I said, with a smile.

“Good,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. Without speaking she leaned in giving me a kiss on the lips. Not a French kiss, just a kiss.

Nine Months

Month Six

Kelly is a man trapped in a female body suit and now pregnant. He is slowly coming to terms with his situation and discovering feelings he didn’t know he had.

Things get a little darker for one of our characters. Our love goes out to anyone of you who have had to deal with similar issues.

---

I took a deep breath and began typing the e-mail.

“Jeremy, I hope all is well. I was hoping that everything had died down from the blog and we might discuss my returning to the agency. Would you be available to meet for coffee? Let me know. Kelly.”

I hit send. I wasn’t sure I wanted to return but I needed money. The book was coming along great but, even when Rich placed it, the advance would be small. Jamie wasn’t going to return what was mine. I wouldn’t go back to modeling and, even if I could, what could I model - maternity wear, stretch mark cream? Fi was more than generous but it was time to stand on my two feet.

Half an hour later, I received a response.

“Glad to hear from the next Ian McEwan! I’d be happy to meet you and go over old times. I’ll see what I can do on the job front but obviously can’t make any promises. How about next Thursday at the Costa at 2? Jeremy.” It was funny that he chose Ian McEwan. For a man who spent his life chasing the next thing, his taste in novels still returned to a time when he was the next thing.

I was glad he chose Thursday. I had set up a meeting with Rich and Hannah in the morning and was happy to be able to fit it all into one outing. I debated whether to tell him of my change but decided to surprise him.

Thursday morning came around. I was wearing the blue dress and flats that Fi had bought me. I debated heels but it was getting hard enough to walk as was, without trying to balance myself on top of it.

I was making breakfast when Fi came in and kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t you look smart?” she said. “That smells delicious.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It’s spinach and feta.” She smiled. “I’m meeting Rich and Hannah at 11 and then Jeremy at 2.”

“Jeremy? Who’s that,” she said, sitting down at the table.

“My former boss.”

She looked concerned. “Catching up?”

I took a deep breath. “I thought I’d see whether I could get my old job back.”

“Whatever for?” I could see the look of consternation in her eyes.
“You’ve been more than generous, Fi, opening your home to me…” I said, as I brought over her omelette.

“Our home, Kells. It’s yours as well as mine.”

“And you’ve bought me clothes and I, uh, just wanted to help out.”

“Kells, if you wanted money, I have more than enough. You just had to ask.”

That’s the problem, I thought. I don’t want to ask. If I wanted to ask, I could’ve gone back to James. “I know, Fi. I just want to feel like I’m contributing around here.”

She looked hurt. “Kells, you do contribute. I mean what do you call everything you do, the cooking and cleaning and all?” I knew what I’d call it and didn’t want to call it anything for just that reason. “Besides, what about Matt?”

Matt walked in. “What about me?” He gave Fi a kiss and then me. He sat down. “May I have a cheddar and sausage scramble, Kells?”

“Of course,” I said.

“So, what about me?”

“Kells was going to talk to her old boss about her job. She feels that she doesn’t contribute around here.” That’s a low blow, I thought, bringing Matt into it.

“Will you still cook and everything?” That was Matt.

I smiled as I started scrambling the eggs. “Of course. I mean this probably won’t amount to anything anyway.”

Matt smiled, “Good on you, Kells. Go for it.”

“Thank you Matt. Please, Fi, I won’t do anything to interfere with things around here.”

“What about the book? That’s your dream.”

“I know but that’s getting close to done. Besides, it’ll do me some good to get out and about, especially before little Humphrey or Priscilla comes.” Before we had the sonogram and knew what I was having, Fi and I had started calling the baby ‘Humphrey’ or ‘Priscilla’ as a little in joke. If I had gastric reflux, it was Priscilla. If I farted, ‘Humphrey did it.’ “Please Fi, I need this. I need to see.”

She sighed, then relented. “I’d just hate to see you burning the candle at both ends,” she said, putting her hand on my belly.

“I know. Don’t worry. Besides, it’s just a meeting and I made a dog’s breakfast of it before I left.” I had told Fi about the blog.

She laughed. “Did you tell him about, well…”

I smiled. “I thought I’d surprise him.”

“Well, that it will be,” she laughed.

Matt finished his breakfast. “I’m off to the programme,” he said. “Bye, mum,” he said, kissing Fi on the cheek. “Bye, Kells,” he said, giving me the same kiss. “Good luck today.”

I put my hand on his arm, “Thanks. Have a good day.” I almost said, “Say hi to Saff for me,” but remembered at the last second.

Fi moved next to me and I rested my head on her shoulder. She started running her fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry Kells. I’m being selfish. If this is what you need, I support you.” It didn’t feel 100% sincere.

I had my meeting and then jumped on the Overground. After arriving at the correct station I went over to the Costa. I waited across the street on a bench until I saw him go in. He sat down, ordered a coffee and took a sip.

I smiled to myself. ‘Here we go,’ I thought. I walked over, threw my arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Jeremy,” I said loudly, as half the cafe turned around. The rest, good Londoners, didn’t look up from their phones.

“Erm, I’m sorry, miss, but do we know each other?”

I started to cry. Given my hormones, this was strangely easy to do. “You don’t remember me?” Now, the Londoners looked up. “At the party? You told me you could get me a job as a model. I believed you,” and I started to sob.

I could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His hand shook. I could see his coffee sloshing around. He looked around nervously. “I, uh, think you’re, uh, mistaken, Miss.”

“You’re Jeremy Peckham from Stoke-on-Trent. You told me how much I reminded you of your sister Olivia. And, now, now that I’m pregnant, you want to pretend I’m mistaken?” I yelled. I swear I saw phones out. ‘Bastard Dumps Pregnant Girl’ now headed to YouTube, I thought. I saw the women in the cafe looking for pitchforks and torches.

As Jeremy sweated, I decided to let him off. I whispered in his ear, “You ever shag an albino?” We had been at a party once where he had chatted up an albino woman. This was our inside joke through three agencies. “Yeah, it’s me, Kelly. Nanosuit. I’ll explain.”

He whispered through gritted teeth. “I’ll bloody kill you.”

I turned to the cafe and said, “And scene, ladies and gentlemen. Sorry for the scare. I wanted to get a natural reaction from him. Do you think I did?” The cafe applauded. “Come Nigel, let’s go,” I said, as I led him out of the cafe. I had no idea where this last part came from.

We walked about a block when he said, “Bloody hell, Kells.” He was laughing. “What the hell’s going on? I told you to lie low, not under.”

“Haha, Jeremy.”

“I mean, I know we’re all worried about turning forty, but you know, a smart pair of glasses, a new suit, maybe a sports car…”

“Having fun, Jeremy?” I laughed.

“Not as much as you apparently.” We sat on a bench. “Seriously, what the hell happened?” With that, I recounted the whole story, from my firing (which he knew) through the nanosuits through Iceland to here. When I finished, he said, “Hmmm.”

“Hmm? That’s all you have? Hmmm? And you’re a bloody creative director?”

He paused and twirled his glasses with his fingers. He paused, “We’ve known each other a long time, Kelly.” Whenever someone begins a sentence like that, you know it’s not good.

“Yeah, and?”

“Seems a bit odd the whole thing to me. I mean I don’t understand science. I don’t know how a circuit works much less all this,” he said, waving his hand up and down. “It just seems odd to me that all this happened by accident.” I started to get upset. Not at him per se, rather at myself. He was only saying what I had been thinking when I chose to think about it, which wasn’t often. I was too busy getting through each day and thinking about what was to come to think about what had been. I could feel the baby kick. He kicked when I got upset. I took some cleansing breaths like Dr. Patel recommended. I didn’t want the cortisol to get to the baby. “Are you OK, Kelly?” he said, with genuine concern. “I didn’t mean to get you upset.”

“I’m fine, Jeremy. Not to be weird, but the baby just kicked. He does that when I get upset. I know, weird, huh?”

He smiled. “That’s the least weird thing so far. I wasn’t suggesting anything, y’know. It’s just bloody strange. Like something off ‘Black Mirror.’”

I laughed. “Tell me about it. Anyway, if I haven’t blown up my chances today, I wanted to talk to you about getting work. Am I still persona non grata?”

He laughed. “You stopped being a topic about two and a half months ago. I mean, the millena-twats circled your cubicle like jackals before the seat got cold but everyone else,” and he made a pfft sound. On the one hand, I was glad that I had been forgotten. On the other hand, I had been forgotten. “We could probably get you back on assignment. Not B & Q, obvs.”

“Obvs.” It sounded ridiculous, two grown men saying ‘obvs.’ Well, one grown man and me. “I’d really appreciate anything you can do.”

“Short of cash?” he said, taking out his wallet.

“Put that away. I mean, yeah, I need the cash, but I’m kind of looking to get back to get back too. Get some of the old Kelly back.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not sure that’s possible, mate. Or should I say, ‘babe?’” He grinned.

“That’s bloody sexist. I hope you don’t think I’m that sort of woman.”

“Oh, please, you silly cow. You slept with someone who promised you a job.”

“Areshole,” I laughed. “Like I’d sleep with you.”

“Have you slept with anyone? I mean besides Jamie.”

“Are you bloody seriously asking me that, you tosser?” I laughed. “God no. Fuck’s the matter with you?”

“You’ve got a bloody vag, mate. I’d think you’d want to give it a go and all,” he was laughing so hard, he could barely get the words out.

“You would. Besides, by the time I found out, I was three months gone. I don’t think anyone wants to be puked on during it.”

He laughed, “Been to Amsterdam? Anyway, I’d need to run it by Mark.” Suddenly, he smiled. “What do you say to scaring the crap out of him like you did me? You owe me that.”

“Sure,” I said. “Oh, by the way,” I said, taking out the Grazia. “Look at this shite people are putting out.” I turned to the page. “Lure him to your net? Christ.”

He laughed. “That’s ours.” He looked at the page. “That you?” he said, pointing to me.

I sighed. “Yes. I needed the money.”

He smiled. “I’d shag the other two before you.”

----------

I came home around 5 and started dinner. I had stopped by Waitrose, and picked up salmon, dill and asparagus. Between Rich and Jeremy, I was feeling good and wanted to make something special for Fi and Matt.

I had changed and was in the kitchen prepping everything when Matt came out of his room. He came over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Kells. How was your day? How was the meeting with your old boss?”

I smiled, thinking of the scene in the Costa. I was going to say something but figured I’d wait for Fi. “Good. How was programme? How’s your work colleague? Sasson? Sandra? What’s her name again?”

He laughed. “That’s got old, Kells. She’s good. She asked if she could see the sonogram.”

“Of course, she can!” I liked this girl.

We had a copy attached to the refrigerator with a magnet. Matt picked it up and looked at it. “It’s really bloody amazing,” he said, with a smile.

“It is,” I said. “I can’t believe it either.”

He looked at me and said, “Are you ever sorry about it? I mean that...I dunno...you’re like this?” He looked ashamed. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. Forget it.”

I put my arm around him. “Matt, don’t apologise. It’s totally normal to ask.”

“Are you sure?” I wasn’t sure how Fi would respond, but I felt I needed to answer. He, of all people, had a right, a need to know.

“Yes, I’m sure. Am I sorry about it?” I took a deep breath. “I mean I’m sorry how it happened. I didn’t choose this, it got chosen for me. And it was weird when I found out. And I was angry. At Jamie. And I still am. But am I sorry I’m like this? Not anymore. Not really.” That was the first time I had ever articulated that.

Then he said, “If you could have chosen it, would you have? Like if she had asked you beforehand?”

I was afraid to answer this question. First, I didn’t know what the answer should be. Matt was mature for fifteen, much more than I was at that age, but I imagine he had to be. Plus, they were exposed to a lot more information now than we were. On the other hand, living with a fifteen year old had taught me that they had infinite information but no context. I didn’t know how he would take whatever I said. Furthermore, I had no idea what the answer was. I genuinely didn’t, so I answered. “I really don’t know Matt. That’s kind of an impossible question.” He looked dissatisfied with that, so I continued. “She did this to me without asking. And to answer yes or no would be like validating what she did. Does that make sense?”

“Kinda.”

I could tell it didn’t. “So, it’s like if she had asked me, would I have? I dunno but she didn’t, and it’s hard to go back and imagine what I would have done had she done the right thing.” I took another deep breath. “Probably not.” He looked upset. I gave him a hug and looked him in the eyes. “But that’s because I didn’t know how amazing it was. I was a stupid guy back then.”

He smiled. “Can I ask another question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever think that this is who you really are?”

I dropped the knife I had in my hand and I started to cry uncontrollably. Matt came over and took me to a chair. The baby was kicking up a storm and I couldn’t stop to breathe. Matt put his arm around me and began to cry. “Sorry, Kells. I am so sorry. I am really, really sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Please. Please. Please stop crying. Please. I am so sorry. I never said it. Please. I don’t mean to hurt you. I was wrong.” Now, we were holding each other, crying.

I regained my composure, sort of. “It’s OK, Matt,” I said, as he kept crying. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I know,” and I took a deep breath, “how hard it’s been for you. I mean I don’t know. I can’t know. I mean it’s a fair question to ask. I was just afraid to ask it.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this to a 15 year old. To Fi’s son. I had probably not just crossed, but obliterated, the line.

He stopped crying and rubbed his eyes. “I guess I just thought. I mean, it’s a suit. You could take off the suit and you didn’t. I just thought…”

“Do you want to talk, Matt? I’ll just listen.”

He looked at the floor, and then at me. “I don’t know. It’s just like since I was little, I dreamed of what you have. Like I could put on a suit and be a boy, be who I was. And it’s like all you want to do is tear off this suit, y’know?”

I thought about that first day, that first week. How I had pulled and scratched at it. “Yeah, I do. I actually do.”

“And everyone keeps trying to put you in the suit. Like, when you get older, you’ll really like it and you never do. And then they let me try on this suit and I like it, but no one else does. Like you’re this freak…”

I put my arm around him. “You’re not a freak. I know you’re not a freak. Saff doesn’t think you’re a freak.”

“Mum does,” he said, sadly.

“No, she doesn’t. She loves you.”

“I know she loves me,” he said. “But she still doesn’t understand.”

“She’s coming around. I mean I’m not defending her although I think you’re wrong about her. But, it’s like you give birth to this child,” and I put my hand on my belly. He had calmed down. “And you have these hopes and dreams and you want to protect them with all your power. To make sure they don’t get hurt. And,” I started to tear up again, “you see them hurting and you want to stop it and you can’t. You want them to be happy and healthy and comfortable and, when they aren’t, you feel like you failed. I think she feels like she failed you. Not because you’re you but because you were in pain for so long.”

He said, wiping his eyes, “She didn’t fail. This is me. I think she’d rather me be Saff.”

“That is absolutely not true, Matt. She loves you. She doesn’t want Saff. She wants you. I just think that, first your dad and then this, it was a lot to face. Your mum is the strongest woman I know. It was just too much. I mean, did she fight going to the gender specialist?”

“Erm, no.”

“Did she go to school to let you be Matt?”

“Erm, yes.”

“Does she let you have that bloody awful haircut?” I said, with a smile.

“Shut up,” he grinned.

“She loves you, Matt. She loves you. Matt. When we’ve been out, she always talks about her son. Not stammering. No stuttering. She talks about her son Matt. I think she probably has a hard enough time with you growing up at all.”

He came over and gave me a kiss. “Thanks, O.M.”

“O.M.?”

“Other mum,” he smiled.

----------------

I heard the knock on my door. It was about 11 P.M.

Fi said, “I saw the light on. I figured you were up.”

“Yeah. I can’t sleep.” As of late, I couldn’t fall asleep comfortably. I tended to sleep on my back but, as the baby got bigger, the weight made that more and more difficult. Plus, as Dr. Patel had told me at the last appointment, “pregnancy loosens the joints to prepare you for childbirth,” which made me shudder a little. And made me excited. Which also made me shudder.

Fi laughed, “I can’t imagine why. My god, look at all these pillows!” To make myself more comfortable, I had a pillow under my head, and one under my belly and another between my legs. Oh, and one behind my back, just in case. “Where do you sleep?” She started picking up the pillows off the bed.

“Where are you taking my pillows?” I said.

“To my room,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Grab those two, OK?”

“Fi, I can’t take your bed. Where will you sleep?”

She smiled. “My bed. It’s a king size, Kells. There’s more than enough room.”

I thought of John’s side, the way that she hadn’t moved anything since he died. The way that even the sheet on his side stayed flat. “Are you sure?” I said.

She smiled. “I’m sure. It’s just us girls.” Yup, just us girls. “Don’t try any funny business,” she said, laughing.

“I don’t think I could even find my business, with this belly and all,” I joked. “Seriously, thanks, Fi.”

She gave me a light kiss on the lips. “Stop it. You deserve a good night’s sleep.”

We dragged all of my pillows into Fi’s room. I gingerly got into the bed, not wanting to disrupt anything on John’s side. It felt strange to sleep in a big bed after all these months. Even in Iceland, we only had a large double.

Fi watched me get ready for bed with barely contained amusement. I had developed a system for positioning my pillows. First, the pillow between my legs. I would place between my legs then lay down. Then, the belly pillow. After three months in the single, I knew where to place it. Now, in a king size bed, I didn’t know where. Fi watched me squirm around and try and position myself until, sufficiently exasperated, she came over and said, “Oh, let me help you.” She placed it under my belly just so.

“You didn’t go through this with Matty?”

She smiled and looked up. “Sorry. It’s been a while. I did. Eventually, John went and bought me one big body pillow. Said he didn’t want to sleep in the Marks and Sparks bedding department.” She sniffled a little.

“Sorry Fi, I didn’t mean…”

“Nonsense, Kells. I know you didn’t. It all goes so fast.” She regained her composure. “Let’s put this one behind your back,” she said, fluffing it. “How does that feel?”

“Thanks, Fi. This feels much better. Thank you.”

She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Of course. Goodnight, Kells.”

“Goodnight, Fi.” It took me a while to fall asleep. Partly because of the baby. Even in a larger bed, I was still six months along. Mostly, because I was in Fi’s bed. But it was just us girls.

---

I looked at picture on the fridge, slightly obscured by the two magnets. One the shape of an orange, the other a cherry. I hadn’t been able to stop myself coming back to it for days now. Sitting down, I felt Fi’s hand on my shoulder.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“He is,” she squeezed my shoulder. “He’ll be a handsome boy, what with his mother’s genes.”

I assumed she meant me, but I thought of Jamie.

“Do you want something to drink? Elderflower tonic?”

“Hmmm? Yes thanks,” I patted her hand before she took it away. I watched her back as she moved around the kitchen. Since we started sharing a bed, it was like we were playing house. “Matt will be home soon, I should put dinner on.”

“Don’t be silly, we’ll get a take-away, my treat.”

I tried to push myself up, not an easy task anymore, “I don’t want the two of you surviving on take-away when I’m away.” It was weeks away but I’d already begun freezing meals for them.

She pushed me back down in the chair with relative ease. “We survived before you, Mary Poppins.”

I could see her mind was made up. Perhaps I had been going crazy with the healthy eating, “I hear Indian food is supposed to be good…”

“That’s for getting the baby out of you,” she laughed.

I clutched my stomach, as if frightened my son was going to fall out. My son. I played with the concept in my head. Fiona had picked up her phone and was typing out a text. “I’ll let him know what we’re planning,” she said. “Where is he tonight?”

“I think they’re having movie night for the volunteers.” I smiled, thinking of him and Saff holding hands, maybe sneaking a kiss before the others would make kissing noises and silly comments. “Captain America - Civil War, I think. He should be home soon.”

She shrugged. “I’m glad he’s so involved with programme,” she said, looking a little guilty. “I mean I’m very proud of him and everything,” her shoulders sank,

“It’s just this is the last summer before he leaves high school. I had hoped to see more of him…”

I felt bad. The time was approaching when I’d need to tell her about Saff. I felt conflicted. I liked sharing a secret with Matt. He asked me not to, but she was his mum.

“We’ll wait for Matt.” I waddled over to the laptop and opened up Hungry House, looking for Indian.

We waited, and waited. After about an hour and a half, the hunger became too much for us and we ordered, Fi making sure to include Sag Aloo and a garlic naan for Matt. “We can always reheat it when he gets in,” I tried to reassure her.

I kept looking at my phone. It was past 10pm now. It wasn’t unusual for Matt to stay out late; it was unusual for him to fail to at least text. I knew he’d be with Saff. I could remember how easy it was to lose your sense of time during the flush of first love. To lose any sense. Still I needed to tell Fi. She wasn’t even able to concentrate on Line of Duty.

My phone started buzzing making me jump. I didn’t recognise the number, “Er, hello?”

“Is this Kelly Cooper?” I vaguely recognised the voice.

“Urm yes, who’s this?”

“Richard. Richard Mitchell. We met at the park. Saffron gave me your number,” he said uncertainly. My blood ran cold. “Kelly, there’s no easy way to say this. I’m in hospital with Matt and Saff.” There was a long pause, one in which I could feel every beat of my heart, “I’m afraid Matt has been assaulted.”

“What?” I said. “Is he OK?” I heard myself speaking, as if I was listening in on someone else. My voice was loud and shrill.

Fi came over, “What? What’s wrong?” The look in her face told me that she knew before I said anything.

“Matt. Is in hospital. Assault.” Richard said more, but the buzzing in my head drowned most of it out. All I could focus on was Fiona’s face, all the colour having drained away. I heard him say, “they say the injuries are serious.” I gasped, nearly dropping the phone.

“… and they want to keep an eye on him.”

“Sorry, Richard. I dropped my phone what was that?”

“He’s in a bad way, but he’ll live.”

“Oh thank God!”

Richard hung up, muttering something that made it clear he was in no mood to discuss God at that moment. I looked up. Fiona was looking at me, her expression one of total fear.

The next few minutes passed like some waking nightmare. I gathered up some clothes for Matt in a bag. The pyjamas he never wore, a few t-shirts, pants and jeans. Fiona was catatonic, moving like a trauma victim. I had to steer her out of the door. On the way, she tried to pick up her car keys. I pried them from her hand. She just looked at me like I’d asked her an extremely difficult question. The car journey was remarkably easy. Thankfully by that hour the streets had cleared.

“So,” Fiona seemed to be coming back to earth, “Who was that? On the phone, you seemed to know them.”

“The dad of one of the volunteers. We met at the park thing.”

She nodded her head slowly. I wondered how much of it she understood.

“Fi, there’s something I need to tell you,”

She turned towards me, she looked like she was trying to listen through a terrible headache.

“The guy, well his daughter. Matt has a kind of a thing for her. And her him. They have a thing. For each other.”

There was silence. Fiona just looked at me.

“OhmyGodFiI’msoooosorryIshouldhavetoldyouearlierbutIthoughtitwasjustacrushthenitwasmoreandIdidn’tknowwhattodo.” I had to stop, if only so I could breathe.

Fiona just nodded. We reached the hospital and parked up. As I found a pay machine, Fiona looked at me, unable to speak. She walked towards the door. “Go,” I said, “I’ll come find you.” I nearly added ‘If you still want me to.’

I found the room number from the reception. The journey up in the lift felt like my last walk on death row. What state would Matt be in? Would he want to see me? Would Fiona let me? I felt bad for worrying about myself.

As I neared the room, I could see Saff and Richard. Saff was in tears, sobbing into his chest.

“Hey,” I said softly. They both looked up.

Saff took me by surprise when she launched herself up, rocket like, throwing her arms around my neck.

“Oh Kelly, it was awful,” Her body shook with every sob. I looked over at Richard. He stood behind her. I felt a huge amount of pity for him. He looked so lost and helpless.

“Fiona? Matt’s mum?” I asked. He nodded at the closed door. “What happened?”

Saff crumpled, crying even harder than before. The girl must drink pints of water back to back to be able to produce so many tears.

“It was Saff’s cousin, my nephew, and some friend,” and he spat the word ‘friend’ like a curse. Richard clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. At that moment, his phone started buzzing.

Richard looked at Saff. “It’s your mother.” Saff shook her head furiously. He walked away, looking at the phone, agitated.

Saff and I sat, her still clinging to me. “It was horrible,” she said. “They followed us, saying,” and she convulsed with sobs, “terrible things. Matt said to ignore them and walked away, but they kept following us. But, then Amadou’s friend...he grabbed me...and Matt tried to…” her voice trailed off, her head in her hands.

Richard returned. He was angry. Saff looked at him and then leapt up.

“I’m not leaving here. I’m NOT!” She balled her fists, unconsciously mirroring her father’s earlier gesture. “I’m staying here until Matt gets out. I don’t care what SHE says.” I could have kissed her.

Richard smiled at her, less a smile of happiness than relief. “I wouldn’t ask you to,” and he stroked her face.

“And I will NEVER go back if Amadou’s there!”

Richard saw the look of determination in her face and got a look of what I could only call pride. “We’ll cross that bridge if we need to. If we have to we’ll stay with your Aunty Ruth.”

I saw the door to the room open and Fi came out. I could only catch a quick glimpse of Matt, tubes running from his nose and an IV in his arm. My heart stopped, wondering why he needed that. Fi walked over, took my arm and pulled me to one side. ‘Well this was it,’ I thought, bracing myself for the worst, which I deserved. I’d let her and Matt down.

When we were out of earshot, I tried to pre-empt my bollocking, “Look Fi, I can’t apologise enough. I’ll pack my bags and be gone before you get back,” Fiona watched me as I spoke, her expression unreadable, “I’m sure Bill will take me…”

She looked at me. “What?”

“This is my fault. I hid this from you. If I had told you, we could’ve stopped this.”

She laughed. “Really? A 36 year old mum and a six months pregnant girl?” I started to say something about mums lifting cars off children but she put a finger to my mouth. She pulled me into a hug, which was not easy given the size of my stomach. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” my voice was a little muffled as my face was crushed into her neck,

“I’m so glad Matt is able to talk to you. I can’t believe I’ve pushed him away…”

“No, no it’s me. I should have told you. You’re his mother.”

She held my chin up, so I could see her gaze, “You’re his mother too.” I cried.

Fiona took me in to see Matt. It was hard to see him lying there taking shallow breaths. His right eye was swollen shut. The bruises on his face, and there were many, had already begun to turn purple. A horrible, nightmarish purple.

Shortly after that, two police detectives arrived, a man and a woman. It was gone midnight by then and both looked tired. He had a neatly cut beard and spoke with a West Midlands accent. She was short with a bowl haircut.

“My name is DS Leach, you can call me Susan. This is my colleague DC Alderson.”

“Thomas,” he introduced himself.

We nodded in unison, not really sure what we were supposed to say.

“Can I ask which one of you is the mother?”

Fiona spoke before I had chance to, “We both are.” I took her hand.

“Of course,” Susan smiled weakly. “And the girlfriend?”

“That’s me.” Saff was standing behind the officers.

They asked us lots of questions. Had Matt being having much trouble at school, who are his friends etc. I felt bad because Fiona had to look to me to answer. After a while, Susan began directing her questions at me directly. Fiona stayed silent, her hand holding on tight to mine. Eventually, they took Saff and her dad into a different room to take their statements.

“Why are they asking so many questions?” Fiona took her hand away, crossing her arms.

“I suspect they need to establish a timeline, make sure everything connects up.” I’d watched a lot of police procedurals.

Fiona just nodded after a while she spoke, “It felt like we were on trial.”

The night turned into a blur. None of us could sleep and we slipped into an unspoken rhythm. There were two of us ‘girls’ by Matt’s bedside at any one time. The nurses wouldn’t let any more people into the room. I suspected it was so they could get in quickly in case of an emergency. I didn’t say anything to Fiona.

Around 4 AM, Richard tapped me on the shoulder. “Why don’t we go downstairs for a bite? You could probably do with something, as I recall,” he said with a smile, looking at Saff. The writer in me would say that he was remembering when his wife was pregnant with Saff, an easier time, one of hope. Saff went to get up and Richard said, “why don’t you stay here? Keep Matt’s mum company.”

Saff looked to me for help. “Don’t worry,” I said, “Fi doesn’t bite.” Fi laughed. Saff looked less than convinced.

“How are you holding up?” We were out in the corridor when Richard spoke.

“Urgh, I’m not. Just about keeping it together. You?”

“It’s all so strange. I just cannot understand how this happened. I just don’t,” and he shook his head, letting the sentence trail off.

We looked at a site map on the wall, trying to find the canteen.

“Do you think it’ll be open?”

He shrugged, “We’ll have to find out.”

The service area was closed, but the canteen was open, at least to sit in. There were several vending machines. I dithered for a while about risking a coffee. In the end, I chose a herbal tea and a chocolate bar as the lesser of two evils. Richard chose a black coffee, lots of sugar.

“What is your nephew - Amadou, right?” He nodded as I continued, “What’s he like?”

“Well up until now I’d have said Amadou’s nice, if a little intense,” he sighed, “Ellen’s brother sent him here to keep him out of harm’s way. When he started going to church with Ellen, we were pleased. There’s so much stuff out there to tempt teenagers, crime, drink, drugs, the usual, especially when you’re new. Perhaps we were looking in the wrong places.” He rubbed his temples.

“You know if you and Saff wanted to nip off and get a few hours sleep, I’m sure we could manage.”

He laughed hoarsely, “Like she’ll let that happen. I won’t even try, I’m not that stupid.” Then he looked away, “Also, I won’t take her back until I’m sure Amadou isn’t there.”

“You don’t think the police will have arrested them?”

“I don’t know,” he looked down at the table. “Ellen isn’t exactly communicating with me.”

I almost jumped up, baby and all. “She can’t possibly be defending him!”

“No. Not the attack at least. She just doesn’t think Saff should be seeing Matt,” he took a deep breath, “And she thinks maybe Matt provoked them a little.”

I slammed my fists on the table with such force that I woke the junior doctor napping at a table near the back. We looked at the junior doctor’s bemused expression and then at each other. We laughed.

He looked at his hands. “I can’t say I understand it. I’m a Quaker, a nice English religion. Raffles, cake sales and a past that includes using Christianity to excuse the evil of colonization. The nearest we have to extremism these days is passive aggressive emails.”

“How can someone as sweet as Saff come from someone so… bigoted. Sorry, I know she’s your wife… but.”

“Look, Ellen is a wonderful mother in most ways. And maybe we can’t understand it. She was a Christian in a mostly Muslim country, then a black woman in a white nation. The church was the one thing her family had. I don’t believe what she believes and I don’t condone what happened,” he sighed. “People are complex. Never entirely good, but not entirely bad either.”

I offered him a piece of my chocolate and we alternated silence and chatting, mostly about nothing. The weather - good, for now; the government - bad, for the foreseeable future, football - I was an Arsenal supporter. Apparently, Richard and Saff were a big Liverpool fans and had offered to take Matt to a game. I was surprised to hear that Matt had been enthusiastic about the idea. Outside the window, the sun rose over East London. It was going to be another beautiful day.

When we returned to the room, I was surprised to find Fiona and Saff laughing. Judging by the watery glints in their eyes, there had been some crying as well.
“Did you know that Matt tried to get everyone at school to call him Matt-dog last year?” Fiona looked at me. It was good to see her smiling again.
“No, but I think it’s probably a good thing he’s unconscious right now.”
Fiona looked at Saff, “Go lie down, Saff,” she said, rubbing her hand. Saff did look tired. We all did.
Saff looked frantically between Fiona and her dad, “I’m not leaving him!”

I put my hand on Saff’s shoulder. “There’s a family room down the hall. Go lie down for a while. If there’s any change, we, I, will come get you.” She didn’t look sold.
“Come on,” her dad gestured, “You’ll be no use to Matt if you fall asleep as soon as he wakes.”
Once they had left I sat down next to Fiona, “How about you?”
“I’m not moving,” she replied firmly. I leaned my head on her shoulder. “He looks so peaceful,” she mumbled.
“He’ll pull through. He has to.”

She smiled. “Well, you’re really a mother now Kells. This is what it’s all about. All worry and little or no power to do anything about it.”
We sat there for a long time, just staring at Matthew, as if we could will him better.
“You should wash up Fi,” I squeezed her shoulder.
“Huh?”
“Go splash some water on your face, get a coffee. I can keep an eye on him.”
She didn’t speak, just nodded. She moved slowly out of the room, poised ready to dart back at the first sign of movement.
With Fiona gone, I moved up one seat so I was closer to him. His fringe was plastered to his forehead. As gently as I could I pushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes.
He blinked. I assumed it was involuntarily, until I heard him weakly say, “Aunty Kells?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Matt!”
“Where am I Kells?” His voice was weak and frightened. It reminded me of when he was little.
“You’re in hospital Matty. Everything is going to be OK.”

He moaned, pain written across his face. “How’s Saff? Is she OK?” He looked panicked.

“She’s fine, Matty,” I said, rubbing his hand, taking care to avoid the IV. “She wouldn’t leave your side all night. She’s just down the hall. I’ll go get her and your mum,” I said, trying to lift myself up.

He started to tear up. “No, please don’t. Please stay.”
I hugged him as best as I could. “It’s OK. You’re safe now. It’s going to be OK.” I didn’t know that but had to believe it. “I promise.”

From the door, I heard, “Matt!” I saw Fi in the doorway. “Thank God!” I pulled myself up and moved out of the way. The rest was an explosion of relief, hugs and tears.

While Fiona fussed over him, I went to fetch Saff and Richard. When I came in, Saff was lying, head on her dad’s lap while he gently stroked her head. He looked at me as if to figure out what was going on. I smiled.

He gently shook Saff. “Honey,” he said tenderly.

She opened her eyes and I told her the news. She leapt up and ran past me.

Half an hour later, the doctor examined Matt.

He pulled Fiona and me aside. “Well, besides the contusions on his face, he has two broken ribs and a bruised kidney. All in all though, he’s a lucky young man.”

“Lucky?” Fi and I both said. “How can you say he’s lucky?”

“Sorry. That may seem callous, but thankfully the shite, excuse me, that did this to him only kicked him in straight on the face. Had they kicked the side, he could be looking at brain damage or worse. And the kicks to the side only bruised the kidney, not lacerated it. He will recover from these injuries with hopefully no long-term damage.”

I felt like I breathed for the first time in hours and spontaneously hugged him. Fi laughed while he looked confused and said, “Uh, you’re welcome?”

While Saff fussed over Matt, Fi led me out of the room. “I saw you talking to Matt earlier, when you thought I wasn’t there.”
“Sorry Fi, I wanted to come get you but I couldn’t leave him alone…” I stopped because Fiona had taken hold of both of my hands. She pulled me into a long kiss.

“Kells, stop. Thank you for everything. Not just tonight but all the time. For being there for him. For...being his mum. The perfect mum. For...” and she stopped.

“What?”

“I could not ask for a better partner. A better…” and she paused again.

I took a deep breath, “Wife?”

She nodded. “Yes. Sorry.”

I smiled, “Don’t be,” and I took her hand. I was too tired and too happy to think.

She whispered, “I love you, Kells.”

“I love you too.” My head was spinning as we walked back into the room. Too many feels, as Matt would say. I didn’t know where to start. I only just remembered to let go of Fiona’s hand before Matt and the others saw us. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but as I caught his eye, Matt seemed to be giving me a satisfied smile.

---

Matt was in hospital for a week. By the second full day, he was up and shuffling along the halls, taking his IV pole with him. Fi and I walked on the either side, each holding an arm.

He laughed, “I’m not an invalid, you two.”

“Sorry, Matt,” Fi said, “We were….”

He rolled his eyes. “I know. I know. You were just so worried.” I laughed, glad to see the old Matt coming back, slowly but surely. We went past the nurse’s station, the nurses smiling at us as we walked past. We were a sight. A boy, his mum and his pregnant 25 year old other mum.

The week was a constant cycle of Matt’s friends, from school and the programme. The boys brought an XBox which they convinced the hospital maintenance staff to let them set up. It wasn’t hard; the janitors would come on off hours to play FIFA and GTA, bringing sweets that I guessed got lost on its way from the supply room to the service area. The nurses let it go, “as long as you keep it quiet.” They did as best as 15 and 16 year old boys could, which was poorly. The girls all fussed over him, bringing him snacks and balloons and cards. Matt enjoyed it immensely. Saff was, to say the least, not best pleased.

She pulled me into the hall. “Look at her,” she said, staring daggers through a horse-faced girl named Charlotte, “Oooh, Matty. You were so brave. Stupid cow.” I was surprised that she was willing to leave the room, although she never took her eyes off the door.

I smiled. “Saff, please. Like he would have anything to do with her.” I felt bad criticising this girl who was only trying to be nice, but I liked Saff better. “Besides, Fiona’s in there. She’ll make sure.”

“Yeah, well….”

She and I had been getting closer before everything, and had become closer now. “Saff,” I said, smiling, “would we let anything happen?” Fi had become very fond of Saff. She said that she was a good girl who cared for Matt. If I thought about it, I think she made it easier for Fi to see Matt as he was, a normal teenage boy. Saff smiled and I continued. “How’re things at home?”

“Dad says not good.” Saff had been staying with her aunt Ruth. “Says everyone back there has been calling mum constantly, asking how she could let all this,” she sneered, ‘all this’ “happen. Like it’s her fault the police took him. I mean, other than it was.” Since it happened, she wouldn’t speak to her mom. She blamed her for what Amadou did.

“Saff, Amadou and the other one,” I couldn’t bear to say his name, “did this. No one else.”

“Yeah, well, it’s all her bollocks that caused this. They remember all that Leviticus shite, but not Galatians or Matthew.” I was barely Anglican, my father taking us on Christmas Eve and Easter, unless we complained loudly enough and then we didn’t go. Our church was the VCR, our god Blackadder. I must’ve looked confused, because she said, “there is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor male or female, for you are all one in Christ.’ ‘Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and ignore the log in your own?’ Yeah, she dragged me enough. Guess I didn’t learn the right stuff.”

I was at a loss for words. I felt awful. No one this young should be this angry. “Saff, the police will take care of this. And whatever’s up there will take care of that.” I wasn’t sure what I believed but that wasn’t a discussion for Saff and me. “Matt’s going to be OK and that’s what’s important.”

Fi walked out of the room and Saff ran back in. There were five other kids in the room but the cost of young love was apparently eternal vigilance. We watched her stomp in and move Charlotte out of the way. “She’s a tough one,” said Fi, with no lack of admiration.

I laughed. “Reminds me of someone.” She put her hand on my leg. We had since stopped trying to hide public displays of affection, well as much as any two self respecting English women would. “Poor kid. She’s so angry.”

“So am I,” Fi said. “I can’t believe she hasn’t even tried to come around.” I knew who ‘she’ was.

“Richard has.” He had come every day. He brought cards from Addo and Amie. Amie’s was a riot of horses and rainbows and multiple marker colors. Addo’s said, “Get better soon,” and had a stick figure.

“He’s not her. It wasn’t his nephew that did this. It wasn’t his church that spread all that hate.”

---

Dressing for work didn’t use to be this hard. Most of the male creatives I knew walked around with their arses hanging out of their designer jeans. I hadn’t really paid attention to the female creatives. I remembered short skirts but I wasn’t really in a place to wear that nor was I sure that I would have wanted to be.

Fiona said, “You’re fortunate that you’re pregnant. Otherwise, it’s smart, but not too smart. Nothing overly revealing, because you don’t want the other women to think you’re like that. But you don’t want to cover up too much either, no one likes a prude. But, lucky for you, you don’t have to think that way yet.” Lucky. That was me. Lucky back pain. Lucky leaking from my breasts. Lucky incontinence. That’s me, Ms. Lucky. I was so focused on my ‘good’ luck that I ignored ‘yet.’ After several costume changes, I settled on a white shirt and a black mid-length pencil skirt. I felt awkward going to work in a skirt, if only for what Jeremy would say, but Fi said, “take it from me, it will be the most comfortable.” I chose my black trainers as I felt they’d be comfortable and match my skirt.

Jeremy was having his fun, showing me around the office. With his hand on the small of my back he led me into the ideas room.

“So everyone, let me introduce you to Kelly. That’s Kelly..?” He turned to look at me, I realised I hadn’t given him a fake surname.

I couldn’t use Cooper and wouldn’t use Rogerson. “Walters,” I said without thinking too much.

“Hi,” the three millennials waved at me. I recognised all of them. The two women, Otty and Liv came as a pair. They had come up together at Saatchi and joined us at the same time about two years ago. As far as I knew, they regarded the old Kelly as part of the furniture. Josh was a silent type who, if I was honest, had got on my nerves. Maybe it was the lumberjack beard on a face, a baby face, that never did a day’s physical labor, or perhaps it was the way he buttoned the top of his shirt up even when he wasn’t wearing a tie. All I knew about him outside of work was that he’d been to a Steiner School.

“Hey,” I took their hands one by one. At first I was unsure why they were still smiling until I realised they saw me as one of them. We chatted for awhile, what campaigns we’d worked on (I edited mine down slightly) and what I might be working on.

“I’m thinking of putting Kelly with Josh, help with the TK Maxx brochure. Give the female perspective,” He was loving it. Even the daggers Otty and Liv were staring at him didn’t take the shine off his shit-eating grin. “OK, I’m going to take Kelly into the office and talk details.”

As he led me away I caught Liv talking to Otty, “Typical, they get younger and younger.” I nearly laughed out loud when I realised she meant me. Get used to it. There’s always someone younger and newer.

“So what do you think of our offices Kelly?” Jeremy asked as he closed his office door behind me.

“Very much like my old place.”

“Seriously, how are you doing. How’s Matt?”

“Getting better. He’s back at home now. Fi’s taken some time off to be with him. To be honest I think he’ll be glad to have a break from two mothers fussing over him.”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows but I just looked straight back at him, not flinching. After all that Matt had been through, I owed him my honesty.

“Well good, let’s get down to business,” Jeremy was a little flustered. “So you will be coming back on a short term contract until November when you’re due. Two days a week, one in the office and one working remotely.”

I nodded, this is what we’d agreed.

“We think it’s best if your office day is Wednesday. We want you around for the weekly staff get-together,” Inwardly I sighed. The Staff get-together/meeting was the worst part of my working week. Everyone eager to prove how important their little project is. Meant to last an hour and a half they often ended up taking up the whole afternoon. Still, if they wanted to pay me to be bored out of my skull for half a day that was up to them so I said ‘OK’.

We chatted for a while, mostly about what had been happening in the office over the last few months. To be honest it was a relief. The internal politics that used to bore were a pleasant distraction. To be honest they just didn’t matter the way they used to.

“Right, let’s get started. I’m putting you with Josh for today. He can bring you up to date on the TK Maxx account.”

“Josh?” I couldn’t hide my annoyance.

“Yes Josh, he’s really stepped up since you left. And no one knows that account better.”

“It’s like totally awesome and everything,” I spoke in my best Trustafarian accent. It was probably unfair of me.

Jeremy led me out into the office, over to where Josh was sitting. I noticed it was my old spot.

“So Josh, I want you to take Kelly through the account. She’s very experienced for one so young so hopefully she can take quite a bit of work off your plate.”

With that Jeremy shook my hand and disappeared. I stood there feeling like it was my first day at big kid’s school.

Josh must have noticed my discomfort, “Kelly, let me get you a seat. Don’t mind Jeremy, he’s not that bad really.” Once we were seated he started taking me through the work. I was pleased to see it wasn’t anything too strenuous. The company had a new line coming out for Christmas and wanted to produce a promotional brochure for the free papers. It was mostly writing copy on how this skirt and those pairs of jeans were the latest thing. Bringing together various quotes from different fashion bloggers. The sort of stuff I could do in my sleep.

“I’m sure you can cope. If I can do it, anyone can,” He smiled, stroking his beard in a way that seemed older than his years.

I laughed, “The way Jeremy tells it you’ve been running this place,” since I left, “the last few months.”

“Well we had a bit of a crisis about six months ago. The old head copywriter left under something of a cloud.” I bit my lip, he must have taken it as a sign I wanted to know more. He leaned in, “Apparently he’s supposed to have insulted a couple of clients in some blog.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes, “Personally I liked the guy. He was a bit grumpy but he always made me laugh. I suppose his heart wasn’t in it anymore. Then again who still wants to be a copywriter in their 40s?”
40s? Bastard! “Well not me.”

“So what’s your escape plan?”

“I’m a writer,” He laughed and rolled his eyes. “No really! I have an agent,” he continued to chuckle. “Susan Crisp is my editor and everything.”

“We’ll, colour me impressed,” his smile seemed genuine enough, “most of us have our ‘novel’ hidden away in a drawer somewhere. Good for you for going for it.”

“There’s no need to be so condescending,” I teased him.

“Well, I learned from the best,” he glanced in the direction of Jeremy’s office. We both laughed.

In the past I’d need a strong coffee and half an hour with my emails before I could face the real work of the day. Now it didn’t seem so bad. Perhaps it was the time away, maybe knowing I had Fiona, Matt and little ‘Humphrey’ waiting for me gave me greater perspective. Either way by the time it reached lunch I had two drafts of the opening paragraph written up and about five taglines.

“Hi Kelly,” I turned to see Otty standing over me, “do you want to join us for lunch,” She gestured back to Liv and another girl she introduced as Ffion. I glanced over at Jeremy’s office. Somehow I’d thought the two of us would be having lunch together. Thinking on it I realised it would have looked funny. It wasn’t like we had lunch together that often back when I was the male Kelly.

“Sure, where are you thinking?”

Sils, short for Silvester’s, was a small, family run Italian café on the edge of Shoreditch. The original Silvester had been an Italian immigrant who had come to London in the 20s to escape Mussolini. The family who owned it now are Portuguese but it still specialised in good, simple food that was what past for affordable in London. I ordered a parmesan cheese and tomato panini, the other three went for salad or soup.

“You’re so lucky to be able to eat that,” Liv indicated my sandwich, “The closer I get to thirty, the longer it stays on my thighs.” At most she was 3 years older than I looked. Just you wait, I thought.

“Well, I’m eating for two.” I patted my belly.

“How mad is it?” Otty spoke, but all three leaned in.

“Is it really hard? You know working as well?” Ffion asked, “I don’t know if I could do it. You must have a very supportive partner.”

I decided to get it all out there. “I do. She is. But the father isn’t around anymore. He kind of left me in the shit.” As a man I’d have to put a brave face on things, pretend nothing fazed me. As a woman, I could enjoy my peer’s reaction.
“Fucking bastard!” exclaimed Liv. And that was one of the kinder comments.

I knew that I’d not need to repeat myself. I trusted Otty, Liv and Ffion to pass the news around, and they rose to the challenge beautifully. By the end of the day, the women in the office had adopted me as some sort of celebrity cause and I had been made more cups of tea than my bladder could cope with.

As the others left around 6ish I hung around. I knew Jeremy would offer me a lift home and I didn’t fancy the crowded tube or a never ending bus ride. As I waited, one eye on his office door my phone buzzed. I looked down and my heart leapt. It was from Jamie. He hadn’t tried to contact me in months. My hand trembling slightly I opened the message;

‘The film has wrapped. I’m back in London. We need to talk’

I read it through four times but still it gave me no more information.

“Miss Walters, I trust that you’re not spending your day on social media.” I jumped. Jeremy was behind me. He caught a look at my face, “I’m only kidding. I didn’t mean it…”

“It’s not you,” I sighed. “Can we go somewhere? I need to talk to someone.”

I stood outside the flat, staring at my phone. I didn’t want to call her. I wasn’t ready and, instead of looking at why, I had convinced myself that she had no right to hear from me. I knew, however, that I had to. Jeremy and I had gone for a drink (half a pint of some mini-brewer’s ale for him, club soda for me) and he had convinced me that I had to do it.

“Look mate, what she did was beyond contempt but she’s still the father of the child,” he said, with a little chuckle. “Sorry, it really isn’t funny. More fucked up.”

I laughed. “You think? Anyway…”

“She’s still the child’s parent. Whatever you think of her, she is that.”

“I don’t want to deal with her.”

“You have to. You want to go to court over this? Drag this through the mud?” I shook my head. “You two are going to be parents together. Be civil to each other. My mum and dad,” I knew they were divorced, “were at each other’s throats through my childhood. They played a game of keepy-uppy and me and my sister were the ball.” He laughed, swirling his drink around, “None of that conscious uncoupling for them. Bloody war, damn the victims. Fuck ‘er, Fuck ‘im,” I could hear the Brummie accent he worked so hard to lose coming back. He regained composure, “Look mate. Whether you two fail as a couple, don’t fail as parents. You’re going to have birthdays and weddings and graduations together. Show little Jeremy,” he grinned and I stuck my finger down my throat, “how to be good people.” It was funny. Jeremy and I had spent countless hours in countless pubs. I knew his parents were divorced only because he’d mentioned his father’s wife. Once. In fourteen years. We would never have said anything beyond that and now it felt normal.

“Thanks Jeremy,” I said. Over my shoulder, I saw a woman, about 32, the north end of Jeremy’s interest, looking over at the table, checking him out and trying to figure out who we were to each other. Just then, I said, loudly enough for her to hear, “Mum will be so surprised when you show up for dad’s retirement,” and I gave him a kiss.

“Bloody hell mate,” he whispered.

“Shut up you arse,” I said, with a smile. “There’s a woman over your shoulder who’s interested. Go over, you wanker.” He turned around and they checked each other out. “Thanks, sis. Remember don’t tell mum.”

Jeremy and the woman, Victoria chatted each other up, while I checked out my phone. I hoped that the message from Jamie had disappeared and that I didn’t have to face this. It didn’t. After fifteen minutes, I walked over and said, “I’ll go catch the Overground. You two stay.”

Jeremy said, “Nonsense. I’m not sending my little sister home alone. Victoria, dinner next week, right?” Victoria smiled as he continued, “these young girls, so sure of themselves. Why, dad would have my neck if I sent you home alone,” and he shook his head. “Come, I’ll fetch the car.” We left the bar.

Jeremy laughed, “I like this angle. The concerned older brother. Bloody chick magnet. Can that suit keep you pregnant longer than nine months?”

“Sick bastard. Using a poor young girl in the family way for your lewd and lascivious purposes.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he laughed. “Anyway, you going to call her?”

I sighed. “Yes. You're right. I owe little Boris Nigel Cameron, any other name than Jeremy, that much.”

We pulled up to the flat. “If you need anything, call me,” he said.

I sat on the porch, took out my phone and stared at it. I took a deep breath and hit the number.

“Hello?” The voice said. It was deep and unfamiliar.

“May I speak with Jam-James, please?” I had grown used to my new voice but now it rang strangely in my ears, like another woman was here.

“Who is this?” The voice said. In the background, I heard another unfamiliar voice say, ‘give me that.’

Voice 2 said, “Kelly?” I hadn't heard her new voice in months and the hurt came flooding back. I tried to remember the good times but drew a blank. It was as if we had no history before 20 February, the day I had been fired.

“Jamie?” I suddenly felt short of breath. I gripped the arm of the bench, wondering whether to hang up.

“It's so good to hear your voice,” James said. I couldn't call her ‘her,’ but ‘him’ sounded absurd. Like Alex, James was James. Neither male nor female. “How are you?”

I wasn't ready for even the most banal pleasantries. “You said we needed to speak. Why?” I was best pleased with myself that I could keep it like this.

James said, “I’m back in London. I would like to see you.”

“That's not a need, James,” I said coldly.

“I knew if I said that I wanted to see you, you wouldn't respond.”

For once in our relationship , I said out loud what I was thinking. “So you thought you'd lie to me - again. What is it you want, James?”

“I just want to see you,” James said softly. “It's been almost five months.” I could hear the old vulnerability, the kind Jamie showed every time a casting agent told her she was too old or her eyes were too far apart, coming through.

“That was your choice.” I wasn’t going to give an inch.

“You left,” James said, getting defensive.

I took a deep breath and thought of Matt and what he went through - and what he still had to face. That was important. This was not, not yet. “James, not now. “

“I understand that. We each hurt each other,” James said. This was one of her old tricks, to try and create mutual blame. By admitting that she bore partial responsibility, she made me feel like a bad person for not sharing in it. Maybe it was the male voice or maybe the months away, but I wasn't interested. I did nothing wrong.

Yet, I wasn't ready for a full on fight, not yet and not here. “You hurt me,” and before James could say anything, I said, “but this is neither the time nor the place.”

James’ voice brightened. “Does that mean you’ll see me?”

“Not until next week, at the earliest. If at all.”

“Please, Kelly.”

James and I had a long history. James had been the only person that I had ever told in depth about my mother. Well, now James, Fiona and Matt. “It’s not you,” then I paused, “well, not only you.” I wanted to hurt James a little. “I don't have the bandwidth now. Bill found her and we're seeing her Friday.”

James gasped. No explanation was needed. After all the pain, we had the shorthand that all couples develop over time. The sort that allows entire stories to be connoted by a word, a phrase, a look. “Really? Where is she?”

“Yep. Up in Cheshire. Remarried to a Land Rover dealer. Has two girls. “

“Are you OK?” James sounded concerned. “Does she know about you?”

“We’re not telling her. What’s one more person being surprised by this?”

“If you need anything…” Like money, a place to stay, dignity?

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” I said coldly. “I’d ask you not to call me before I call you. I have too much on my plate.”

“I understand,” James said. I could hear the hurt in James’ voice and first thought, ‘good. I want you to feel pain.’ Then, Humphrey began to kick and I remembered what Jeremy had said about being parents.

“Sorry James. Between this and the baby, please don’t call me until then. I will call you. But I need a clear head for this.”

“I get it. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you and, if you need anything, even while you’re there, you can call me.”

“Yeah, well, thanks,” I said. James meant it. Whether I cared was another story.

I opened the door to the flat. “Hi honey, I’m home,” I said, with all of the insincere sitcom charm I could muster.

Matt shuffled to the door. Every time I saw him, I tried not to wince. The bruises were starting to subside, but his face was still a patchwork of garish purple. He could walk unassisted, but still needed a cane to lean on to get up and down. He would put on a brave face but you could see the pain in his eyes sometimes. “Hey, O.M.,” he said, as he kissed me on the forehead. “How was the first day back?”

“Bloody tiring,” I said. “Tiring and strange.”

As I said that, Fi came in. She gave me a peck on the lips. Since the accident, we had stopped hiding, at least at home. We weren’t sexual, but we were intimate. If it bothered Matt, he never said anything. “So how was it,” she said, as I sat on the couch. She reached down and took off my trainers and rubbed my feet.

I laughed and recounted my day, from Jeremy’s obvious amusement to Liv, Otty and Ffion to Josh. She was especially amused by my work on the TK Maxx account. “So, now you’re writing taglines for clothes. To get the female perspective,” she laughed. She picked up the copy of Grazia. By this point, my face now had a beard, googly eyes and all manner of inappropriate comments coming from my mouth, my favorite being Saff’s, ‘My eyes are up here.’ “So, what shoes should she wear with this tail?”

“Hahaha, Fi. What do you expect me to do? One of the girls was complaining about how hard it is to eat now that she’s approaching,” and I took a deep breath, “thirty.”

“Heh heh,” Fi laughed. “Tell her to try postpartum. Sorry, Kells.”

“Yeah.” I wanted to say something about James, but not with Matt here. I waddled over to the table and Fi brought me a plate of the chicken piccata I had made before everything happened with Matt. Matt wandered off to his room and Fi said, “What’s up? You had a look before. What happened at work?”

“It wasn’t work. James texted. Said he needed to speak to me.”

“And? Did you speak to him?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling ashamed of myself.

“Why?” She looked annoyed.

“Promise you won’t get upset,” I said.

She smiled. “We really are a couple now, aren’t we? Did you ding up the car, dear?”

I laughed. “Seriously, promise.”

“I promise. Why now?”

“I was talking to Jeremy about it. He said, whether you fail as a couple, don’t fail as parents. I figured I owed Humphrey that much.” I thought Humphrey would soften the blow. It didn’t.

She took a sharp breath. “And?”

“And nothing. James wants to see me. I told him that I didn’t have the bandwidth what with her and all. Told him that, if I was going to see him at all, it wasn’t happening until next week.” I left out the whole mutual blame speech. There was no need to upset Fi too.

“Are you going to?”

“I really don’t know. On the one hand, I don’t want to. James hurt me...badly,” I said.

Fi came around the table and rubbed my shoulders. “Then don’t.”

“On the other hand, I feel like I should. Not just for the baby, but for me. Like, I need to know why. To see his, her, whatever’s face and say my piece.”

“I just don’t want you hurt,” she said.

“That ship has sailed, I’m afraid,” I said.

“Not that. James has a way with you. A way of taking advantage.” I knew what she meant. It was the ‘we both hurt each other’ and ‘what about me.’ Had you said it to me six months ago, I would have laughed - and fallen for it. Now, I hoped I was better, but I still didn’t know.

“Thanks,” I said, looking at my plate.

She smiled. “That’s not it. My mum had it with my dad. James had it with you. I had it with John,” and she paused. She pulled over a chair and sat next to me. I pulled her into a hug. She started to cry.

“It’s OK, Fi. It’s OK. Shhhh. I know. I know.” The baby started kicking.

She sniffled a little and laughed. “Ow, Humphrey! I can feel him kick me,” she said, with a smile. She leaned over to my belly, “Sorry, Humphrey,” and she said, “he’s a sensitive one, isn’t he? Sorry about that.”

I smiled, “Don’t be. I know this wasn’t where you saw your life going. Me either.”

She kissed me. “I’m happy Kells. I love you. And whatever you want to do with James, I support you. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” I wondered if Jamie felt the same way.

“I love you too, Fi. And don’t worry. I’m a big girl now,” I said, grinning. “I will not let some man trick me. I mean, look what happened last time.” We both laughed, in an disproportionate amount to the joke. We went to the couch and watched TV. I laid in Fi’s arms, her hands resting one on my shoulder and the other on my belly.

Friday morning came. Bill and I were headed to Warburton.

Fi and Matt came the door to see me off. “Call me as soon as you’re there,” Fi said. “Let me know you’re safe.”

I smiled, “I will, dear.”

“I’m bloody serious,” she said. “And text me when you can when you see her.”

Bill laughed. “Bloody hell. Julia’s not this concerned about me.”

Fi laughed. “She is, if only so she doesn’t get stuck with the two of them alone.”

Bill said, “Fair point. How you feeling Matty?”

Matt smiled. “Eh. Getting better.”

“That’s good. Come to Brighton sometime. The boys’d love having an older cousin around. Julia’s just got nieces.” Matt smiled. I could tell he liked that Bill saw him as another man.

Fi said, “You really haven’t told her about Kells?”

Bill smirked at Kells and said, “Yeah, well, I figure she could use a surprise. Besides, I think my little sister looks positively radiant. One day it’s petticoats and pinafores, the next day it’s a maternity jumper.”

“Petticoats and pinafores were yours, Sally. I remember how you cried when dad wouldn’t let you wear them. Back in Year 6.” I turned to Fi, “Anyway, the meals are in the freezer. I left instructions on the counter.”

Bill turned to her. “I hope you tell Kelly how lucky you are. Julia went to her mum, we ate takeaway for the week.”

Fi gave me a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you, dear. Have a safe trip.”

We got in Bill’s car and pulled away. We were barely out of the driveway, when he said, “Matt looks like bloody hell, no offense.”

“He’s 1000% better than before, but yeah. They beat him bad. The doctor told us he was lucky.”

“Her fucking COUSINS did this to him? Christ. Fucking arseholes. Meanwhile, there’s some poor Syrian can’t get in because this fuckface can’t admit he likes boys. Christ. Poor fucking kid. Matt that is.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“There any news on what’s going to happen?”

“Soon. Crown Prosecutor told us that the hearings will be soon. I’m worried.”

“Why? Kid got beaten up.”

I hadn’t told him that Matt was trans. Partly because that wasn’t my place and partly because I no longer saw Matt as anything but what he wanted to be, what he was. I wanted to say something but that was Matt’s story to tell, not mine. I decided to tell not a lie, but a half-truth. “Well, the girlfriend’s family, the mum’s side, has been putting pressure on her not to testify. Protect the family and all that bollocks.”

“Ah, shit. Yeah, well, I don’t know. I mean I don’t know what I would have done in that situation. At that age. You?”

I stopped and thought. If Bill had beat my girlfriend’s brother, would I have testified against him. I thought of the Bruce Springsteen song, ‘Highway Patrolman’ - ‘man turns his back on his family well he just ain’t no good.’ Except the narrator’s brother didn’t beat someone up for being who he was. Matt hadn’t done anything except hold his girlfriend’s hand. “I don’t know. This isn’t two boys fighting. This was a fucking beating for no good reason. He could’ve died. Or been paralyzed or brain damaged. For no good fucking reason.” I took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just…”

Bill smiled. “You love that kid, don’t you?”

I smiled. “Was it that obvious?”

He kept one hand on the wheel and held the two fingers on his other slightly apart. “What’s up with you and Fiona?”

“Nothing. She gave me a place to stay. I’m grateful.”

He laughed. “You’re a shitty liar, always were. You love her.”

I blushed. “Shut up.”

“You looooove her,” he said mockingly. “Seriously, Kelly. And she loves you. Pretty fucking obvious.”

“Oh Christ.” I kept blushing. “Yeah, well…”

“You’re happy, she’s happy. Who fucking cares?”

“Thanks, Bill.”

“Yeah, well, whatever,” he blushed. “Fuck are we going to do when we get there?” We had spent our childhood so focused on her absence that we had no plans for her presence.

“I dunno. Say hello?”

“Do we kiss her? Shake her hand? Tell her to fuck off?”

“I dunno. I guess I just want to see her. I’m not expecting anything. You?”

“I guess not. I mean I never knew her. She may as well be the man in the bloody moon for all I know. Julia asked me once if I remembered anything about her. I don’t. I hate the fact that I fucking don’t, but I don’t. You?”

“I remember smells and shit like that. I remember going to the seaside once but for all I know that’s just from the picture dad had.” He kept a picture of the four of us in his drawer. Me, him, mum and Bill. Mum had her blond hair tied back with a kerchief. She was wearing a two-piece bathing suit. She was holding Bill in her arms, while my dad held my hand. I found the picture when I was ten and looking for money. I asked my father about it. He snatched it from me and said, “What the hell were you doing in my drawer,” and he smacked my hand. It was the only time I could ever remember him getting truly angry. We didn’t discuss the picture then and hadn’t discussed it since. “Anyway, that’s about it.”

We drove in silence for a while, then talked about everything else on earth.

Nine Months Month Seven

Kelly is a 36-year-old man trapped in the body suit of a 25-year-old pregnant woman.

Kelly and Bill head north to meet the mother who abandoned them. Back in London Fiona, Matt and Saff come to terms with the attack.

Month Seven

The house looked like any other - a modernish 80s style house. The front garden had a low hedge and a large oak tree. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe something with turrets and a moat? The witch’s house in Hansel and Gretel?

“Well, this is it,” Bill double checked the GPS on his phone to be sure, 6 Farmdale Crescent.

“Uh huh,” I just looked up. It all seemed so… normal.

Bill helped me out of the car and up the drive. There was a potted little bush by the front door. It was clipped so neatly at first I thought it must be plastic. Only when I brushed it with my hand was I sure it was living. Bill rang the doorbell.

“Hello,” She stood there. Her hair was still blond, probably dyed now. Her high cheekbones were still visible although her hips had got thicker. “Bill?” Half of me wanted to hug her, the other run away.

Bill didn’t seem to be able to speak, he just nodded.

“And…” She was looking at me. Damn, why had I thought this would be a good idea?

“This is Kelly,” Bill’s voice was forceful, he put his arm around my shoulders.

“Oh,” she seemed confused, then realisation dawned on her, “You better come in.”

The hallway was bland. Cream coloured walls with cheery photos of smiling family members on them. I noticed two girls grinning into the camera, I had to look away.

“Sorry,” she looked pained, “but would you mind taking your shoes off?”

I looked down dumbly before agreeing. I had to sit on the second step of the stairs while I did so. Bill helped me stand.

“Come through, I thought we’d be more comfortable in the conservatory.”

The garden outside the window looked large and tidy. It contrasted with Fiona and Matt’s back garden back in London. While the grass back home had a large brown patch where a younger Matt had worn it down playing football, the grass here looked like it had never been stepped on by human feet. The flowerbeds were neat and shaped, unlike our irregular overgrown ones. Our garden was the site of ongoing cat gang wars. This one looked like even the birds needed full club membership and a tie to visit.

“How’s your husband?” I asked just to have something to say.

“He’s away with his rugby friends. The girls have sleepovers after school.” She said quickly, answering questions we hadn’t asked.

“Do they know about us?” Bill pressed. He had anger in his voice. I put a hand on his. Despite how it might look, he was still my younger brother.

“Perry knows I have two sons from an earlier marriage. He doesn’t know you are here.” There was a long pause, “How about tea?”

“Do you have anything decaffeinated?”

She looked down at my belly, “Rooibos any good?”

We could hear her moving around in the kitchen as we sat there. It all seemed so surreal.

“How are you holding up?” I whispered. Bill looked at me, his face looked pale. He smiled weakly. I squeezed his hand.

“OK,” he said. We looked around as a tray clanked behind us.

“Can I help with that?” Bill half stood up.

She pointed at the table. “It’s OK dear. I can manage. If you could just clear a space.” Bill moved some magazines and she put the tray down. “Now biscuits. I think I have some hobnobs.”

“That’s fin…” But she had already walked away.

So we waited, and waited. Fifteen minutes, then twenty. Bill looked like he was about to fall apart.

“Perhaps she needs some help,” I patted his hand, “I’ll go take a look.”

The kitchen looked expensive, like a photo from a design magazine, but it had none of the character or style of Susan’s. I found her in the doorway smoking a cigarette. She threw it away quickly when she saw me.

“It’s a bit late hiding it from me now. I tried my first cigarette over twenty years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she rubbed the top of her nose, a gesture I did when I was stressed. “I just don’t know what to say. This is not how I imagined it,” she allowed herself a small smile. “You especially.”

“No, it’s not how I saw it happening either,” I said, as I rubbed my belly. We both laughed.

“Do you mind me asking how it happened?”

I was tricked by my wife. “It’s complicated.”

“I imagine. But it’s what you want?” She looked like she wanted to say something more.

I rubbed Humphrey again, “It is now.” Was that true? “I think we should go back in. Bill is near to wetting himself. And we stopped him doing that months ago.” Again we laughed. She seemed so small.

We talked for hours, mostly about nothing. The state of the railways, the weather. She looked the most happy when we discussed Julia and the boys. Bill happily flicked through his Facebook profile while she made all the right cooing noises. He would show her the phone but wouldn’t look at her. At one point, she looked at me and said, “You’ve got all this to come.”

Bill went upstairs to find a toilet and a serious expression came over her. “When did you know you wanted to be… I mean you weren’t happy as a...?”

I sighed and threw her a line, “I don’t think we ever make big decisions. It’s not like we wake up one morning and say; ‘this is what I want to do with my life’. It’s more that lots of little decisions add up to the big ones.”

She smiled, “I know what you mean.” Looking out of the window I watched a squirrel running across the lawn. What did it make of this neat and tidy little world? At that moment Bill re-entered the room.

“I was wondering,” she asked, “Do you… do you want to call me mum, or mother… whatever.” She rubbed her knuckles. I noticed Bill doing the same.

I was taken by surprise so Bill answered sharply, “No,” then he said, “Sorry,” although I knew he wasn’t. “How about Peggy to start and see where we go from there?” She seemed happy with that.

We continued talking for a while. We never brought up her daughters and neither did she. Finally Bill gestured that we had to go, “We need to check into our B&B by 3pm,” he explained.

Peggy looked surprised. “Oh, where is it?” She seemed relieved when we said an address on the other side of town. She said, “there’s a lovely pub right near there, if you’re interested.”

Bill had one foot out the door, when I said, “But perhaps we could take you out for dinner later?” I looked to Bill for confirmation, he didn’t disagree.

“That would be lovely,” she beamed.

On the drive to the B&B, I noticed several pubs along the way. The one she suggested was the furthest from her, yet not that near the B & B.

That night, when we picked her up, Peggy was waiting for us at the end of the drive. She was wearing an elegant green a-line dress that made me feel underdressed. I’d chosen the designer jeans Fi had bought me and a top she’d told me I looked ‘cute’ in. I was wearing a black cardigan over the top. The night air being colder up here. She smiled warmly when I got out of the car. I offered her the passenger seat but she told me not to be silly.

The restaurant was a gastro pub on the edge of the river. On the opposite bank was a small copse of trees. If It had been a little warmer, I’d have suggested eating outside. Peggy stopped us outside the door and got us to stand together, she took a quick snap on her phone. “For the girls,” she explained, “When they’re ready to know.” Or she was ready for them to know.

As we sat down Peggy looked directly at me, “So,” she said, “I want to know how this happened. I’m not judging, I just want to understand.”

I took a deep breath, and then I told her the whole story. Jamie/James. Losing my job. Staying with Fiona. I left out Matt, figuring he could wait till the next instalment. I didn’t want to have to explain who he was and have her say something. I would have flipped out.

Peggy seemed especially worked up about James. A part of me liked it. Her being on my side that is.

“Why would she do that to you?” she said. I couldn’t quite place the tone. It was somewhere between accusatory and understanding. “Sorry,” she said, patting my hand. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You were put in a hard situation. Believe me, I understand that,” which made me feel more awkward, and defensive of dad. But it didn’t last as she pushed me for details of my current domestic life.

Bill joined in, teasing me about Fi while Peggy smiled indulgently. For the first time it felt like we could be a family. Not a close one, but that might come.

She was interested in Bill’s work. Even Bill wasn’t that interested in his job. When I mentioned my book she smiled zen-like and told me that I’d always had ‘a creative auror’. Just like her.

We were on dessert when I finally asked the question, “Our turn. What happened? After you left I mean. Where did you go?”

Peggy put her spoon down, “That’s a big question. First there was Ron. He’s who I left your father for.”

“You mean us as well,” Bill’s voice was calm but his words pointed.

“It wasn’t like that.” She couldn’t look at us. “Ron was an actor, with regional reps. We toured a lot. I was always going to send for you. I mean I knew you’d be safe with Ed. He was good man. I was sorry to hear about him passing.” I wondered where she’d heard it from. Bill’s emails?

“So why didn’t you send for us?” I put my spoon in my mouth. There was nothing on it.

“Things went bad. First Ron couldn’t get work. Then he started drinking. After a while he left and I was on my own.” Her voice went quiet, “There were a few bad years…”

I reached out and touched her hand. She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, “I knew you’d understand,” she squeezed back. I didn’t know how to take that.

“Things got better after that. I was doing a little modelling work,” Bill raised his eyebrows looking at me, I glared at him to keep quiet, “Nothing serious, just in car sales rooms, Cheshire Life, things like that. That’s where I met my Perry. He helped me out of debt and one thing led to another.” She stopped for a while, composing herself, “But I never stopped thinking about the two of you.”

“She never did anything about it though,” Bill said as we drove back to the B&B. No, I thought.

We got back to the room and said nothing. We turned on Sky Sports. I watched the men run past but, if you had asked me, I couldn’t have told you who was playing or what sport. It was a welcome distraction from what neither of us wanted to discuss.

Bill got up. “I should call Julia,” he said half-heartedly. “I told her I’d call and tell her how it went. How’d it go?” he said with a mirthless chuckle, as he left the room.

I called Fi. She picked up on the second ring. “How was it?”

I sighed. “Weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I dunno. There’s the obvious weird,” I said, laughing and patting Humphrey, as if she could see. “But, it’s more than that. I mean we’re all nervous but not just that. It feels like, if I went there now, she’d be gone again.”

“That’s to be expected, I think. I mean there’s precedent.”

“No, that’s not it,” and I explained her whole history. Fi just kept saying, “hm,” and “huh,” through it. “Huh, what?” I said, after the fourth one.

Fi said, “Huh nothing. Sorry. How’s Humphrey?”

“He’s fine. Ow, he kicked. I’m not letting you off the hook. Huh what?”

“Just huh. She sounds lost. So, she was a model too,” she teased.

“Shut up,” I said, laughing.

“Did she lure men to her net?”

“Ha ha,” I said. “I’m in a very fragile place emotionally you know,” I joked. I wasn’t joking.

“How’s Bill doing?”

I sighed. “Not well. He’s not saying anything but I know him. He’s angry. I don’t think he thought what this would be. He’s on with Julia now.”

“What’s next?”

“I dunno. We’ll see. I mean she’s not going to be nana, coming round on birthdays and all that. I mean maybe she’ll be Aunt Peggy, if that. I mean you can’t expect us to just let her back in after all these years. Bring the family around. We can have one big Christmas dinner. Me, you, Matt, Bill, Julia, the boys, Peggy and whoever the hell she brings around with her. Shame Dad’s not here for this. See if this poor bastard Perry is still here. Maybe, he’ll bring my sisters.” I spat out the word and then paused. These poor girls were no more complicit than Bill and I were. Then I realised that I couldn’t remember their names or if Peggy had even said them. Or if we had even asked. I started to cry. “Sorry, Fi.”

“Kells, I’m sorry. It’s OK. I wish I was there with you.”

“Me too,” I sniffled.

“Imagine me holding you,” she said. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.” I could feel her arms around me and felt better. Stupid hormones.

“It’s going to be OK,” she said. “I love you, Kells.”

“I love you, Fi,” I said, as Bill walked in the room. He waved. “Bill says hi. Fi says hi back. Anyway, I love you,” I said, hanging up while Bill made kissy faces.

“Bloody girl,” he said, with the first grin I had seen since we left London.

“Sod off. How’s Julia?”

“Fine. Said the boys are bouncing off the walls. Asked when we’d be back. Said she was putting the boys up on eBay,” he laughed.

“How’re you doing?”

“Eh,” he said, in a way that told me he was done. “You?”

“Eh.”

He looked at my eyes and I at his. They were both red-rimmed. We both started to say something and stopped. Just then, my phone buzzed. I had a message - from James.

‘How’d it go? Are you OK?’

I wasn’t ready to answer her. ‘It went as to be expected.’ The lie was easier than the truth.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Not right now.’

‘OK. I love you.’ Really, I thought? Really? You love me? Which is why I’m a pregnant girl. Who you tricked into getting pregnant. Then didn’t tell and almost killed the baby. Then left destitute. Like a bloody fucking soap opera. And you love me?

I must’ve looked crazy because Bill sat down and put his arm around me. “You OK, Kelly?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you look,” and then he looked at my phone. “Bloody Jamie?” he laughed. “Day wasn’t full enough for you yet?”

“Er, uh…”

“Jesus, Kelly. It’s one thing to cheat on your wife with your girlfriend. But you can’t cheat on your girlfriend with your wife.”

I started laughing. “What the hell does that even mean?”

We were both laughing uncontrollably. Eventually, he said, “I have no fucking idea. I have no idea who’s who anymore. Bloody man becomes a woman, his wife becomes a man. The he-she moves in with a she and then the she-he shows back up. Oh, and look! Here’s the mum who disappeared. I feel so bloody left out. It’s just me with the same bits and the same wife I started with,” he laughed.

“Fuck off. You’d make an ugly girl.”

“Yeah, look at you. Technology’s amazing. Fuck putting a man on the moon.”

We both kept laughing until we went to sleep.

The drive home the next day was a quiet one. I had downloaded several radio shows from i-player and we listened to them. We were both lost in our own thoughts. I kept playing the conversation over and over in my head. “I knew you’d understand,” and “I know what you mean.” I was glad she did. I know I didn’t.

---

I walked into the cafe, a once former pub on Columbia Lane in Shoreditch now made into a tapas bar.

When I called James to set up this meeting, they had suggested that we meet at the apartment where they were now staying. I had settled on “they” as my pronoun of choice, for now. Fi and I had discussed it and I had no interest in meeting them anywhere non-public. I didn’t tell Fi, for fear of upsetting her, but a part of me didn’t trust them not to imprison me against my will. On the one hand, that was ridiculous, the stuff of bad television. On the other hand, they had left me destitute when I displeased them and I was now seven months pregnant. I could barely get myself out of the door when no one was blocking me.

I saw James sitting there, nursing a glass of red wine and looking around. They were wearing a dark suit and a blue shirt of mine that they had always said, “made me look sexy.” I looked at my ever-growing belly and had to stifle a laugh. I took a deep breath and waddled over, trying to maintain my calm. Humphrey had been kicking up a storm on the bus and I didn’t want to upset him.

“Hello James,” I said, with as little affect as possible.

They leapt up. “Kelly,” they said, trying to kiss me on the lips. I turned my head, so they only brushed my cheek. They looked hurt but regained composure, “you look beautiful.” I had purposely worn jeans and a blouse, to look as neutral as possible. Well, as neutral as a woman with a belly large enough to have its own MP could.

I laughed, “I look like a beached whale.” I struggled to fit in the chair.

James said, “You’d be much more comfortable in the apartment. I have an Eames chair, you know the leather one you always wanted.”

“I told you. Neutral ground.” Before they could protest, I said, “you look well, James.” They had grown a beard and let their hair grow long. “Is that some post-wrap beard or something?”

They smiled. “Everyone else is growing one, I figured I’d try.” I had no idea who everyone else was and didn’t care. “Do you like it?”

“Sure. It looks good on you.” It did. They were the kind of man who could pull off a beard. I had Peggy’s pale complexion so beards always looked wrong on me.

“Thank you for coming,” they said. “I still don’t understand why you made me come to Shoreditch.” They were being petulant already. This would either be a very long or very short afternoon.

“I work here. I was in for a meeting. It’s a lot easier for you to get around than me. Besides, I told you. Neutral ground.”

“OK,OK,” they said, holding up a hand. “Fair enough. Siggy says hi. She says thank you for sending her the pictures and the sonograms.”

I thought for a second, remembering her lost baby. I felt bad, wondering if she thought I was somehow throwing it in her face, that I didn’t want to get pregnant and was, while she couldn’t. “Tell her she’s welcome. How are she and Egon doing?”

“They’re fine,” James said, with a smile. When they smiled, I could see the old twinkle in their eyes. It reminded me of the good times we had, of a trip to Tuscany. I remembered driving the countryside in a Fiat with a balky gearbox. I remembered waiting in a trattoria in San Gimignano, drinking wine and laughing, while a mechanic fixed the car. I had to hold back a smile. “Egon always asks after you.”

“Tell him thanks. So, how was filming?”

“Long. Boring. Lots of time just waiting around. No one teaches you that in acting school. How to sit around doing nothing for hours while they block shots and set up lights. You can only play on your phone for so long before you go crazy. Or eat everything they put out.” I thought about the photo shoot and shuddered, thinking of Felix. “Is everything OK, Kelly?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Sometimes, I get these chills. You have no idea what this,” and I patted my belly, “does to you.” I hadn’t said it to make a point, but the look on their face told me that I did.

“You’re right. I don’t.” I couldn’t tell from the look on their face whether that ignorance made her upset, grateful or both. “How are you doing? How was everything with Bill?” They seemed genuinely concerned.

“Weird. That’s the word for it. Weird.” I described how nervous Peggy was. How her house seemed like people stayed there, but didn’t lived there. How she never exactly apologised for what she did to us and excused her life. I left out how she asked about us, me and James that is. “It was tougher on Bill, I think. He has no memory of her at all.”

James made all the right noises and nodded and ‘no’ed’ at the right times, but I couldn’t tell what they were thinking. “Do you forgive her?” That was a strange question, I thought. “I mean, do you think you’ll see her again?”

“I dunno. We’ll see. I guess. Maybe. I dunno.”

“I can’t imagine not being part of your life,” they said, looking at me hopefully.

I thought about Peggy and how she kept trying to make us the same. We weren’t. I thought about what Jeremy said and, looking at James, knew that I’d want them to be a part of the child’s life, if they wanted to be. I didn’t want Humphrey to wonder what his dad was like. “I would never keep you out of our child’s life.”

They looked concerned. “What about our life?”

I thought about us, Fi and me, her arm around me while we slept. The way she took my hand when we crossed the street. The "I love you" for no reason. “James, I will be honest with you. I don’t know. You hurt me. You can’t just come back and think that we’re OK.”

“I’m sorry that you feel hurt,” they said. I hated when they did that. They would say I’m sorry about your feelings. Not what they did, just how you felt about it. “You have to know that was not my intent.”

What would you do if you wanted to hurt me, I thought, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I said, “you know what, you’re right.” They smiled. Then I followed with, “your intent doesn’t really matter. Your actions do. And your actions, however intended, hurt me. And you can’t just come back and expect that everything will be OK with us. If you’re not OK with that, let me know and I’ll let Siggy know when the baby is born.”

They looked dumbfounded then recovered. “When did you become so cold, Kelly?” I could see tears forming in their eyes.

I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, James. But you hurt me deeply.”

“We both hurt each other,” they said, playing the mutual blame game.

I started to ask what I did to hurt them, but couldn’t. When I looked at their eyes, I saw the Jamie I knew. The one who laughed at my jokes, who knew my deepest secrets, the one who I had shared my life with for ten years. “James, I need time. I don’t know what we will be but I know I need time. Can you respect that?”

They touched my hand. “I can do that for you.”

“Thank you. Let’s take it slowly.”

“Of course. You really do look beautiful. It agrees with you. How does it feel?”

"My ankles are swollen. My back hurts. My tits leak," and they laughed. I smiled, "Fucking child. I don't sleep. I feel great." They looked ashen. "Seriously, I do. It's really amazing. It is really a miracle."

They looked at me. "Wow."

I smiled. "Not what you expected, huh?". Just then, the baby kicked. You could see it through my blouse.

"What's that?". They said excitedly, putting their hand on my stomach. I was so used to it by now, that I didn't even care that they did it.

"That's Humphrey. He kicks a lot, especially when I'm agitated."

"Humphrey?"

"Long story,” I said. I wasn’t going to bring up Fi, if they didn’t. I decided to return to their favorite subject - them. “So, tell me about the movie.”

---

It had been a long day. I didn’t normally go into the office on a Thursday but there had been an important meeting scheduled with the client. After a day of talking, I was happy to sit back and listen to Jeremy discuss his date with Victoria. It had been their third one. He’d even admitted to her that I wasn’t his little sister. Must be serious.

Outside the window, the weather was changing. September had arrived and the long hot summer was over. Matt had started his final year at high school and the flat felt empty in the days now. As we drew up in front of the house, I was in for a surprise.

There was a girl sat there. She had long dirty blond hair that covered her face, wore an oversized army coat and sat next to rucksack that looked bigger than her. I couldn’t put my finger on it but there was something familiar about her.

“Who’s that?” Jeremy asked.

“I don’t know, one of the kids Matt and Saff work with I guess.” I hoped this girl wasn’t in any serious trouble. And if she was, Matt had no connection.

“Well, best of luck old girl,” I glared at Jeremy, he laughed, “Take good care of little Jeremy,” he said, patting my belly (which amused him to no end), “and let me know when Ben McCall gets back to you.”

As I came close, the girl stood up. She was tall for her age but still, by my estimate, no more than thirteen. “Hello?” I said.

“Erm,” she seemed lost for words.

“Are you here to see Matt?” My heart in my mouth.

“Are you my sister?” She stammered.

I was about to tell her no when I remembered a grinning face in a photo on a wall in Cheshire. “Issy?” I asked. She nodded. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t take it anymore. Not her and her rules,” she spat. I tried not to smile. “You know what it’s like.”

“Sadly no.” Her face fell and I felt the cold wind blowing. As the months progressed, I found myself colder in spite of all the extra weight I was carrying. “But you should come inside.”

I took a good look at her in the corridor. Her legs and arms were thin but long. She’d been through a growth spurt recently.

“How did you get here? How did you know my address?”

“I looked on mum’s phone and it was only £15 on the MegaBus.” Well, she was resourceful.

We sat at the kitchen table and talked. From reading between the lines I guessed she was being bullied at school.

“You aren’t going to tell mum, are you?”

“I have to tell her you’re here, Issy. She’ll be worried sick.” Her expression fell. “But perhaps you can stay the night at least. Then we’ll see what your mum says,” ‘yours’ not ‘ours’. “I’ll see if we can work something out.” She relaxed a little.

I went into the garden to make the necessary calls. “Hi Fi,” I said, trying to hide my concern.

I failed. “Kelly, is everything OK. Is Matt OK?” She sounded on edge.

“It’s nothing like that. Don’t worry.” I stopped. I didn’t know where to start.

“What’s up Kelly? It isn’t James is it?” She sounded more concerned.

“No. You remember me telling you about Peggy and how she has two girls.”

“Uh huh.” There was doubt in her voice.

“Well I got back from work and the eldest, Issy is on our doorstep. Apparently she’s run away.”

She sighed. “Run away? Is everything OK?”

“I get the impression she’s being bullied at school. And she doesn’t get on with Peggy. Can she stay the night? I’ll call Peggy and sort something out for tomorrow.”

There was a long pause, “Of course she can stay. She can have your old room. Let Peggy know she’s safe but don’t say anything about her returning until we’ve had a chance to talk to her and find out what’s really going on.”

I hadn’t thought of anything like that. Or perhaps I hadn’t wanted to.

“OK. Thanks for being understanding. I love you.”

“I love you too. You don’t have to thank me, this is your house too and she’s your family. I guess that makes Issy Matt’s aunt,” she said with a laugh. The image made me laugh as well.

After taking a deep breath, I called Peggy. She was shocked to hear Issy was there. She’d dropped her off at school that morning. I told her not to worry, Issy was safe and I’d speak to the girl and let her know what was happening. Peggy didn’t sound too keen on waiting but there was little she could do.

“Your mum was surprised, she thought you were around at your friend Claire’s.” Issy sat on one of the kitchen chairs, her legs pulled up against her body.

“Claire isn’t my friend. Not since she met Alice,” she said, tearing up. Ah, I thought. We were getting closer to the truth.

Through the tears, I gained a clearer picture of what had been happening. Apparently there was this boy at school, one Issy said she had a crush on. Claire and Alice had been egging her on, telling her that her feelings were reciprocated. When she’d approached him, he reacted like, well, a typical boy. She was mortified while Claire and Alice had laughed. When she told Peggy, “she couldn’t deal with it. She got nervous like I did something and just told me to stop talking to them. Ever.” She looked confused.

Matt was home first. I heard the thud of his football kit hitting the wooden floor in the hallway.

“Matt,” I called out, “Can you come in here?”

The bruises had gone now but you could still see the scars where they had broken his skin. I wondered what Issy made of him. Matt was followed into the living room by Saff.

“What’s up O.M.?”

“I want you to meet someone,” I had hoped Saff wouldn’t be here. “This is my, well, my half-sister Issy.”

“Oh,” Matt looked surprised. “I didn’t realise we were having visitors.”

“Neither did I.” He, Saff and I laughed, although Issy looked embarrassed.

“So you’ve run away? Cool,” Saff came around Matt and spoke directly to Issy. I was torn. On one hand, I was glad Issy was making friends; on the other, I didn’t want to encourage her behaviour. Before I could say anything, Saff had taken Issy’s arm and led her to the sofa. “What music are you into Issy? Matt, give me your phone so we can use Spotify,” she said, reaching for it before he had a chance to react.

Ten minutes later, Matt and I were in the kitchen while Saff and Issy were singing along to Little Mix in the living room space.

“What’s going on Kells?” I hadn’t seen Matt look so worried since the hospital.

“It seems like your girlfriend and your aunt are bonding Matty.” I couldn’t help laugh as his face went pale. I put a hand on his arm. “She’s doing it for you Matt. Remember that.”

I sent Matt out for crisps and made some dips for us all. Once he returned, we sat around and talked. Saff and Issy spoke at a million miles per hour. I was pleased by how much Issy wanted to know about our lives.

“Is it strange being,” she looked at me but couldn’t find the words, “well, I mean, I heard my mom tell Perry she had two sons and then I looked at her phone and saw the picture and I mean you’re….” and she looked at Matt and Saff for help.

“Transgender?” Best to own it I thought. Plus, the nanosuits were more than she needed to know now. “I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know what not being transgender is like.” I hadn’t thought before I spoke. Was that true? It felt like it was. It didn’t feel like I was different from how I had been, more that I had discovered something new about myself. Like discovering a secret room in the house you’d lived in since childhood.

I looked over at Saff who said, “Matt told me. Sorry. I didn’t say anything. I figured it was your story, not mine. No one else knows.” She smiled, “Besides, you’re O.M.”

“Kelly’s not the only one,” Matt smiled at me. “Transgender that is.”

“You, but you’re…” she trailed off and turned bright red, then smiled. Saff giggled, but stopped when her phone started buzzing. She looked up at Matt and anger passed across his face.

“I, I, need to take this. It’s her…” She ran off into the garden.

“She calls whenever she suspects we’re together,” muttered Matt, his eyes focused on the garden.

“Give her space,” I consoled him. Issy was watching the conversation like a spectator at a tennis match.

“Saff’s mum doesn’t.” I looked over at him and he just shrugged,

I looked at Issy, and all I could say was, “she’s very religious and doesn’t approve of Matt.”

Issy crossed her arms, “Are all mums bad?”

“Sorry, I’ve taken up more than my quota of the good ones,” Matt smiled at me. It was my turn to blush.

Saff was still out in the garden half an hour later when Fiona turned up. “I’ve brought Chinese, I hope that’s OK?”

Judging by Issy’s expression it was. “Mum never lets us have takeaway!” I wasn’t surprised.

“Perhaps keep this between us then,” I suggested. I’m not sure what was making her happier, the prospect of pork balls or keeping the secret from her mum.

“Is everything OK?” Fiona gave a meaningful nod towards the garden. Saff was sat on a plastic chair, she had my coat wrapped around her. I could tell there had been tears.

“The usual,” I replied darkly.

“Right. Shall we put this all on a tray?” She nodded to the living room space that was only separated from the kitchen by a bookcase. “We can eat off our knees and Netflix and chill?”

I spat out a mouthful of satay chicken while Matt, and even Issy, burst into laughter.

“What, what did I say? Netflix and chill is a thing right?” Fiona looked perplexed. I touched her arm and whispered in her ear. She went red, “Oh, oh dear…”

It was a further ten minutes before Saff joined us. She slumped down on the sofa next to Matt and stole a chicken dumpling. I passed her some tissues, her makeup had run.

Later, after I’d settled Issy down in my old bed, I was in the corridor heading to the living room. I stopped outside the door hearing Matt and Fiona talking.

“…. Why can’t she stay!”

“Matthew, you know why. You are both only 15.”

“You know what her mum’s like.”

“She’s staying with Ruth.”

“But she’s knows that and she sends people around. She’ll do the same tonight.”

I could hear a heavy sigh from Fiona. Through the crack in the door I could see her back hunched over, “Look, I’ll call Richard. If it’s OK with him, she can sleep with Kelly in our room and I’ll take the sofa,”

Matt started to protest but Fi stopped him, “My final offer.”

I counted to ten and then entered.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I lay there, Saff’s arm dangled over me, her gently snoring in my ear. I thought of Fiona. We had been sharing the same bed for a while now and I missed her. The weight of her body, even how she took the covers with her when she rolled over. I nudged Saff’s arm off me and she turned over grunting. It was Friday tomorrow. Perhaps Issy could stay the weekend before we drove her back?

The next morning, Peggy called. “Kelly, thank you for watching Issy. I’m very grateful. We’ll be down tonight to get her. I hope she hasn’t been a bother.”

I looked over at her, eating an omelet and watching videos on YouTube on Fi’s iPad. She seemed perfectly happy. “She’s been terrific,” I said, giving her a smile. “She and Saff were having a ball last night.”

“Saff?” she said, “Who is Saff?”

“Saffron. Matt’s girlfriend.” Then I remembered. I hadn’t told her about Matt. “Sorry, Matt is Fiona’s son. He’s 15.”

She laughed, a nervous laugh. “Three children in the flat? You and Fiona must’ve had your hands full. I don’t think I could handle that.” You couldn’t handle two. Of your own.

“They were great,” I said, “A little loud, but great. It’s not like they were toddlers or something.”

There was a silence on the line and then another laugh. “You have that to look forward to.”

I looked at Issy. She seemed relaxed and I could see why she was in no rush to get back. “Um, the traffic getting into London on Fridays and Saturdays can be a mess. It would be no bother if you wanted to come get her Sunday.” Issy gave me a huge grin and nodded.

“Um, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I could tell that she wanted to say yes, but was trying to keep up appearances. “Let me call Perry and I’ll get back to you. He’ll probably drive.”

Within fifteen minutes, she called back and said that, “Perry thinks it’s a good idea.” Sure, Perry. “Make sure she does her work, they post it on-line. We’ll see you on Sunday.” When I told Issy, she was over the moon. When I called Fi, she laughed and just said, “I could’ve told you that would happen.”

Issy did her homework all day while I reviewed Susan’s edits. As of late, she had told me how much I had grown in the time she knew me and, with a chuckle, “not just in the obvious way.” In the afternoon, we went shopping. Issy giggled every time I introduced as my sister. Matt was at football practice all afternoon so Issy helped me with dinner, my now-legendary (to me, at least) sweet potato chili.

I was dumping in a handful of cayenne pepper when Issy said, “aren’t you going to measure that?”

I laughed. “It’s chili. You go by feel.”

“Mum doesn’t. Everything is very specific,” she said, with an eye roll. “If she misses something…” Her voice trailed off.

The next morning, I woke early and took Issy to a local cafe. I had a craving for bacon. We sat by the window watching the world go by. The cafe was situated near to Epping Forest and, as such, was a beacon to hipster cyclists. Over the top of her orange juice, Issy watched them coming and going.

“So, what’s really going on, Issy?”

“I told you,” she said, looking away.

I put my hand on hers. “We’re sisters,” I said, with a smile. “You can tell me.”

She giggled a little. I couldn’t decide if it was because she had another sister or because she knew the truth, such as it was. “It’s mum. It’s Claire. It’s Alice. It’s everything. I mean I didn’t even like that boy, to be honest. Claire and Alice were over, and Mum heard them tell me how I should go over to him and how he liked me. So, then they left and she kept telling me how wonderful it was that a boy I liked me and how I should talk to him, and what to say, and how proud she was that I was becoming a young woman.”

I wasn’t surprised, to say the least. “You don’t seem proud.”

“I mean she’s not proud when I get As or when my teachers tell her how good my art is. But, a boy? That’s what matters.”

I paused, “Do you like boys?” She looked at me. I fumbled, “I don’t mean it like that. I mean like are you interested in romance and all that. With whoever you like. I don’t judge.” I do, however, sound like an arse.

She smiled and then said, “I don’t know. I mean like it used to be they were all on one side of the playground and we were on the other and now they’re not. And it’s all Claire and Alice talk about and I don’t want to, but it’s all that matters to mum. We all have to be just perfect. Hair just so, clothes just so. And I just want to do what I want to do and she won’t let me.”

I took a sip of my coffee, decaf although I could’ve really used caffeine. “Peggy,” I couldn’t call her mum, “had some bad times,” is all I could come up with.

“Whatever. I mean how can you defend her after what she did to you?”

I pushed around the last of my eggs with my fork and thought about it. “I’m not. I guess, in her head, she’s saving you from all that. Not saying she’s right, just that’s where she is.” And how she justifies everything. I started to get upset and then said, with a smile, “she’s not here today. Just you and me. I’ve got some edits to do and, when you finish your work, we’ll do something.”

We spent the rest of the breakfast and the walk home talking about the book. She was fascinated in a way that no one else in my life was about the process of writing. Not the parties or the publishing, but how I came up with ideas.

“So, how do you decide what Ingrid is going to do next? Like, do you have this outline written down - like, in this chapter, this is going to happen?” Her eyes lit up with every question, it was infectious. Matt and Fiona were interested but not to this level. That or they lived with it day to day.

“Sometimes. But sometimes when you start heading to one place, you end up someplace else completely different and you realise that was the place you were supposed to be all along.” I smiled, “You have to let it take you where it wants to go.”

----

The next morning around 10 AM, I heard a car pull up outside. From the purr of the engine, I could tell that it was expensive and new. I looked out the window and saw a man getting out of a Land Rover Evoque (we had bid the campaign a few years ago, unsuccessfully), about 45 years old, 6’2” with dark hair. He was about 15/16 stone and was wearing a pressed shirt and khaki pants. He was alone, unsurprisingly. “Issy, I think Perry’s here.”

Issy groaned. She, Saff and Matt were playing FIFA on Xbox in Matt’s room. Well, Matt was playing while Issy and Saff played on her phone.

The doorbell rang. I waddled to get it but Fiona beat me to the punch. “Hi,” Perry said, “I’m Perry Gilford, Peggy’s husband. I’m guessing you’re not Kelly,” he said, with a laugh.

Fi laughed. “Uh no thankfully. I’m Fiona Walters,” and she hunted for the words to say.

Before she could say anything, he said, “Peggy told me. Don’t worry.” I waddled up and he said, “Well, judging from the looks of you, you must be Kelly. Very nice to meet you,” he said, sticking out his hand. He had the build of a centre and the bland good looks of the car salesman he was.

I smiled, “Same. Where’s Peggy?”

He smiled and said, “Ah, this was a little more than she could handle. Besides, someone had to watch Lisa.” I felt bad asking the question. It wasn’t his fault.

Fi flashed me a smile. “Oh,” I said, “I would’ve liked to have met Lisa.”

He smiled. “And she you, but we’re trying to discourage what Issy did. I hope she wasn’t a bother.”

Fi said, “She was perfect.”

Just then, Matt, Saff and Issy came out of his room. Issy said, “Hi, Perry. This is Matt, my nephew.” Matt smiled and rolled his eyes, having heard this from everyone the past two days. “And this is his girlfriend Saffron.”

Perry turned to Fi and said, with a laugh, “This is quite the menagerie you have here, Ms. Walters. Three teenagers and this one barely a woman herself.” He smiled at his double entendre.

She laughed, “Tell me about it. Matty, introduce yourself.”

Matt was wearing a Liverpool t-shirt he had just bought. He stuck out his hand, “Hello, sir, I’m Matt Walters.”

Perry shook his hand. “Footballer?”

Matt grinned. “Yessir. I’m a striker, sometimes midfield.” Saff and Issy rolled their eyes. Guy talk.

Perry looked him up and down. “Put a little muscle on you and you’d be a hooker. Play a real sport,” he said, with a grin.

Matt, with an ease I envied, said, “But the NHS doesn’t cover lobotomies and mum says they’re too expensive.” Perry burst out laughing and said, ‘bloody wisearse.’

Issy said, sadly, “I’ll go get my rucksack.”

Perry smiled, “Why don’t you kids go do something for a little bit? I’d like to talk to Kelly for a minute.” Issy grinned and ran off with Saff. Matt looked at Perry, shrugged and walked after them.

“Smart boy you have there. Excuse me Fiona, do you mind if I borrow Kelly for a minute?” Fi looked at me, smiled and nodded. We went out to his Land Rover. I struggled to lift myself in. He came around and offered me a hand, looking me up and down. We got in. I sniffed and was overwhelmed by the smell of new leather.

He smiled. “Nothing like the smell of a new vehicle, eh? I mean, with the new addition, you could stand to replace yours,” he said, pointing at Fi’s Vauxhall Astra. “I mean this is the sort of vehicle for a growing family like yours.” I raised an eyebrow and he broke out laughing. “Have to try, y’know.” I laughed and he said, “Sorry Peggy’s not here.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” I said matter-of-factly. “I’m not upset.”

“I hear you, mate. Peggy’s a complicated woman. Beautiful but complicated. She tries. She and Issy are always banging heads.”

I debated saying something but decided that it wasn’t my place. Instead, I went with, “it’s the age.”

He smiled knowingly. “That’s it. She was happy to see you and your brother. She just has trouble dealing with, er, difficult situations. And this,” and he laughed, “no offense, is a difficult situation.”

I laughed out loud and pat my belly. “You think so, huh?”

He laughed. “That suit is bloody amazing. If I didn’t know, I’d never guess.”

“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. He was Peggy’s husband and a rugby playing car dealer on top of that. I remembered the rugby team in University. We always thought of them as posh-twats getting boozed up and making a mess for others to clean up. Every society has its version of original sin. America has race, Ireland religion, the UK has class. That’s not to say all those problems don’t occur everywhere, just that the ‘original’ is the prysm you see the others through.

He laughed. “I mean, Peggy told me how it happened. But, man to man, how did it happen? How did you end up here?” I told him the story of how I lost my job, how Jamie had ordered the suits and how there was a mix-up and he interrupted me. “No offense, mate, but that sounds like bollocks to me.”

“I’m not lying,” I said, getting defensive. Humphrey started kicking.

He put his hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re not. But, there’s something off here. I won’t claim to understand how these things work, but something’s not right, y’know. She orders a suit to be pregnant and they screw up and somehow you get pregnant. Again, I don’t understand technology, it took me weeks to show people how the built-in GPS works, but it just seems like this is something that would take time to do, to make a suit that makes you pregnant. I can’t see how you can just order it and have it a day later.” I must’ve turned pale because he suddenly said, “Look, Kelly, if you’re happy, good on you. You and Fiona seem happy. Hell, a lot of my business is couples like you,” he said, with a grin. “And you don’t know me from a hole in the ground…”

I stopped and thought about it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had always thought about it but I was so focused on getting through each day that I ignored it. Now that I thought about it, my head started spinning. I put my hand on the door handle and my head against the window. Then, I fumbled to open it, wanting air. I opened the window and gulped it in. Perry put his hand on me, “You OK, Kelly?”

“I’m, uh, fine,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

He looked at me and said, “I’m sorry. Ignore me. It wasn’t my place to say anything. Peg is always on to me think before I speak.” I looked at him. He seemed like a good guy, the sort of local car dealer who volunteered his time for local charities, who sponsored the local youth teams. He seemed fond of Issy and it had to be hard to be a father to two girls who weren’t his own. He certainly didn’t seem to harbor any ill will towards me and it had to be strange. To meet your wife’s grown son - who was now her daughter, her pregnant daughter.

I didn’t know what to say. He really was trying to help me. I went to put my hand on his arm and pulled back, not knowing how he’d take it. So I smiled, “Don’t worry about it. No offense taken and I won’t tell her.”

He laughed, “Thanks. And seriously thanks for taking in Issy.”

I said, “She’s a good kid. She’s welcome anytime. Next time, maybe all four of you can come. Make a day of it.”

He smiled and said, clearly measuring his words, “Yeah, we’ll make a day. Maybe we’ll meet at the Eye. Lisa wants to ride the Eye. Does that work?”

“Sure.” I doubted it would happen. We’d see Lisa, Issy and Perry.

He looked at me again. “She does care for you and Bill. She just has,” and then he looked out his window for a minute. “I think it’s time for Issy and me head back.”

We went in and got Issy. She dragged her rucksack out and threw it in the back. She gave me a big hug and told me she loved me. She thanked Fiona and Matt and gave Saff a hug. Saff took her number and promised to send her links to some video even Matt didn’t understand. Perry thanked us, ‘for me and Peg,’ and promised we’d meet Lisa soon. As they pulled out of the drive, I thought about what he said and about what James said. I decided to put it out of my mind for now.

---

That Monday morning was cold. We hadn’t yet put the central heating on a timer and I woke with my legs and arse freezing cold. Glancing over it wasn’t hard to work out why. With her father away for work, Saff had stayed over again. She was wrapped up in the duvet, looking like a sausage roll. I glanced at the clock on my phone, 6:20am. I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep.

I tiptoed down the corridor and into the living room. Fiona was curled up on the sofa still blissfully asleep. She looked so peaceful, it made me smile. Not wanting to wake her I went into the kitchen and poured myself some dandelion lemonade. After turning on the heating and the coffee machine I sat down and opened up my laptop. There was the usual nonsense that I’d never open. Halfway down was an email from Rich. I opened it and nearly jumped up, ‘Publisher wants to meet… does early next week suit you?’

Silently I danced around the kitchen punching the air, then Humphrey started kicking and I had to sit down. I looked over at Fiona. She had fifteen more minutes left to sleep. It’d be cruel to wake her. I sipped my drink and navigated to the Guardian website. The news was the same as ever, Trump had tweeted something stupid, the French had a new president everyone apart from UKIP liked and Theresa May thinks we need a strong and stable government. I put the kettle on.

About fifteen minutes later I heard Matt shuffling into the bathroom, then the shower starting. Fiona began stirring, I placed a mug of strong black coffee on the floor next to her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, squinting at me through sleep covered eyes.

By the time I had dressed myself the house was in chaos. Matt had both Fiona and Saff waiting, noisily, outside the bathroom. Fiona was knocking on the door. I knew she had an important meeting that morning.

“What?!” Came Matt’s voice.

“People are waiting!” Fiona stated

“I’ve only just got in the shower,”

“You’ve been in there twenty minutes!” I knew Saff was exaggerating but moments later I heard the shower turning off. A few minutes after that Matt appeared out of a cloud of billowing steam. Matt had a t-shirt on and a towel wrapped around his waist. Despite his lean muscular torso you could see the shape of the breasts he normally hid. Saff giggled and turned so red I thought her head might melt. Matt looked flustered and pushed past. I wanted to say something but figured he needed space.

As I headed into the living room I heard Fiona begging Saff to be quick.

Matt and Saff left together. I got the feeling Matt was still sulking. Fiona rushed past me, kissing me on the cheek. And then it was just me. I hadn’t told Fiona about the email. For some reason I wanted to keep it to myself, at least until I knew the details.

I went to my laptop. Before I could open it I noticed a text on my phone from Issy. It was written in a mixture of emojis and text speak. Reading it was like trying to figure out a magic eye picture. After a few minutes, I worked out that I was now the favourite sister (poor Lisa) and that her trip to London had gained her some cred at school. I sent back a smiley face, two thumbs up and three xs. After that I sent an email to Rich, saying any day apart from Wednesday was doable and asking for more details. I took a deep breath and opened up Susan’s latest notes.

Around 11:45am my phone started to buzz. “Hello?” I answered.

“Hello, Kelly? Ms Cooper?”

“Saff?” She sounded younger on the phone, “Is everything OK?”

“I need help,” she was close to tears, “I tried Dad but he must be in meetings. They came to school. School says I need an adult.”

“Who came where? Why do you need an adult?” I composed myself, “What’s happening Saff?”

“My uncle and mum, they came to school to take me away. Mrs. Williams stopped them but they had to call the police.”

I looked at my laptop, thinking of everything I needed to get done before meeting a publisher, “Give us a minute. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you sooooo much!”

Mercifully, the school was only a short walk away. I moved as quickly as I could but even that wasn’t very fast. Schools looked different than I remembered them. When I’d been there, in the dog days of the Major years, all the computers were kept in one, lockable room. You spent half the year in IT learning to type on typewriters. As I walked around the school I could see classrooms, each of which had interactive whiteboards, projectors and more.

The reception looked like the reception for some small tech company. Gone were the wonky plastic chairs and noticeboards with fading pictures cut from local newspapers.

“Hi,” I said to the middle aged woman behind the desk. It was a minute or two before she looked up. She smiled but didn’t seem all that friendly. “I’m here for Saffron Mitchell?”

“And you are?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Ms Cooper,” I extended my hand to her, “Kelly Cooper,” she didn’t take it.

“You are a relative of Saffron’s?”

I shook my head, “More a friend of the family really.” While she didn’t tut, I could tell she wanted to.

What she did do was pick up her phone and call through for Mrs Williams.

“She will be with you in a minute,” the receptionist said tersely.

“Is there somewhere for me to sit?” she looked at me funny, then I realised that with the high desk she couldn’t see my belly. I took a couple of steps backwards.

“Oh, my dear! Of course, please come around here!”

The receptionist’s demeanour changed completely. She found me a chair behind the reception and by the time Mrs Williams had joined us ten minutes later I been shown pictures of her five grandchildren on Facebook.

“Hello Ms. Cooper.” Mrs Williams was surprisingly young, probably no older than me (my real age). She had short blond hair, wore a simple but smart red sheath dress with a black jacket and shoes. When she took my hand, she looked pleased to see me but stressed.

“I’m sorry to make you walk further but my office is quieter.” She pointed up to a clock, “Break starts in five minutes, best we get there beforehand.”

As I sat in her office I understood why. The sound of pupil’s footsteps above us reminded me of an avalanche. I have a great respect for teachers, I couldn’t do it.

“Has Saffron told you what happened?”

I shrugged, “Her uncle turned up? Wanted to speak to her?” Force her not to testify.

“It’s a little more than that. At about 10, this morning Saffron’s uncle and her mother turned up wanting to take her away. They claimed there had been some sort of family emergency and that she had to come with them.”

I groaned.

“Well, quite. Luckily all Saffron’s teachers are aware of the situation and what happened to Matthew. Sorry, you are Matt’s mother?”

“Well, yes. One of them.”

Mrs Williams smiled, “Not an unusual story around here. So I’ve called the police who are speaking to Saffron’s mother and uncle and of course we wouldn’t let her go with them. However we do have a problem.”

“Oh?” it seemed pretty straightforward to me.

“Legally there’s nothing we can do once school hours are over. Technically, Mrs Mitchell is still her mother and there are no injunctions against her seeing her daughter. I was hoping we could talk to her together. Perhaps if she could see her daughter,” she must have seen the furious expression on my face as she leant back, “under supervision of course, perhaps we can head off a worse situation.”

I sighed. I wished Fiona was here, she’d know what to do. I was still an amateur at all this. “OK, but I want to speak to Saff first.”

Saff was sat looking dejected in an empty classroom. A young woman, a teacher I guess was keeping her company. Had teachers got younger since I was a kid, or did it just seem that way?

“Look at me, one flight of stairs and I’m a sweaty mess.” She hardly looked up. “How are you holding up?” This time she did acknowledge my presence, if only to give me one of those looks teenagers give you when you’ve said something stupid. “Sorry to ask.” She nodded her head slightly. “Tough day?” Again she nodded. “Can I ask, do you want to see your mum?”

“I don’t know,” her voice was small, like a little girls. It was only then that I realised how much this must have taken out of her. “If I do, Matt will be angry with me. And she’ll try and force me not to testify.”

“Matt’s been angry with you?” I remembered how moody he’d been in the morning, she nodded. “Well look, he’s a teenage boy. They can’t always help it. It’s their hormones.” That earned me a begrudging laugh.

“How about we see your mother together? Perhaps we can work something out?” Saff nodded.

The young teacher tapped me on the shoulder. “Could I have a wee word?” She spoke with a Scottish accent. We went over to the corner.

“My name’s Samantha,” she looked over at Saff, “Mrs Ann to the kids. I’m Saffron’s form tutor. Call me Sam.”

“Nice to meet you Sam. I’m Kelly. How’s she holding up?”

Sam sighed, “Not brilliantly. The family have been using some of the kids to get messages to her. Saffron used to be such an outgoing girl. Now, she keeps herself to herself when she’s not around Matthew.”

“The poor girl,” I said. Until today, I had been so focused on Matt that I didn’t realize that she had been beaten too. Maybe not physically, but she was the football between her family and ours. I didn’t mean for it. I was only trying to help but, since it happened, she lost her mother too.

I don’t know what I was expecting to see when I met Ellen. A monster breathing fire and brimstone perhaps. Instead, I saw a small dark skinned woman, 5’2”. I could see where Saff got her delicate features from. She had that well worn expression of mothers trying to do what’s right for their kids. If her idea of what’s right wasn’t so warped, I’d have felt sorry for her.

She came over and offered me her hand. “I’m Ellen Mitchell.”

I didn’t want to touch her but I looked over at Saff. She looked scared and hopeful. For her, I said, “I’m Kelly Cooper. I’m Matt’s aunt.” Mrs. Williams gave me a quick look and nod of comprehension.

We walked into the staff room. I started to walk to the far side of the room, when Ellen offered me the closest chair, saying, “I remember what it’s like.” It was hard to reconcile this small, polite woman with the hateful monster that encouraged Amadou.

We sat down in the staff room, opposite each other. Saff sat in between Sam and me, while Mrs. Williams was next to Ellen. A female police officer sat a short distance away.

“OK,” Mrs Williams started, “I’m sure everyone here has Saffron’s best interests at heart. I want us to see if we can talk this through, just us girls.”

I felt uncomfortable, wondering if they could all see through me, to see who I used to be beneath the suit. I wondered if Saff, in a moment of weakness, had disclosed my secret. I looked over at her, her face impassive as she stared at the floor. I knew she wouldn’t betray me and relaxed.

We talked, mostly them. It was heartbreaking in many ways. Ellen kept reminding Saff of her childhood, how she used to play with her cousins. She said, “I don’t understand why you are letting this incident get between you.”

After the fourth mention of the incident, I yelled, “it wasn’t an incident. Your shithead nephew and his shithead friend beat Matty into hospital. He could have lost his kidney, been brain damaged. You’d have known that if you came to see him.” She didn’t acknowledge me but instead jiggled her leg and looked at the wall. Mrs. Williams and Sam looked at each other then the officer, who was taking notes the whole time. Saff shrunk into the chair, pulling her legs to her chest. “Sorry, Saff, but I just don’t understand how she can think we should just let this go.”

Ellen got upset and yelled back, “You are a child yourself.” I laughed to myself, thinking if only you knew. “You have no idea what it’s like. Come to me in fifteen years, when it’s your son, your daughter. You don’t know anything yet. This is family. You don’t understand.” I thought about what Bill had said in the car. “Saffron, please, remember mamoo,” I figured that was her grandmother or something. “What would she say if you went against the family.” My mind wandered. It seemed to do that more and more recently. I thought about James and our meeting. How they had used past memories to draw me in.

When we asked Saff, she looked at her mother and said, forcefully, “I will not go there if they are there. And I will not be alone with you and your brother.” Ellen looked hurt at that, as if Saff was denying her family by refusing to say her uncle’s name. In spite of her hate, of myself, I found myself feeling for her. I kept rubbing my belly, to soothe Humphrey. And me.

Eventually, we came to a solution. Saff would visit but only when Richard was around and her cousins and uncle away. I was shocked that they were out on bail. When Ellen left, she didn’t look me in the eye but said, “I hope the rest of your pregnancy goes easily. And you never have to face anything like this again.” I didn’t what ‘this’ meant.

After everyone left, the officer said, “Bloody Bail Act. Don’t worry, miss, we have our eye on them. Your son is safe.”

Sam took Saff to her next lesson. It was the last of the day, so they let me wait in the staff room so I could walk Saff home.

Nine Months - Month Eight

---

Kelly is a 36-year-old man trapped in the body suit of a pregnant 25-year-old woman.

A publisher shows interest (sadly not in Jess and me) and Matt feels the pressure as his trial approaches.

---

“Are you sure this is OK?” I said to Fi. I had the meeting today with the publishers and had been agonising over what to wear. After all these months, I thought I had adapted to my situation but clearly I hadn’t. This was what I had dreamt of since before Uni, but the dream never included being a woman - and eight months pregnant.

Fi smiled, fussing with my shoulders. “Kells, stop. You look perfect.” We had gone shopping over the weekend and settled on a pale green dress that we both agreed worked with my colouring. She started fussing with my hair, fluffing it with her fingers. “There,” she said, giving me a quick peck. I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. I was carrying most of my weight out front. One of the old women said that’s how she knew I was having a boy. She said that, “when you’re ‘aving a girl, you get uglier. You’re giving all your beauty to her. Boys make you look beautiful.” It was an old wives’ tale but, between the enormous belly, the insomnia and everything else, I’d take it. “Besides,” Fi said, “didn’t Rich and Hannah tell you that the publisher was excited, that this was as much them trying to impress you as you them?”

“I know, I know. I’m just nervous. I’m sorry I’ve been so crazy.”

She put her hand on my belly and gave me a kiss, “It’s perfectly understandable. You are going to be wonderful.” As she left for work, she said, “make sure you leave on your right foot. My grandmother always said leave the house on the right foot.” I never thought about how I walked out the door. Now that I was thinking about it, I almost tripped and fell flat on my face. At least, I left on the right foot though.

Rich wanted me in an hour before the scheduled meeting with the publisher so we could, “go over how much you’re going to impress them. They are going to be begging for this book when we’re done.” After all these months, his American-ness had grown on me. What I’d feared was incenserity at first he’d shown to be genuine confidence in my book. I also liked the way he and Susan made such a good double act. She the world weary cynic, him the ever enthusiastic puppy. I was grateful that Hannah had scheduled the meeting for 11:30, so that I wasn’t on the Tube during rush hour. Despite what they say about London, people would give up seats to me but it still felt scary at times. Like Humphrey and I were being closed in.

I arrived at the office at 10:15 and looked at the staircase. I thought about getting my exercise and took about two steps, before I could feel every pound on my heel-shod feet. I realised that there was no medal for taking the stairs, unless you consider being sweaty and out of breath a reward, so I took the lift.

I came into the office and Hannah greeted me with a kiss on both cheeks. “Kelly, I love that dress! You look so smart. Are you ready?”

“Erm, I think so.” I was, but was getting more nervous each passing second.

In a half-bad imitation of Rich, she said, “You can’t think. You have to know. Do you know?”

I smiled, “I’m pretty sure.”

“Repeat after me. I know.”

“I know,” I said, laughing.

“You know?” Now, she was laughing now.

Rich came up behind her with his finger to his lips. Then, he said, with a big grin and a terrible Cockney accent, one learned from Dick Van Dyke, “She knows, ‘Annah.”

Hannah turned beet red, then kept laughing. “You could have warned me. Can I bring you anything?”

I smiled, “tonic water would be lovely, thanks.” Rich took me by the hand and led me into his office. Susan was waiting there.

“So, are you ready?” Susan asked. “You look lovely. That’s a good colour, brings out your eyes. Tell Fiona good choice.”

We had been over this ten or more times, but now that it was happening, I felt my mind go blank. I took some deep breaths, thought of Humphrey - and Fi - and calmed down. “I’m ready,” I said, with a smile.

“Don’t be nervous,” Rich said. “I know the committee. They love the book. They said that it was one of the best spins they’d seen on crime fiction in a long time. They said that yours was a ‘unique female voice in crime fiction.’ I can see the jacket blurbs already. Your face on signs in the Tube.”

I paused, “Do they know about me?”

He smiled, “do they know what?” He knew what.

“That I am...that I used to be…” I stammered.

He grinned, “not pregnant? No, they don’t. And I don’t think they need to. Do you?”

“I guess I just feel like it’s being dishonest.”

Susan said, “I don’t. You know why?” Rich would ask that and then not wait for your answer. I came to realise that he wasn’t rude just hyper-verbal. I guess Susan had picked up that habit. “Because it isn’t. I didn’t know you before this but, and I mean this as a compliment…”

Rich smiled, “Did you ever notice that whenever someone says that, they don’t?”

Susan gave him a look, a look I remembered from years with Jamie. “When I see you, when I speak to you, I see a woman.” I patted my belly. Without cracking a smile, she said, “No, not because of that. It’s who you are. Your voice is female. Your personality is female. You have a female soul.” I was confused. My face must have shown it because she continued, “I’m going to tell you a secret. When Rich gives me manuscripts to review, I tell Hannah to take off the name so that I don’t have any preconceived notions about the author. I don’t want to think, ‘oh, this is a good woman’ or ‘this man is full of himself.’ I want to judge the work on its own. When I read yours, what did I say, Rich?”

He smiled, “she said, ‘I want to know the woman who wrote this. Two chapters in, she said that.”

I was dumbfounded. “I’m sorry but I’m lost. What does this mean?”

She smiled, “It means,” and she took a breath, “that I think that you are who you are and that you should no more tell them about a past identity than you would about a past hair colour or former lovers.” That would’ve been easy. There were ten, including Jamie, two of whom were drunken hook-ups at Uni with friends of Fi’s. It was reported back to me that, ‘I was very nice. Considerate.’ Which is just what my ego needed. “It’s your decision though.”

I thought about it. Now was not the time to do it, or maybe it was the only time. I looked at Rich and Susan. They thought I was a woman. Alex thought I was, even after I told them. More and more I did, and not just for the obvious reasons. I smiled, “if they ask me, I’ll say something. If not, not.”

Susan smiled. We went over the plan. I would discuss the novel and Rich would handle negotiations. That was fine. I remembered a trip to Morocco with Jamie, and bargaining in the souk. Whenever I left a shop, the owner had a giant smile. A sincere smile which led me to believe that I wouldn’t be an arms negotiator any time soon.

“Just say yes to everything they ask you. I’ll negotiate the details later,” Rich told me. “Good cop, bad cop.”

It was just Rich and me headed to the meeting. As we left, Hannah came over and gave me a hug and kiss. “Good luck, Kelly.”

“Thanks, Hannah. I can’t believe I’m here.” I couldn’t. For a second, I thought of Jamie and how I wouldn’t be here without her. And then I realised that I wouldn’t be a lot of places I’d been without her.

-----

I took the Tube home, grinning from ear to ear. I treated Humphrey to the ice cream I had been craving for a while, taking care not to drip it on me. This was becoming more and more difficult of late.

I walked in the door at 5 PM and Matt and Saff were at the table, doing maths. They were both in their school uniforms. They had been through so much, that I sometimes forgot they were really just children. It had been a rough couple of weeks for them and the football season had brought its own problems.

I had been at home working when I heard the door slam and Matt’s kit drop to the ground.

“Saff, stop. I don’t care. I just don’t fucking care,” he yelled.

“Matt, stop! Don’t take your anger out on me! I didn’t do it!” she yelled back.

I came rushing, OK waddling, out,, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Matt grumbled. “Nothing is wrong.”

Saff said, “The coach asked Matt to leave practice today. Told him he needed to calm down. Said that if needed to recover, he should.”

“I don’t need to recover. That arsehole Rob needs to stop tripping me. He’ll get a red card for that. But, I’m the one who needs to go home? Fuck them!” He stormed off to his room.

Saff went to follow and I held her back. I knew how Matt felt. I mean I didn’t know how he felt, just that sometimes you want to be alone. “What happened?”

“It was the usual. They were doing some set pieces and Rob tripped Matt. He trips everyone. He’s dirty. But, Matt got up and they got into a fight. He punched Matt in the side.” She didn’t say which side, but I knew. “And Matt got up and just started pushing him. He knocked him down and I thought he was going to kick him until they pulled him away,” and she was crying now. “The coach came over and sent him home.”

I felt awful. “Matt, he just needs to...was the coach upset? Angry?”

She wiped away her tears. “No. I mean yes, he doesn’t want boys in fights and all. But he didn’t throw him out. He just told him to take a couple of days to calm down. I mean everyone knows…”

“Has anyone said anything, y’know, about it?” It was it. It didn’t need a name.

“No, but he feels like they are. He won’t say anything, but I know he does. I just hate seeing him so angry.”

I put my hands on hers. “I know. And thank you. How are you doing?”

“Eh, I’m OK.” She and Ellen were coming to, if not peace, detente. They would meet in public places, preferably with cameras and security. Still, they were talking, which I could tell made Saff, if not happy, less anxious. Sam told me that she was returning to her old self, slowly but surely. “I just don’t like seeing Matt this way.” Poor kid. She was so busy protecting Matt that she wasn’t protecting herself.

After a few days, Matt was back on the pitch. He and Rob made up, sort of. Matt said that the manager made them shake hands and apologise. Saff imitated him, looking at the ground and grunting, “Sorry.” I had to laugh, having been on one end or the other of a lot of those ‘apologies.’

I even caught Matt in the bathroom once, looking at his nose. “So what do you think, O.M.? Does it make look rugged,” he said, with a grin. When we had gone to the plastic surgeon, he said that he thought Matt could get away without any surgeries, except maybe to reset his nose. He said, however, that “the nose makes you looks rugged, which the girls love.” Matt ate that up. Fi laughed and rolled her eyes. I was somewhere in between.

I came into the kitchen. “Hello, you two,” I said cheerfully.

Matt looked at me, “What’s up, O.M.?”

I smiled, “it’s good news, no, it’s great news. But I want to wait for your mum to come home. All I can say is don’t fill up on sweets and junk.”

Saff laughed, “wasn’t today the meeting with the publishers?”

I couldn’t lose my smile. “Yes, it was, Saff. Thanks.”

Matt smiled and mumbled, “I would’ve remembered.”

Saff patted his hand and said, as she rolled her eyes, “of course, you would’ve. That’s a great dress, Kelly. Really smart.”

“Thank you, Saff. I feel like a balloon.”

Matt came over and gave me a kiss, “you’re a beautiful balloon, O.M.”

I laughed, “Beautiful is good. Balloon is not. For future reference.”

I left them to their homework and sat down on the sofa. I was too excited to read, so I watched a video that Siggy had sent me. It was outtakes from the movie. I watched James blow the line, “Dammit, Watkins. You could have blown us sky high,” five times. When they finally said, “Dammit, Watkins. You could have blown us,” the other actor said, “well, if you bought me dinner, maybe” and the set couldn’t stop laughing. I could see them turn bright red, the way they did that time I caught them dancing in their underwear to the X-Factor. I had what I wanted, but still I missed them.

At 6 PM, Fiona came in the door. “Hey, Kells,” she said, giving me a kiss. “How did it go?”
I was pulsing with excitement. “Matt, Saff, come in. Your mum’s home.” Fi later told me I had a stupid grin on my face. When they all came in, I said, “Well, we haven’t signed all of the paperwork yet, but they’re going to publish my book!” Before they could all congratulate me, I said, “And they’re giving me a big advance.” It was £50,000, although I didn’t want to say that in front of Matt and Saff. “To celebrate, we are all going to dinner at Greens I made the reservation so get ready. Come on, quickly,” I said.

Saff came over and gave me a big hug and kiss. Matt hugged me and kissed me on the forehead.

Fi just watched me smiling. We had stopped pretending in front of them. We still hadn’t had sex of any kind. I wondered if tonight would be the night. “That is fantastic, Kells! I’ve never been prouder of you,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

She smiled. “What did I do?”

“What didn’t you do,” I said, tearing up. “You gave me a roof over my head, food to eat. You’ve come to the doctor with me, made sure I did what she said. You’ve been there for me,” and I started to cry. I could blame the hormones but I was happy - and thinking of James. I tried to banish them from my mind. They hadn’t done anything except abandon me in my hour of need, leave me flat broke - and submit the manuscript. And be my cheerleader for 10 years. I sniffled, “I’m a bloody mess, aren’t I?”

She pulled me in closer. “You’re beautiful Kells.” Then she smiled, “So how much are we talking about?” When I whispered it in her ear, she said, jokingly, “maybe we should call Perry.”

------------------------------
We stood at the doorway of the Crown Prosecution Service building. It was a newish modern building at the foot of the Southwark Bridge. No matter how times we had been here since this started, I never lost the feeling of nausea.

Matt squirmed in his shirt and tie. “I really don’t want to be here,” he said.

Fi gave his hand a squeeze. “No one does, Matt. But we need to do this.” She and I had spent all last night talking about this, wondering what Matt was in for.

I took his other hand. “We’re here for you, Matt. If you start to feel anxious or like you can’t, don’t want to speak, just say so.” I looked in his eyes and wondered if I had just made a bad situation worse. If I had put an idea in his head that hadn’t been there.

“Thanks, mum, O.M. I’ll be OK.” He took a deep breath. “This is the right thing, right?” At that moment, I would have given anything to be in his place. To take away the pain. To make like this never happened. To make him be just another kid.

We sat in the waiting area. Ms. Winston, the secretary, brought me a cup of tea unbidden. “Here you go, Ms. Cooper. How are you feeling?” I was grateful for the distraction. Fi kept playing with her hands, while Matt kept picking up and putting away his phone.

I smiled. “I’m ready.” I said, patting my belly. Edward was calm for now. We had decided to name him Edward, after my father. Bill smiled when I told him. He said that it was only right, dad played both roles too.

The Crown Prosecutor, Mr. George, came out. He was a middle aged man, about 40, with thinning brown hair and a mid-priced blue suit. I laughed to myself, at the fact that I now saw a 40 year old man as middle-aged. He offered me his hand. “Allow me, Ms. Cooper,” he said, with a smile. “How are you feeling today?” His wife was in her seventh month. This was his third child, “a girl this time,” he said with a smile the first time he told us. He had two boys, 9 and 6. The 9 year old was ready for a baby sibling, he said, “since his life was ruined 6 years ago anyway.” The 6 year old had chosen to ignore reality. Something Fi and I wished we could do.

I smiled. “I’m fine, thanks. Please. What’s going on with the case?”

He led us into his office and we sat down. He sighed, “I had hoped we wouldn’t get to this point.”

Fi jumped in, “What does that mean? I mean what’s in dispute here? These animals attacked my son and put him in hospital. What is there to do here?” I could see Matt getting agitated, reliving the attack. He was pulling at his neck, as if he could take his skin off. Fi’s leg was bouncing up and down, the way it did when she got nervous. Sometimes, it was funny, like when she was trying to remember some obscure news story at quiz night. Now, it reminded me of sitting with her after John died.

I was between them and rubbed both their legs, in an effort to calm them down. It failed. “I’m sorry, Mr. George, I think we’re all on edge. What’s going on?”

He looked at us, “As you know, the Gambian consulate decided to go to Bedford Row,” where the best criminal barristers had their offices, “and the cousin’s counsel has decided to claim that his human rights are at risk...”

I slammed my hand on the table and didn’t let him finish, “You cannot be bloody serious? HIS human rights? What right? The right to beat a boy to death for what? What the bloody hell, excuse me?”

Matt whimpered, “O.M., please...please stop.”

I took his hand, “I’m sorry, Matt, I just can’t...I just can’t believe it….”

Fi took a deep breath, “What does this mean? For the case?” Her voice was calm but I could see the mix of fear and hate in her eyes.

Mr. George sighed again, “Well, they’re fighting deportation if he’s convicted. Said returning him to Gambia would put him at risk because of his religion.” He rolled his eyes.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I yelled. Edward was kicking up a storm. I rubbed my stomach but kept going, “he beats someone near to death because a church told him to and now he claims the same church is the reason why he should get to stay here? Please tell me that the court won’t believe that shite, excuse my language.” I looked over and Matt had pulled his legs to his chest, lightly rocking back and forth.

He smiled a rueful smile. “I’ve heard worse. The problem we have is they’re now claiming that this was just some dumb kid protecting his cousin. That you provoked him.”

Matt mumbled, “I wasn’t doing anything. We were just holding hands. I didn’t say anything.” I leaned over and tried to hug him. He pulled away, moving his chair next to the wall and leaning up against it.

Mr. George came around the desk. “Matt, I know. I know you were. And I know what these men did to you.” He always called them men. He said that, ‘this is not boys being boys. This is men and I will treat them that way’, “and I know why they did it. But, you need to be strong, tough here. We’ve been through this before but we need to go through this again. Can you do that for me?” Matt nodded. “OK?”

Matt closed his eyes. “They called me a shemale dyke cunt. Said I needed a real man. Amadou told me to get the fuck away from his cousin. Said if,” and he started to wheeze a little, “a real man fucked me, I’d get my head straight. Then his friend grabbed Saff and told her he’d show her what a real man was. And I went to grab her away and they knocked me down. The last thing I remember was his friend kicking me in head and calling me a tranny whore,” and he started to cry again.

I said angrily, “If that isn’t targeting him for who he is, then I don’t know what is.” This was hitting home for me in a way I hadn’t expected. Fi sat mute, unable to process what was going on. She looked as shell shocked as she did that night in hospital.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Cooper, Ms. Walters. If I had my way, he’d be in Holloway now, but her Honour, in her finite wisdom, decided to let the poor dears out on bail. Can’t let them suffer. They’re just poor lost boys, persecuted for their faith,” he sneered.

“There’s something else you should be aware of,” I prepared myself for the worst. “Do you know who Andrew Hall is?”

Fiona spoke, “Of course, we know who he is.” Everyone in the country knew who he was. A right wing blogger and “journalist.” Pro Brexit, anti immigration. In short, a bit of a bastard.

“Well, yes.” He shook his head seeing our expressions, “I’m afraid he’s taken an interest in the case.”

“He’s supporting those boys!” My blood pressure was so high I was worried Edward would pop out in a cloud of steam.

“No, you misunderstand me Ms. Cooper. He’s taking Matt’s side. Says it’s proof immigrants are a danger to our liberal values.”

I collapsed back in my chair unable to speak. Matt looked like all the colour had drained out of him.

“This is the same man who didn’t think a gay judge should be allowed to make a ruling on Brexit?” Fiona’s voice was calm and measured, while her eyes looked like she was ready to burn everything to the ground.

“The good news is that the court will keep Matthew’s name out of the press. He still counts as a minor in these circumstances. But you will have to be prepared. People, especially people who know you, have a way of figuring these things out.”

I thought of Matt’s school, which was more than half BAME. How would they feel about Andrew Hall supporting Matt?

“Good news,” Matt muttered. Fiona took his hand and squeezed.

Matt was quiet during the drive home. He only spoke to ask if we could have the kale and goat's cheese pizzas that had become his favourite.

“Of course we can Matty,” I said with rather more force than was necessary.

---

I woke at 4am that night, needing to pee. Nothing unusual there. But as I padded down the hallway I heard a noise coming from the living room. I nearly jumped out of my skin, thinking it was burglars.

As I calmed down, I realised the sound I heard was crying. I moved as quietly as I could to the half open living room door. Peering through I saw Matt curled up on the sofa. In front of him was a scrapbook.

“Matty are you OK?”

The poor boy nearly jumped out of his skin.

“It’s OK Matt, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” I could see his wet cheeks glinting in the moonlight, “What have you got there?”

Matt didn’t say anything, although he did shuffle along to make space for me.

I picked up the scrapbook and began turning the page. He still didn’t speak, his breathing shallow.

The book was full of pictures of men, footballers mostly. Steven Gerrard featured prominently.

“I used to keep this under my bed, in an old shoe box,” Matt muttered. I stayed silent. “In the old days. Before, you know, I came ‘out’ I used to look at it. I’d wish I could be more like them.”

I smiled. I could remember having heroes as a kid. Although this was something more than heroes.

“Once Dad found it. Well you know how useless mum is at cleaning so Dad used to do it.” I held Matt’s hand as he started crying again, “I don’t know how he figured it out, but he told me it was OK if I was gay and that he would love me anyway,” Matt put his head on my shoulder. I could feel the thin material of my t-shirt becoming damp almost straight away. “Do you think it was bad that I didn’t tell him the truth? That I wanted to be like them. Do you think he would have accepted me?”

I held him close, “Matt, I think John was a wonderful man. I knew him for more years than you’ve been alive and I am absolutely, 100% sure he would have felt nothing but pride for you. And as to it being wrong not to tell him, would you say you knew the truth back then?”

He thought for some time, “On some deep level yes, but I didn’t know what to call it.”

“So how could you have said something if you didn’t even know the words?”

He nodded and we embraced. In the morning Fiona found us cuddled up on the sofa.

-------------

Three days later, all hell broke out.

I was in the kitchen, trying to decide what to cook for dinner, when Matt came home. He walked in, shoulders slumped and looking miserable. He came over and gave me a kiss on the head, “Hey, O.M.,” and then he leaned down to my belly, “Hey, Eddie.” Lately, he had started to doing that, mostly to jokingly say things like, “Hey, Eddie, stop so she can make dinner,” or “I know you want to get here, but take your time.”

I smiled, “He kicked,” I lied. “He loves the sound of your voice. What’s up? Where’s Saff?”

He sat down in a chair, slumped over, legs sticking out. “She’s at Ruth’s today.”

He clearly wanted to say something but wouldn’t do it first. Like his mother, he didn’t want to be seen as dumping his problems on you. By asking, you let both of them feel like they were being polite by responding. Whatever. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

“Andrew fucking Hall happened, excuse me,” he said, fumbling in his bag. He handed me an article from “Hall of Justice,” Andrew Hall’s website entitled, “You Can’t Beat Africans, but They Can Beat You.” Oh bloody hell, I thought. You can’t come up with a better headline, you five-times married fuckwit. Five fucking times. Apparently, I was, by virtue of not marrying him alone, at least six from the bottom when it came to the smartest woman in England. I scanned the article, ‘now I’m not necessarily a fan of the whole LGBTQXYZ movement,’ (thanks, arsehole, real fucking nice) ‘but at least I act in a civilised manner (yes, by whipping your mouth-breathers into protesting equality and screaming at their MPs like brain damaged children)’ and ‘these savages are bringing over their “values” and thinking they can just beating a poor “boy” (nice quotes, fuckface) to death because “he” (again) and “his” girlfriend want to hold hands. What’s next - allowing honour killings because it’s their ‘culture’ and who are we to judge? (OK, after what happened, this last one gave me pause, sorry)

I sighed and handed it back to him, “Where did you get this shite? Hall of Justice? Hall of Shame, if you ask me?”

“Someone taped it to my locker,” he said.

Oh god, I thought, it’s starting. “Do you know who?”

“No. It doesn’t matter. And this was the best part of my day. I went to sit at my usual table at lunch,” Matt sat with Saff and a mixed group of other kids, “and Aqib told me to fuck off. Told me I wasn’t welcome.” Aqib was a short kid whose grandparents came from Pakistan. Had one eyebrow and looked like he had to shave at lunch. He was a nice kid though, very polite. Always called me Ms. Cooper, even when I told him to call me Kelly.

“I thought you were friends,” I said. “I mean he was here last week. What happened?”

“He saw the article. He asked how I could do it…”

“Do what? What did you do?”

He started to rub his neck again. “That’s what I said. I said that I didn’t agree with it...and then he said well if I didn’t agree with it, I should say something.”

Great moments in teen logic. By not vehemently denouncing something, you agreed with it. “Did you tell him that’s not really possible?” I started to get agitated. Edward started to kick. I sat down. “Does he not understand that you were the one who got hurt, not,” and I took a deep breath, “them?”

“I thought he did.”

“What did everyone else say? What did Saff say?”

He looked down at the table, “Nothing. They didn’t say anything. They just all looked away.”

My heart ached for him. I remembered what it was like in high school. Everyone likes to think that they were the hero, the non-conformist. Sure, they were non-conformists. Just like everyone else. “What about Saff?”

“She tried to defend me, but then Cassy asked how she could defend Andrew Hall.” I never liked Cassy. I knew girls like her at Uni. They were all in favor of the poor and oppressed, so long as they stayed over there and so long as they showed sufficient gratitude.

“What the bloody hell?” I said. “So what did Saff do?”

“She got up and went to the library. She looked like she wanted to cry. I feel horrible. I made this happen,” and he started to tear up.

I held him to my chest. “YOU didn’t do anything. THEY did this to you. And you certainly didn’t ask,” and I held the article by two fingers, “for this. Screw Cassandra and Aqib. You don’t need them.” Matt looked at me in disbelief. When you’re an adult, you forget how limited in your life is in high school. These are the people you see. This is who decides your social life.

“I know. And now Alan and Stephen and all the other pricks all think I’m their friend,” he sneered. “Like I wasn’t a ‘freak’ before. Now, I’m their hero. I’m helping keep England safe for arseholes. Great.”

His phone rang. I could see on the table that it was Saff. He looked at me, took a deep breath, “Hey Saff,” and walked to his room and closed the door. I stood by the door. I couldn’t hear much beyond, “You know I didn’t want this,” and “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Your mum….”

----------------

It had been a long day at work and I just wanted to sit and have a cup of tea.

I went into the kitchen and Matt was looking through the cupboards. "Hey Matt, how was practice?"

"I don't want to talk about it! Don't we have any fucking crisps?".

I held out the bag that I had picked up on my way home. "Here. ". I was not happy with his attitude but decided to let him cool down. "What happened?"

"I said that I don't want to fucking talk about it. Do you not understand that," he snarled.

Edward started kicking. I needed to be calm. "I'm going to go to the other room. When you're ready to be civilized, I'll be here.". He didn't say anything. He just sulked.

After twenty minutes, I went into his room. He was starting at the ceiling. His football kit was in the garbage. I picked up his jersey. "Something happen?"

"Yes," he sneered. "Something happened. What happened was I was asked to leave the team. The coach said that I was a distraction. He said with everything with the trial and Andrew fucking Hall, I was a distraction, so I should leave for a while. Said I could come back next year. Fucking arsehole doesn't even realise I'm graduating," and he started to cry.

"How the hell could he say that?"

"Because it's fucking true. It doesn't fucking matter. I hate this fucking trial. I'm tired of it. I'm a fucking freak and the coach knows that."

"You are not a freak, Matt. Would Saff be with a freak? A beautiful girl like that has her choice and she chose you. "

"Well, that doesn't matter. I broke up with her."

"What? Why?"

"She doesn't need all this shit. Look at what I did to her. She needs a real guy."

"You are a real guy.". My heart was breaking for him until...

"That's fucking hilarious coming from you, Kelly."

You ungrateful little bastard. You impudent horrible little shit. "Excuse me?"

He didn't look me in the eye, but said, "you heard what I said."

I took several deep breaths and said, "If you meant to hurt me, you've succeeded admirably.". I started to tear up. I waited for his apology but, after a minute, when I realised none was forthcoming, I said, as calmly as I could, "I am leaving. When your mother comes home, tell her she can reach me on my mobile, if she wants.". I put on my coat and waited at the door for him to come out, to say something, to acknowledge our relationship, my humanity but there was nothing by silence. So I left.

I walked the green near the house and began to cry. I was hurt and I was angry. I wanted to speak to someone. I couldn't call Fi. She had enough to deal with already. I couldn't call Jeremy. This was, however close we had become, way beyond the bounds of our friendship. I wouldn't call James. I picked up the phone and called Bill.

He heard my sobs and said, "Is everything OK?"

"Can I stay with you for a while?"

"What happened?" After I related the story, he said, "You're not welcome here. Not without Fiona and Matt.”

“Are you fucking serious, Bill? You won’t let me stay there? Thanks a fucking lot.”

“I’m as serious as a bloody heart attack, Peggy. Yeah, you heard me right. You don’t get to fucking leave. Not now.”

I started to get angry, then confused. “What the fuck Bill?”

“You’re that boy’s mum. Maybe it’s not what you would have chosen and maybe it’s not where you thought you’d be, but you’re there. And mums don’t leave. Mums can’t leave.”

I looked at the ground, “He doesn’t think I’m his mum...”

Bill laughed, “Are you that fucking stupid, Kelly? Have the bloody hormones sucked out your brain - ow, fuck, sorry, Julia just hit me. That boy is in pain with everything that was going on.” With Fi and Matt’s consent, I had told him Matt’s story. I didn’t want him figuring it out from the news. When I told him, he laughed and said, ‘no fucking shit, She-lock. I knew Fi had a daughter before.’ “And what do you do, you run away. Am I going to find you in twenty years married to a car dealer?”

That hurt. “Fuck you, Bill,” I laughed.

He laughed and then got serious. “He hates you, now? Guess what? You better get fucking used to it. No ice cream for dessert? I hate you. You can’t watch the same videos for seven hours straight? I hate you. That’s part of the job description. Get over it, princess. You’re going to be a mother and you better be a mum while you’re at it.”

“I’m really angry,” I mumbled. “I can’t go back and pretend something happened.”

“I hope to god it’s the fucking hormones, because otherwise you’re too stupid to have a kid. No one said that you had to pretend nothing happened. But you better get your arse back there now, young lady,” he laughed.

“Sod off, arsehole.”

“Yeah, whatever, sis. Next call from you better be that you’re in labour.” He laughed, clearly pondering that last bit. “Bloody hell.”

“Thanks, Billy. Tell Julia to hit you again for me.”

I hung up and the phone and walked back home.

Matt was still sitting in his room, staring at the ceiling. He had his earbuds in. I yanked them out. “Fuck are you doing?”

“Listen to me, Matthew. You are angry. I am angry. But, guess what, you don’t get to treat me that way.” He started to talk and I said, “Shut up, Matthew. I will speak my piece and then, if I feel like it, I’ll listen to you. I am not some circus freak that you get to knock around. I am a person, the same as you. You wouldn’t take it if someone said what you said to me to you, and you damn well better not think that you can say those things to me. Because whatever you think of me and what you think I am, I will tell your mother and we can both agree that she will not be best pleased. Am I making myself clear, Matthew?” He stared at me dumbly. “I asked you a question. Am I clear?” He nodded. “Good,” I said. “I will be in my room, if you want to speak with me.”

I sat in bed, staring at the ceiling. I turned the television on and off five times. I didn’t want to hear the noise. After a half an hour, I heard a knock. “May I come in,” Matt said quietly. He held his hands behind him and shuffled his feet.

“What?” I said, more hurt than angry.

“Yeah, well, about before. Do you mind if I sit?” He looked like he was about to cry.

I wanted to hug him and choke him at the same time. I patted the bed. “Is there something you want?”

“I...I...I can’t take it anymore,” and he started to cry. “All I wanted to be was normal and then it happened and now there’s the trial and Andrew Hall and everyone hates me. I walk down the halls and everyone is staring.”

“No, they aren’t,” I lied. It was high school. Every little thing was magnified and this was no little thing.

“Yeah, they are. And all I had was football. That’s all I ever wanted. Was to be on the football team. To be one of the guys and now I don’t even have that. I don’t know why I ever thought I could do this,” I started to cry. “I wish I wasn’t like this. Why did I do it? They’re fucking right. I should’ve known better…” and he bawled.

I took in my arms. I knew he was in pain but I didn’t know how much. He was such a strong kid that I forgot how vulnerable he was, we all were. I rubbed his back and let him cry. I didn’t say anything beyond, “shhhh.” We sat there for I don’t know how long. I only knew that my leg had fallen asleep and that I would’ve sat there until my body fell asleep if that’s what Matt needed.

Eventually, he broke off. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” I said, wiping away my tears. He didn’t say he was sorry, but I could tell he was.

“I shouldn’t have said it.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“You didn’t choose the suit. It chose you.” I realized that I could’ve said the same to him. He kept going, “I love you, O.M. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” I said, with a smile.

“Do you still love me,” he said, sounding like a little kid.

I gave him a hug. “Matt, I will always love you. I may not always like what you do, but I will always love you. That’s my job.”

He smiled, hugged me and just said, “Thanks,” then, “can we maybe not tell mum about everything?”

---

“Fi, I promise. I will be careful. Nothing is going to happen.” I was going to meet James. I shouldn’t have. The trial and pregnancy hormones were overriding my rational thought.

“I just..I don’t know Kells. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t stop you. They still are Edward’s parent too.” She had adopted “they” as the pronoun. I think it provided her with some comfort. It made James that much less real in our lives. Then she added, “I suppose.” She looked disappointed and sad.

We’d chosen a smart little restaurant in Primrose Hill. It was near where I’d met a client that morning and close enough to our old flat in Camden. In fact it wasn’t near at all, but it was less harsh than I could have been.

My meeting finished early so I was about thirty minutes early. I had brought a book with me but, between Fi and James, I was too nervous to focus. Instead, I went to the newsagents and picked up a magazine. I started flipping through it and saw the bloody advert. This time, the much thinner me was slung over the shoulder of one of the male models, smiling at the camera. The tagline read, ‘Be the Catch of the Day’. I really needed to find out who wrote that and kick them in the balls. James walked in. They were wearing a tight jumper that showed their muscles. Had they been working out?

They came in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. They didn’t even try to kiss my lips. “Hi, Kelly,” they said. “How are you feeling?”

I pasted on a fake smile. “Huge. How are you? You look well. Have you been working out?”

They laughed. “I’m up for a new role. In a Netflix show. It’s a police procedural, and I’m supposed to be the rugged detective,” they laughed, “if you can believe that.”

I thought about Jamie, the old Jamie. She had tried to be the ingenue, then the smart best friend. Apparently, they had found their niche - as a rugged detective. I had to laugh. “Good on you, James. I hope you get it.”

“Thanks,” they said. “It means alot coming from you.”

“Yeah, well.” I looked at their face and thought about everything Jamie had been through. This had been her dream, to be a working actress.

They looked down at the menu, “Yeah, well. How are you?”

I hadn’t told them about the book. We had spoken, but I kept it from them. Fi once asked why and I couldn’t answer. Did I want to punish them? Not want them to gloat about how they were right? I didn’t know but it was going to be coming out soon. If Rich was to believed, I’d be in the window at Foyle’s and Waterstone’s, so I couldn’t hide it. “Well, I have a book coming out.”

They looked genuinely happy. “Seriously?” They got up and gave me a hug and a kiss. I missed that kind of hug and kiss from them. “That is great news! What book? What’s it about?”

“It’s the one you submitted. The one…”

“About the au pair they find in the dry lake bed? I knew that would be the one! You never believed me, but I always said it was your best! See?”

They were so enthusiastic that I almost felt bad about what I said next, but it needed to be said, “Why did you do it, James?”

“Why did I do what?” They knew what. I could see it in their eyes.

“For an actor, you’re a terrible liar, James. You know what. Ms. Kelly Rogerson.” They slumped in the chair. “And the nanosuits. When did you order them?”

"What?". They seemed surprised.

"I asked when you ordered the suits." I was surprised at how calm I was about all of this.

"You know when. It was after you blew yourself up at work.". They were acting upset. I knew they weren't just that they were acting like it.

"James," I said calmly. "You may have stripped the account bare, but I could still access the account information."

"Oh?" Their eyes betrayed the impassivity of their face. I hoped they did better on set.

"Yes. I was fired 20th February. There's a payment to NanoByte on 27th January."

Now, they were genuinely upset. "Kelly, I cannot believe you. After all these years..." And they started to tear up.

"James," I said. "Enough. If you want us to have any relationship, partners, parents, friends, bloody enough."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't want James. And I don't want Jamie the actress. I want you. I want honesty. I deserve it.". I rested my hands on my stomach. "Don't tell me what you think the answer is supposed to be or what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth. Tell me why you did it."

"I didn't want to go through another cycle. It was hopeless and painful, and I just couldn't face it again. I'm sorry, Kelly."

"I actually understand that now," I said. “Between the weight gain and the constipation and the leaking from here, there and everywhere, I get that now," I said with a laugh. They were laughing too until I said, "that doesn't explain why you ordered the surrogate suit for me."

Then they got indignant. "That is a lie! I cannot believe you would accuse me of that!"

I looked at them and pushed myself up, slowly. "Goodbye James," I said. "We can work out a custody arrangement or let the lawyers do it. My goal is to have you in this child's life. I know what it's like to have just one parent and I wouldn't do that to my child but please leave me alone. Thanks." I waddled to the door, picking up my coat as I left.

"Wait," they said. "I can explain."

I turned around. "If I think you're lying, I will leave and never speak to you again. We'll do handovers in car parks outside McDonald's and all that."

They slumped. "I'm done lying. Except for work," they said, with a smile.

I was angry. "Don't try and smile your way out of this," I said. "I'm not interested in charm now. Speak now. Why?"

"I couldn't face it again. I didn't want to. And I didn't want to try, even in the suit."

"Why didn't you say something to me?"

They started to cry. No, Jamie started to cry. The real Jamie started to cry. Not James. Not the actress playing the role. Jamie did. "I..uh... I..uh.. I don't know. I just don't," they said, slumping in their chair.

I felt bad but wasn't ready to forgive them. "Why me? Why did you do this to me?"

"Do you mind it," they asked, still sobbing. "You don't seem to."

"That’s not the point and never was. I felt violated. I still do," I said, calmly but forcefully.

"That's a little dramatic. I'm sorry for not asking you but that's dramatic."

"What do you call impregnating someone against her will?"

They briefly smiled at ‘her,’ then said, "I didn't think of it like that. I guess I just thought..."

"What," I interrupted them. "You thought what?"

"I was facing down forty. The end of my career, such as it was," they said, with a mirthless laugh. "You were miserable, I was miserable."

"So you thought you would trick me."

"No," they said. "I can't explain it. I was sitting around feeling sorry for myself. It was after that audition for the Chekhov play, remember?". I remembered. It was a shitty little reinvention of the Cherry Orchard. It was supposed to be set in some majestic pile in the Midlands, an original idea if ever there was one. The director told Jamie she was too old for Charlotta and that, to be honest, she should consider another career. I nodded and they continued, "I was feeling sorry for myself and I started looking at your old manuscripts. I was reading one and I thought, 'holy shit, Kelly gets women. He thinks like a woman."

I smiled in spite of myself, "Thanks." I thought about what Alex said. And Hannah. And Susan.

They smiled, a sincere smile. "I meant it as a compliment. And I knew about the blog. And I thought we're both so bloody miserable, we should do this. We can reinvent ourselves." She was so proud of herself.

"That's all well and good, but you didn't ask me." They started stammering. I continued, "Worse yet, you put this child at risk."

They looked shocked. "How?"

"When we were in Iceland. All the drinking. My first trimester. Do you know how important that it is for fetal development?"

They started to cry. Real tears. "Oh my God, Kelly. I’m so sorry. If there is anything wrong, I will kill myself."

"Dr. Patel says we should, fingers crossed, be Ok. Why did you do that to me? Why didn't you tell me?"

They looked down. "I don't know."

"Were you resentful?"

"What?"

"It's totally normal, by the way. All the books say to expect your husband to be jealous," I said, laughing.

"I deserve that," they said, laughing.

"The difference is, in the books, the woman knows she's pregnant. What you did is borderline abuse, you know that."

"I know. I don't blame you for hating me." Their eyes were rimmed red.

"I'm done hating you, James. I'm just focused on this child right now."

“Thanks. So am I,” they said. I knew they believed it, even if I didn’t. I excused myself to go to the bathroom. After I was done, I splashed some water on my face. In spite of myself, I found myself remembering all of the good times. Remembering not the man who screwed me over, but the woman who cared.

When I came back, a woman was talking to James. She had long blond hair that ran down the length of her back. She was wearing a peasant top (thanks, TK Maxx), jeans that looked like they were painted on and black ankle boots with a 3” heel (I was helping Otty and Liv on a TopShop campaign). She was beautiful but she had an over made-up face. She and James were laughing. I looked over at James. I could tell their defences were back up.

I walked over and said, “Hello, I’m Kelly.”

The woman turned white, “Oh, hello. I’m, uh, Alyssa” She looked at her wrist. “Oh, it’s 3:00 PM. I have to head back to the hotel for the, uh, press thing. I’ll see you at the premiere, James. Very nice meeting you, uh, Katy,” and she left abruptly.

“Who is that,” I spat. The people at the next table turned around.

“She’s no one. An actress from the film,” they said, looking at the expensive watch on their wrist. “Besides, what do you care,” they said. I could feel them returning to acting mode.

“I-I care because you’ve been telling me you want to get back together. Another lie!” I kept my voice low but the couple at the next table were staring.

“I’m not lying. Not this time,” They reached out across the table. I didn’t take their hand, “Alyssa’s just staying in London. For the film premiere.”

“So you are telling me that you two aren’t sleeping together,” For a moment, I felt uncertainty. What with the pregnancy mood swings and Matt’s situation, I couldn’t completely trust my emotions.

“No, we aren’t,” they sighed heavily. They looked older than I remembered, even with the body suit, “But we were. During the filming.” I was speechless. “You left me. You didn’t call or even email. I was a mess. I needed some comfort.”

I felt like my head was spinning. If you told me you saw steam coming out of my ears, I wouldn’t have been surprised. “I. Left. You.”

“Yes you did, carrying my child,” If looks could kill them, they and the half of the restaurant behind them would have been dead.

“You tricked me,” I stammered.

“I know what I did was wrong, but you hurt me as well.” Again with the shared blame.

A waitress, possibly with a death wish, chose that moment to come over. James ordered for the both of us while I fumed. They ordered me a fruit smoothie. They knew I hated those things.

“We’re going to play the ‘we hurt each other game,’ now, really? How did I hurt you?” I sneered.

The waitress lingered for a second, probably not knowing what to do, then left. “You. You and Fiona.” The way they spoke her name made me madder than anything else.

“What about Fi and me? She took me in after you took all of our money. I had nowhere to go. No, we had nowhere to go. Me and your baby. The one you seem to care so much about all of a sudden.” I crossed my arms. The effect was probably more comical than I intended given my swollen belly. “Anyway, we haven’t slept together. Unlike you and Alyssa.” Pow, take that, I thought.

They looked at me. “You may not have done anything physical, but you did something. Something worse. You fell in love with her. You're in love with her." I started to say something. They put their hand up. "I don't mean the stupid way you were at Uni. I mean real, true love. Like we used to have. Like I thought we maybe we could still have. With the one person you knew would hurt me most." I just stared at the floor. She was right. She laughed a little. "Well, she got what she wants. What she always wanted."

"What does that mean?" I knew what they meant.

"You were always a girlfriend to her. You loved her but she saw you as a girlfriend. She never saw you as anything but that. And now she has that. Tell her congratulations. I hope you two are happy. I really do. I know we're through but I hope you'll be ok with that. With never having what we had." They paused and and tossed a £50 note on the table. “I made mistakes. I fucked up. But, I was never unfaithful. Let me know when the baby is born, I guess,” they said, just as the waitress returned with our drinks. James pushed past her and out of the door.

The waitress looked at me, I didn’t know what to say. “I-I need the loo. Excuse me,” I got up desperately fighting back the tears. I couldn’t look at anyone. I knew they were all judging me.

Somehow I found my way into a cubicle and sat on a seat. My head was in my hands and tears were flowing freely. I looked up suddenly when I heard a gentle knocking on the cubicle door.

“Hello, Ms. Are you alright in there?” It was the waitress.

“I-I’m fine,” I just about got the words out in the midst of blubbering. I clearly wasn’t fine.

“You shouldn’t let him upset you. My ex was just the same, nothing was ever his fault.”

I stopped crying. I wasn’t sure what was happening. I walked out.

“My name’s Zoe by the way.”

“Hi,” I said meekly. “Kelly.” Please don’t tell anyone what a mess I am.

“So he left you pregnant then?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What a bastard. We ‘wronged’ women need to stick together.”

I laughed. The way she accepted me as a woman me feel a little better. I thought of Fiona, how stupid I’d been to even come here.

The waitress smiled at me, she held up the £50 note, “Here, take this. The least he can do is pay for a taxi home.”

Again I laughed, but I pushed her hand away, “You keep it. They can pay for your tip,” she started to say something, “Honestly, I have plenty of money. I don’t need them for that.” And I didn’t. Not really. I’d been holding on to some idea of what we had, but was it worth it?

“Do you want to come sit down for a bit. I’ll get Silvio to make you one of his specials?”

“No. Thank you. You’ve been really kind,” I gave her a little hug, “but there’s something I need to do.”

I went outside and called a taxi. I needed to get home. To see Fiona.

The whole ride home I cried. James’ words rang in my ears. I loved Fiona, I knew that. But I couldn’t shake what they said. I had known Fi for seventeen years and spent the ride home remembering our relationship. The way we talked about our problems. The way she laughed off my passes. The way she talked to me about her boyfriends, telling me how “I knew just what I (she) should say.” I had the taxi let me off a short walk from home.

I walked in the door, my eyes rimmed red. Fi came over to hug me and I pushed her away. I went to the spare bedroom, sat on the bed and began to cry.

I heard a knock on the door. "Kells? Can I come in?". I almost said no but realized that was unfair to her. I had spent the evening lecturing Jamie on being open and honest and needed to practice what I preached.

"Sorry. Come in."

She sat on the bed. "What happened? What did they do to you?"

I took a deep breath. "What am I to you?"

"What?"

"What am I to you? What do you see me as?"

"Kells? What are you talking about? What did they say?". She was getting agitated, as well she should.

"They said something. They meant it to be cruel but it hurt because it hit close to home. They said that I was fooling myself. That I loved you but that you never saw me as a man, but more like a girlfriend. Is that true?". She stared past me, out the window. "Don't bullshit me Fi. I've had enough for one life tonight. Is it true?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled. "No but yes. You were my friend, my male friend, but no I never saw you romantically. Not before."

I felt gut punched. I had always known that but to hear it verbalized hurt. "Thanks for that, I guess," I said. "I'll get my things from the bedroom."

"Please don't, Kells. I love you!"

"Stop it, Fi! Please!". The agitation made Edward kick. "Whoa," I said. "I have to sit. He's kicking up a storm."

She put her hand on my belly, leaned over and said, "Shhhh, Edward. That's it.". The baby started to calm down. She looked me in the eyes and said, "I love you Kells. Maybe I didn’t that way before and certainly not in the way that I would have ever expected, but I love you and Matt loves you. And I thought you loved us."

I wiped away a tear. "I do."

"Then what does it matter what happened before? I wait for every doctor’s appointment, every sonogram. I love that baby like he's inside me. When you were away, I couldn't sleep because I've grown used to you next to me blowing gas in my face..." We both laughed and she continued, "you've been the best thing that's happened to Matt, to me since John. I love you Kells and I don't want to lose you. I don't want to be Aunt Fi, who comes around on holidays. I want to see the baby take his first steps, hear his first words. I want you, I need you here everyday."

I was now bawling. "I want to be here everyday but..."

"But what? You want a word? We're a family, Kelly. You, me, Matt, that baby, we're a family. "

I paused. "But..."

"But what? But passion? But heat? Whatever you and them had? News flash Kells - that boy in that room, in there, is a fire extinguisher" and then she put her hand on my belly, "and that one in there that's a bloody fire hose," she laughed. “If you think you’re having sex on the beach at Ibiza any time soon, you’re not. And you won’t want to. You’ll watch Edward splash in a wading pool in the garden and it will be the best time you’ve ever, we’ve ever had. We’ll be going to Legoland and Warwick Castle. I love you Kelly. And I can tell you that I don't want anyone else in my bed but you. If that's not love..." and she kissed me.

"I love you Fi."

"I love you too, Kells,” she said, holding me in her arms and stroking my hair. What happened?"

I smiled. "It doesn't matter.". It didn't.

---

That night we had sex. I’d love to able to say it was amazing, mind-blowing sex. That trains went into tunnels, rockets launched and it all ended with fireworks in the sky. For the most part, it was awkward. There were lots of ‘does this work…’ and ‘am I doing it right…” But, when it was over, we lay there holding each other and I knew we would make it. It wasn’t how I’d imagined it back at Uni. But it was real, and that was better.

I woke up the way we did most mornings. I was the little spoon. I could feel her breath on my neck as I watched the grey light coming through the window, but it felt different, better today. I watched Fiona’s phone willing the alarm to never come. Could I persuade her to bunk off work for the day?

But eventually it did come. I hated that harp jingle. Fiona reached across me and hit snooze. I turned my head slightly, not wanting to leave this position.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” she murmured sleepily, nuzzling into the back of my neck.

“Why don’t we go away somewhere? Just you, me and Matt?”

She linked her leg around mine, “It’s Thursday.”

“I know that, but tomorrow after work. For the weekend.” I felt her pulling away as the second alarm went off. She climbed over me, grabbing her phone.

“I need a shower,” she grumbled. She had never been much of a morning person.

By the time Fi was out of the shower, I was waiting for her in the living room. Armed with coffee.

“Thanks,” she muttered, “Maybe we could go someplace. I guess it could be one of the last weekends before Eddie gets here.” She glanced towards the hall, “And it’ll take Matt’s mind off the trial next week.”

“Great,” I beamed, “because I’ve been looking.” I turned around my laptop. There were a number of windows open all with holiday cottages and B&Bs. “Hey Matt,” Matt had staggered into the living room, “You fancy going somewhere this weekend?”

“Huh, like where?” He took after his mother when it came to mornings.

“Just somewhere in the country. We can go for walks,” he grunted, “Maybe stop off in a country pub or two.” He perked up at the mention of pubs.

“Can I have scrambled egg with chorizo, O.M.?”

“That’s a yes,” I said triumphantly, “You take after your mum when it comes to negotiation.” Matt smiled at me before staggering off to the shower.

Fiona reappeared fully dressed. She looked good in her business suit. Again, I wished she could bunk off for the day. She handed me something, “Here, take my credit card. Book us somewhere, you choose.” She turned to leave but thought better of it, “Just not too far away. I don’t want to spend the weekend driving.” She paused, “And by the sea. I fancy the sea.”

“Yes ma’am,” I joke saluted

“Ma’am,” She smiled wryly, “you can drop that, but keep the salute.” She kissed me on the lips then left.

In the past I would have protested about taking her card. After all, I had that £50,000 coming my way. But now it felt right. We were a couple, a team. There would be plenty of chances for me to repay her.

---

I’d spent most of Friday packing. I knew Fi would tell me off for over packing but I wanted to make sure we were prepared for every eventuality. Sun, rain, wind, flood and famine. Matt got home first and tossed his iPad on the top of the bag I’d packed for him. I’d hoped he’d leave it behind. Ever since leaving the football team and breaking up with Saff, he spent most of his time moping around the house staring at that thing. What he was looking at I didn’t know, but I did double check the parental controls.

The traffic was bad coming out of London but we had expected that. Then it rained most of the rest of the way. It rained so much I wondered if we’d made the right decision. I sat there watching the the street lights going by, glowing through the rain. While Fi’s face focused on the road, I looked back at Matt, his face lit blue-white by his iPad.

With the traffic and weather, it was nearly midnight by the time we reached our rented cottage, on the edge of the New Forest. According to the internet it was by the sea. It seemed like the sea had come to meet us, from above. Fiona sent me inside to make tea while they brought the bags in. One of the fringe benefits of being a pregnant woman, I thought as I watched Matt running to and from the car boot.

Finally we were in. There was a large fire that the owners had stocked it with a couple of logs. I got to sit on the sofa watching Fiona and Matt squabbling over the best way to get it lit. In the end, I went and found a lighter and some old newspaper in the utility room.

We ate cheese on toast and drank wine in front of the fire. We’d tried to keep an eye out for a supermarket on our way, but in the rain the best we could find was a little Tescos Metro connected to a petrol station.

Afterwards, Fiona and I snuggled on the sofa watching the flames slowly rising, claiming the wood, while Matt lounged in the chair searching on his phone. I wondered if he was looking up Saff and his friends on social media. I made a mental note to check in with him some time soon.

We sat there silently enjoying not having anything to do. After about half an hour, Matt got up and announced he was going to bed. He kept his phone in his hand glancing at it as he spoke. We were left alone. I lay there, my head in her lap as she stroked my hair. The only noise was the crackle of the fire and the occasional sound of Matt moving above us.

The fire had nearly burnt down when Fiona announced it was nearly 2am, “We should go to bed,” She touched my cheek gently.

“Ummm,” I turned over so I was looking up at her, “I think we should,” I said, in what I hoped was a seductive manner.

In the middle of the night, I felt Fi shake me. “Kells, Kells.” I felt her wipe the sweat from my face. “You were crying. Did you have the nightmare again?”

“Yes,” I said, shaking and leaning into her arms.

“It’s going to be OK.” Lately, I had been having a nightmare where, while giving birth, they peeled back the skin of the nanosuit revealing my old male self underneath. “Dr. Patel told you that everything is going to be OK.” At the last appointment, we told her about the nanosuit. To her credit, she said nothing beyond, ‘I would never have guessed,’ and ‘well, then, give me the company’s information so we can see what we have to do.’ I can only imagine what she said in the staff meeting though. “She said it’s a normal C-section and you will be fine.”

I cried a little. “What if they’re wrong? She said I wouldn’t need to take the suit off, didn’t she,” I spoke the words carefully, like I was discussing a clause in a contract.

She pulled me closer and stroked my hair. “You will be fine. It will be fine. Dr. Patel said you were her best patient and not to worry.”

“Promise?” I hated being so scared, but happy that Fi was here to comfort me.

“Yes, I promise, Kells.”

The next day, the rain eased but didn’t stop. After a breakfast of cereal, Fiona and I decided to attempt a short walk. It was all I could manage these days. Still, despite the cold and the damp the fresh air smelt amazing after the city. Sadly, Matt took one look outside and decided not to join us.

“Don’t you want some fresh air? It’d be good for your training,” I was cautious not to mention football explicitly, knowing how sensitive he still was.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “it’s just trees and stuff, seen one, you’ve seen them all.” A Londoner born and bred.

Fiona and I walked in silence for the first ten minutes. I enjoyed the sensation of her hand squeezing mine. Mine now being the smaller. My head was filled with so much. What had come before between us, what was to come. It frightened me thinking of how much I now had to lose.

“How is it?”

“Huh?” Fi’s mind had been elsewhere.

“The… birth.”

She laughed, having answered this many times before. “Well magical and painful,” she squeezed my hand, “But mostly painful.” She must have seen my expression because she added, “But you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I hate that I’m going to miss it,” I said.

She laughed, loudly enough that the two other fools walking nearby turned. “You want to know what it’s really like? I read this somewhere. Take your lower lip and pull it...over your head. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything, but I wouldn’t want to go through it again either.”

“Sorry I woke you again last night.”

She smiled, “That’s OK.” Then she took her voice down to a whisper, “you more than made up for it this morning.” I looked around, half expecting to find a family of shocked German tourists covering the ears of their children.

“I just,” I took a deep breath, “I just don’t want to go back. Ever.” I had never said it out loud. I’d hardly even let myself think it. The air felt cold and still as I waited for her to speak.

Fiona stopped and took me in her arms, “You don’t ever have to, baby.”

I played with a button on her coat, “Promise?”

“Yes,” she said, half exasperated, half affectionately. “Now let’s get back, before Matt can do too much damage.”

Her suspicion turned out to be well founded. Although perhaps not in the way she had expected.

The kitchen was a disaster area. It put me in mind of a WWI front line medical centre, during the Somme.

“What the hell?” I looked at Matt, his innocent face dripping with sweat. On the hobs were two pans. One was half full of water bubbling away. The whole contents of a packet of spaghetti sticking out. The half in the water had gone soft, the half out hadn’t, their ends somehow burnt. The inside of the larger pan was coated with something burnt black that had once possibly been red.

“Spag Boll?” I guessed.

“Sorry O.M. I wanted to do something special for you both,” He ruffled his hair in that way that used to transfix Saff.

Fiona hugged him, “It’s a lovely thought Matty, but I think from now on we should leave the cooking to Kells.” They both smiled at me. Bastards, wonderful bastards.

I tried to rescue what he made, thinking maybe I could fry up the spaghetti and meat. My dad always said frying makes anything palatable, except this. Half an hour later, we were all squeezed on the sofa in front of the fire, eating Tomato and Cheddar soup (using the last of both).

Matt looked at his soup, embarrassed. Fi smiled, “It’s the thought that counts Matty, but why would you try Spag Boll?”

He blushed. “I mean I’ve watched O.M.,” not well enough, I thought, smiling, “And I know I haven’t been easy to live with lately,”

“Not at all love,” I said. They both laughed at me. “Well, yes. But much less than you could have been. You’ve handled everything. The trial. The break up, the…”

“You can say football,”

“… the football. You’ve handled it like a man. And I mean that as a compliment, truly.”

He smiled at me, then took a deep breath, “Well that’s just it. I’m ready to transition. Properly. My body, I mean, not just tying down, these,” he pointed at his chest.

I looked at Fi, wondering how she’d take it. I’d begun rehearsing arguments for taking it slowly in my head when she spoke, “I think that’s wonderful Matty.” Her smile was genuine. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. We both exchanged glances. I doubt he thought it would be this easy.

“It wouldn’t be sudden. I’ve looked it up. I can get the surgery on the NHS when I turn 16 but they ask that I attend regular counselling sessions beforehand. Look, I’ll show you.” He jumped up, nearly knocking over the remainder of his soup.

While he was out of the room I turned to Fi, “So that’s why he’s been on the iPad all the time.”

She nodded.

“You had an idea?”

She nodded again.

I smiled, “You’ve been checking his internet history?”

“Shut up.” She hit my arm. I knew I’d caught her out.

That night, as we got ready for bed, we talked.

Fi looked at the ceiling. “Thank god for the book. Between Matt’s transition and Edward, we need all the money we can get.”

I couldn’t think of a better use for the money but said, “I thought Matt can get it all free on the NHS?”

Fi smiled. “You have so much to learn, Kells. With kids, nothing ever comes free. There will always be other costs.” She leaned next to my belly. “But, they’re all worth it,” and then she kissed me.

Nine Months

--------

8 lbs. 1 oz. 20 inches long

------

Month Nine

Fiona paced backwards and forwards. I tried to join her but Eddie was making that more difficult with each passing day.

“So, tell me again what will happen if we agree to the plea bargain?” I asked Mr. George.

This was the fourth time one or other of us had asked him this question, yet his calm, courteous manner never changed. I think he knew how difficult this was for us. He said, “He’ll plead to ABH, assault occasioning actual bodily harm. The Section 146 charge (hate crime) will be dropped. He’ll accept a sentence of twenty-four months at a secure training centre…”

“Two years? He almost killed Matt and all he’ll get is two bloody years?” Fi yelled, not for the first time. I saw Matt hunch up. “At a bloody secure centre. Get job training and counseling, the poor dear, so he can figure out why he thinks it’s OK to beat someone near to death…”

“Fi,” I said, rubbing her leg, “let Mr. George finish.”

“I understand, Ms. Walters, I do. But he will be in custody, have no doubt about what that means.”

“But, he won’t be deported,” I said.

Mr. George sighed, “No. There’s no guarantee he will and there’s no guarantee he won’t. I’m sorry I can’t give a better answer than that.”

“What happens if we go to trial?” Matt asked.

Mr. George took a deep breath and looked directly at him. “He’s facing six years at a Youth Offender Centre. He could be out in three years but he will be deported.”

“So what do you think we should do? What would you do?” I looked up at Mr. George as I spoke.

Mr. George took a deep breath and said, “I can’t tell you what to do.” We all looked at him and he continued, “I mean that two ways. First, I can’t tell you because it’s against CPS policy and I will lose my job which I can’t afford right now,” and he gave me a smile. “If you’re asking me what David George, parent, would do, I can’t say either. I’ve been doing this job for fourteen years and what I’ve learned is, for families, you don’t know what you’ll do until you have to do it.”

Fi growled, “You’d want his head.”

Mr. George smiled and said, “Probably, but that’s not what this is about. I can tell you that I think this is one of the stronger sorts of these cases that I’ve had. Matthew and Saffron have consistently told the same stories, the police report and hospital records are consonant with that. This is no fight that got out of hand…”

“But,” Fiona stopped, turned and looked directly at him. Sitting next to me Matt seemed deep in thought.

“But, it’ll be a tough trial. This man has a great defence team and,” he looked directly at Matt, “they will come after you. They will try and destroy your credibility. They will use every resource at their disposal to destroy your credibility. They’ll use anything they can find to show that you provoked them. Facebook posts, tweets, statements from witnesses about anything you might have said to them about you and Saffron...”

I saw Matt blanch. “So, you think we should agree to the plea bargain?” Matt’s voice was quiet.

Mr. George leaned back in his chair, pressing the ends of his fingertips against themselves, “I didn’t say that and wouldn’t. This is your decision. It’s not mine and it’s not your mothers’. I am ready to try this, if that’s what you want.” Matt looked down, his expression was grim.

Back at the flat, we sat around the kitchen table, nursing mugs of tea (decaf for me, obviously)

“So, if he accepts the plea bargain, he has to testify against his friend, correct?” Matt said. I nodded.

Fiona said, “But he won’t get what he deserves and he likely won’t get deported, is what I heard.”

I reached across the table and took his hand, “What do you want Matt?”

“Well, for it to never have happened, for starters, O.M.,” he laughed. He took a sip of his tea, “but I think we should agree.”

Fi did not look best pleased. No, she looked angry and crossed her arms. “I don’t understand, Matthew, why you would want to let him do this.” I reached for her hand to console her and she begrudgingly accepted it.

Matt took a deep breath, “I’m tired. I’m tired of everything. I want this to be over already. It’s all well and good for you to be out for blood, mum, but I’m the one who has to deal with it.” While Andrew Hall had moved primarily onto other topics - how Brexit was the best thing for Britain since “bloody Poles won’t be taking jobs anymore” (I’d love to see his face the next time his boiler broke down) - the kids at school hadn’t let it go, he confided in me. “If this goes to trial, it’ll be all over the news and I’ll be the one to deal with it. Not you or you, me. And, for what, another three years? It doesn’t matter anyway. Two years, five years? What does it matter? I’ll be on my gap year for Uni anyway when he gets out.” Fi gave me a look and a smile. This was the first either of us had heard that he was considering FE college, much less Uni.

Fi started to speak and he held up his hand. “And all this will do is hurt Saff and her family more.”

Fi laughed, a sharp, angry laugh. “Why does that matter? Her mum caused this…”

“Stop, mum! Whatever she did or didn’t do is not the only point. Saff didn’t do anything. Mr. Mitchell didn’t do anything. And they’re getting dragged through this with me. They’re a family, the same as us. I don’t want Saff to have to testify so you can taste blood…”

I took his hand. “Matt, that’s not fair,” I said. “We’re just worried.”

“I know. Sorry, mum. I looked into it. Youth Offender Centres are horrible places. Kids get beaten and raped there.”

Fi stared at him and said, “So what Matthew?” I had never seen her this vengeful. I understood why but was getting worried for her. “Did he care when he beat you? What does it matter?”

Matt shook his head and said, “What does it matter? If he gets beaten, will it take away my scars? Will it go back and take me from hospital? Do you think he’ll hate me less at a YOC? He’ll be away long enough. Maybe he’ll get the help he needs. Maybe he’ll learn something…”

I hadn’t spoken. We were a family, but Fi was his mum. I was O.M., but she was mum. I spoke quietly, “He’s going to get out and probably stay here, in England, I mean.”

He looked at the both of us. “Mr. George didn’t say that. He just said that he won't be deported automatically. Please let's just be done with this. Please.”

“Matthew, please go to your room,” Fi said. He started to protest and she said, “You’re not in trouble. I just want to discuss this with Kelly.” He walked off, mumbling, “it’s my life.”

We heard the door close and Fi said, “What do we do here, Kells?”

I sighed. “I think we agree with the plea bargain.” She looked annoyed. “Hear me out. It’s Matt’s decision. He’s the one who’s had to live with this, who will have to live with it. He’s the one everyone talks about. Amadou will go away for two years and his friend for a lot more. Matt’s right. What does it matter, two years or five? He’ll be locked away. We can just be done with this. Let Matty get on with his life.”

“I hate that he won’t be deported,” she said. “It seems so fucking unfair that he gets to stay.”

“Who knows if he will, Fi? But, come on, let’s let Matty get his life back.”

---------------------------------------------
We met with Mr. George the next day.

“So, the defence has agreed that, upon release, he cannot live within 20km of wherever Matty is living then?” I asked. I had proposed this as a solution to him returning here.

Mr. George smiled, “That was one of the more unusual requests I’ve received but, yes, they agreed. It will constitute a violation of the terms of the plea if he does it. Apparently, he has family in Cardiff he can go to.” He smiled at Matt, “Not planning on living in Cardiff, are you?”

Matt smiled, “No, sir. Thank you, sir.”

He shook Matt’s hand. “You’re a brave young man. I wish you the best of luck.”

We waited in the hallway outside the courtroom while Amadou entered his plea. We asked whether we could see him do it - we wanted the finality - but Mr. George said that, given the delicacy of the proceedings, “her honour has said no.”

I would swear I heard the gavel fall. The door opened and Ellen and her brother walked out. They wouldn’t even look at us, but it didn’t matter. Amadou had been taken to a centre and his friend was in jail awaiting trial. It was agreed that neither Matt nor Saff would have to testify, that Amadou’s testimony would be enough. I was pushing myself up off the bench when Mr. George came over to me.

“A word, Ms. Cooper?”

I walked down the hall with him. “Thank you for everything, Mr. George.”

“You’re welcome. Now that this is over, I can tell you. As a parent, I would’ve accepted the plea.”

“Really?”

“Yes. That boy has been through enough and a trial is an inherently risky endeavour. His attacker will be away for long enough. You all deserve to move on. You will have,” and he gave me a huge smile, “more than enough to keep you busy for the foreseeable future. Best of luck.”

I smiled, “I wish the same to Mrs. George.”

He smiled and shook my hand, “Thanks, I may need it,” and he walked away.

----------------------------------------

The café was next to a park in Dalston. We used to stop here for ice cream when Bill and I were little. I could remember the cold ice cream melting down my fingers as I tried to lick it. They still had the old post box Bill kicked that time his Rocket Lolly broke in half. Now Fiona and I were sitting, looking out at the grey skies as we waited. I could see something was playing on Fiona’s mind.

“Penny for them?”

“Huh? Oh, I was just wondering if we did the right thing…”

I knew what she meant. “I think we did.”

She made an attempt to smile and looked down at her coffee, “What if he attacks someone else’s son, or daughter and we could have stopped it?”

“We’ll never know. What if he was sent down and killed in a fight with an inmate? We just don’t know. We did what was right for Matt at the time. You can’t second guess that.”

She smiled more genuinely, “I guess so.”

I took her hand, “We just have to move on.”

At that moment, the bell above the door rang and we turned around. There they were, two faces I hadn’t seen since Iceland.

“Kelly,” her voice trembled slightly.

“Siggy,” she relaxed as soon as she saw me smiling. I could feel Fiona tensing in the seat next to me. I did my best to get up and hug Siggy and Egon. Fiona waited behind me.

“This is Fiona.”

“I’ve heard lots about you,” Siggy went to kiss Fi on the cheek.

I could see Fi tense up a little. “I’m sure you have.” We all laughed nervously, realising who would have done the telling. I wondered what James would have said.

While Egon and Fiona went to the counter to order drinks, Siggy and I sat down. There were two women with prams in front of them. The prams were massive things that looked like they were made for war, or off-roading.

“Wow you look great! How are you?” Siggy gushed.

“I look like a beached whale in dungarees, but thanks,” I laughed. As hard as I tried to ignore it, the flattery worked. I’d caught an eye of my silhouette in a car window the other day. I could have been a loveable Mr. Men character, Little Miss Spherical.

“Is everything OK with the pregnancy and everything?”

I looked at her open face. The bright, almost glowing skin that made her look younger than her age. Those blue eyes as clear as a glacial ice pool. I remembered her own tragedy. After all that, and after I had everything I wanted, I still had mixed feelings towards her. On the one hand, she made James tell me. On the other hand, she knew and didn’t. “It’s fine, touch wood,” I said, tapping on the side of my head. “The C-section is a week tomorrow.”

“My god, Kelly. How are you feeling about it?” She took my hand. It must have been an automatic gesture as the look on her face was as surprised as I felt. She went to take her hand away but I held it there, squeezing gently.

“I feel great actually. I mean terrified. Obviously. Everything is going to be so different.” I felt her rub my fingers. I hadn’t realised it till that moment, but I’d missed her.

That moment, Fiona and Egon returned with our drinks. Egon placed one of those fruit smoothies I hated so much in front of Siggy. By the way it looked, it was at least part grass. I sighed audibly when Fiona gave me my liquorice tea, only a week to go.

“You in town for the premiere?” I asked Egon, knowing that he was.

“We got back last week for some final edits,” he said. “But that as well.”

“The reviews have been good,” Fiona added. She watched the pair closely as she brought her cup up to her mouth.

“To be honest, I’ll be glad to move on to the next project. Iceland was amazing,” he spoke carefully. I watched Siggy’s face but it gave nothing away, “but it was a logistical nightmare.”

“Not to mention all the other on-set drama going on,” Siggy said, as she took her partner’s hand.

Egon talked for a while about the various falling outs and squabbles. Fiona, despite herself, quickly became engrossed in the conversation. For all of her professional success, I’d still catch her reading OK or Grazia at my doctor’s appointments. My mind wandered. I watched a young mum taking her two sons into the park. I tried to imagine Eddie, how I would dress him, what he would be like. It may be a cliché but I was anxious to meet him. After ten minutes or so of watching them play, I began looking around the table.

Fiona and Egon now seemed like the best of friends. It helped that Egon was careful to avoid any mention of James. Occasionally, he’d bring up spoiled actors and Fiona would beam at him. Siggy was being unusually quiet. I started to look at her closely. Her face. How quiet she was. The smile, content just to listen…

“Oh my god!” Everyone looked around. I clasped my hand over my mouth. I took Siggy’s hand. She seemed unsure what was happening. Perhaps she thought I was about to attack her. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Siggy went bright red, but the smile on her face told me I was right. “How long?”

“It was three months last week.” There was a lot of hugging.

With Egon and Fiona back at the counter, Siggy leaned over and whispered, “You won’t tell James, will you?”

“Why would I tell them? We hardly speak,” I couldn’t hide my annoyance at hearing their name, “Haven’t you said anything?”

She shook her head. “I’ve stopped trying to. He’s running around with a different crowd now. Egon won’t speak to him anymore.”

“Because of what happened? Fiona is going to like them even more.” We turned and watched them laughing with the waitress.

She shook her head again. “That was the start. Then, he began hanging out with a different crowd.”

“Alyssa?”

She looked at me shrewdly, “She was a part of it, yes. The actors, well they are often very self-centred. It goes with the job. They come to expect star treatment. Put them on top of a glacier in the middle of the Arctic Circle and you can imagine how well they took to it.”

We talked and talked. The sky turned from grey to night and the street lights came on. Eventually it was Fiona who brought things to an end. ‘I’m going to need to get Kelly home,’ she told us. ‘Aw mum,’ I replied to laughs.

Fiona was quiet for most of the drive home. When she could, she rested her hand on my knee.

That evening we lay on our bed watching old comedies on iplayer. Matt was out with his friends. He and Saff had come to terms with each other. I could feel Fiona holding me from behind and see the overnight bag we already had packed for the following week. It all seemed so real. But my mind refused to stay quiet. I kept replaying over and over the last meeting with James. How they had made me feel bad for ‘cheating’ on them with Fiona.

James and I had exchanged emails since then, but they had been practical, about dates, money etc. It all left me feeling somehow empty.

-----

It was three days before I was scheduled to go in hospital for the C section.
“Fi, come in here! Please!” I was in the kitchen, searching the cupboards for something to calm my stomach. I don’t know if it was the baby or the anxiety, but in the past few days, Priscilla and her reflux had come back with a vengeance.

Fi came rushing in, “What’s wrong, Kells?”

I pointed at the puddle on the floor. “I’ve had enough! I can’t wait for Eddie to get here. I’m tired of this.” In addition to my ankles swelling to the same size as my calves, sleeplessness and reflux, I had added incontinence to my list of ailments as well. While Fi and all the websites told me this was normal, I had still had enough.

Fi knelt down, stuck her finger in it and smiled, “Your water broke.”

“How is that even possible,” I asked. “How? I mean, the suit and all? That’s why I’m having a C section, right? That makes no sense.”

The smile never left her face. “You’re a woman, Kells. A beautiful pregnant woman. You saw him in the amniotic fluid, sweetie. This just means Eddie’s ready to come,” she said, giving me a kiss and seating me in a chair. She said later that the look on my face was one of ‘utter incomprehension. Adorable utter incomprehension.’ She went to the door and got my shoes and coat. She knelt down, put on my shoes and tied them like I was a toddler, put on my coat and said, “come on, Kells. We’re going to hospital now.”

Then she called Matt, who was at Saff’s Aunt Ruth’s house, studying. Richard had told me that Saff had begun spending some nights at home. Ellen had agreed that her brother was not allowed in the house as long as Saff was there. Her brother was extremely unhappy but, as Richard had put it, ‘she’s realised what’s most important. I can’t say I miss him.’

“Matt, Kells is in labour. We’re off to Whipps Cross.” She told me that she heard him and Saff cheering. “Tell Saff and Ruth thank you,” she said, laughing. “Put Ruth on. Yes, yes, she is. Thank you. About as well as a girl that age can be,” she said, with a laugh, presumably referring to me. “Well, I apologise for the short notice, but can Matt spend the night with you? Thanks.”

Just then, I felt my abdomen clench very tightly. The best way that I can describe it is, if your abdomen was a wet towel, it was like someone wringing it dry - in an industrial class wringer, I screamed, “Ow, fuck! Goddammit! Fuck!”

Fi smiled, “Yes, Ruth, someone just had her first contraction. I remember it too.”

I glared at her and said, “Get off the phone now!”

She laughed, “I will let you know and thank you.”

She led me to the car, gently rubbing her finger in my palm, “It’s going to be OK, Kells. That just means Eddie wants to meet his mum.”

“It hurts like bloody fucking hell, FI!”

She buckled me in the passenger seat. “I know, sweetie.”

“Sorry,” I said, feeling embarrassed.

“Every mum in labour feels that way,” she said. “And soon you’ll have a beautiful boy. We’ll have a beautiful boy.”

I relaxed for a second thinking about that. “Did you call Dr. Patel yet?”

She smiled, “I called from the flat. I got her messaging service.”

I got nervous. “She has to be there. What if she’s not there? She knows what to do,” I said quickly. I felt my pulse race.

Fi smiled, “I’m sure she will be there.” She told me later that she only hoped she was, that she wouldn’t know what to do if she wasn’t.

“Did you call them?” I asked.

It took her a second. She took a deep breath. “I will.”

“Sorry. They’re the father. They should at least know I’m in labour.” Under her breath, I thought I heard say, ‘least father, right.’ “Please, Fi, I love you but they’re the father. You wouldn’t like if the places were switched.”

She smiled at ‘I love you,’ then laughed, “I would have been thrilled to switch places with John, had it been possible.”

We drove to the hospital quickly but carefully, FI’s hands at 10 and 2, like she was taking her driving test again. I didn’t feel another contraction but kept taking short breaths, three puffs out, one breath in, like I had seen women on the television do it. For whatever reason, it relaxed me like counting sheep to fall asleep.

We pulled up to the emergency entrance and left the car. Fi walked me in and said to the receptionist. “Hi, my wife is in labour.” I smiled at ‘wife.’ Obviously, we weren’t married yet but somehow that felt right. Ms. Fiona Walters and Ms. Kelly Cooper. “She’s due for a C section Friday, but someone decided to come a little early,” she said with a smile.

The receptionist gave the briefest of smiles. I didn’t begrudge her, as I was sure that she saw everything and was thinking about the end of her shift. “Right,” she said. “Do you have your NHS number, National Insurance or post code will do, luv? Backup after the hacking incident,” she said to me. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Please,” I said. “Can someone make sure Dr. Patel - Dr. Priyanka Patel - knows I’m in labour? She’s the one who’s doing my C section?”

The clerk said, “You will be fine. Dr. Richardson is on staff tonight. He’s excellent.”

I wanted to say something about the suit and how I didn’t want to go back but was afraid they’d throw me out. Instead, I had a contraction. I let out a banshee wail. “MOTHERFUCKER!”

That got a smile from the receptionist and the other women in admittance, including a mum with a five year old boy. The clerk turned to Fi and said, “How far apart?”

“About twenty-five minutes. This is only her second contraction.”

“OK, love. Someone will be along shortly.” She handed Fi a placard. “Put this in your window so you don’t get a ticket. We’ll take you in triage shortly,” she said, laughing.

“Fi, please don’t leave,” I said. “I need you.”

She gave me a kiss on the lips, the rest of emergency be damned. “I will be right back,” she said. “I promise.”

The other mum in the room said, “Is this your first, dear?” I nodded. “I was in labour with Nicholas for forty hours,” she said. ‘Is this supposed to help?’ I thought. She took my hand. “What’s your name, darling?” ‘Kelly,” I squeaked “You are going to be fine, Kelly. Your wife will be right back and in the meantime, I’m right here. OK?” I was petrified of another contraction and couldn’t speak. I nodded again and choked out, ‘thank you.’

“So, do you know what you’re having,” she said, sweetly.

“Yes, Eddie. Edward. A boy. For my father. I mean he’s named after my father. I’m having a boy,” I babbled.

She smiled and ruffled Nicholas’ hair. “There’s nothing like a boy,” she said. “Special bond between a boy and his mum,” she said. “Here comes your, er…”

“My wife,” I said, smiling, as Fi sat down.

The woman offered her hand. “Melanie Stoneham,” she said, “congratulations. She was a bit scared.”

Fi smiled. “Thank you. I’m Fiona Walters and this is Kelly Cooper. Thank you for sitting with her. It’s her first, my second” to which they both smiled and nodded. I hated being on the outside but wasn’t ready to be on the inside.

The nurse took us into triage. The word conjured up images of war movies, of soldiers being brought in on stretchers, suffering from gaping wounds. Instead, I was put into a reclining chair with stirrups attached. A doctor came in, a tiny red haired woman. She looked like Livvy, far too young to be a physician but then I realised that, to her, I probably looked far too young to be a mum. “Hi,” she said, looking at my chart. “I am Dr. Connell. I take it you’re Ms. Cooper,” she said.

Fi looked at her and said, “I’m sorry, Dr. Connell, but are you actually a physician?”

She smiled, the smile of someone used to being asked to prove her credentials. “I am, ma’am,” she said, emphasizing ‘ma’am.’ Fi hated ‘ma’am.’ Every time a clerk said it, she called it her ‘daily ma’am-o-gram.’ “I’m in my second year of residency here. Don’t worry though. Dr. Richardson is on tonight. I am, however, qualified to examine Ms. Cooper.”

“Sorry,” I said. “She’s nervous. I’m nervous. We’re nerv…..COCKSUCKING SON OF A BITCH, I FUCKING HATE HIM.” I forgot if Tourette’s was a symptom of labour. “Sorry.”

She laughed, “You’ll have to repeat yourself. I seem to be hard of hearing,” which got a laugh from Fi. “OK, well, Ms. Cooper, you appear to be about 4 cm dilated and seventy percent effaced.”

“Which means?”

She smiled. “It means you’re in labour. It means, and we don’t know for sure, that this baby is coming soon.”

“But, but, I’m scheduled for a C section. There are….complications that they said require one.”

She looked at my chart and said simply, “Oh. Oh yes.” She went over to the phone and said, “page Dr. Richardson to triage, please.”

“What’s oh?” Fi said. “Dr. Connell, what does oh mean? You’re scaring her.”

Dr. Connell said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. It doesn’t mean anything. You asked me whether I was a physician. I am but this is for one of the senior staff. That’s all.”

We sat there for an eternity. The clock said it was only seven minutes, but the clock was wrong. At the end of eternity, an older gentlemen, about 55 years old, with salt and pepper hair came in. He looked out of central casting. I hoped this was a doctor and not an orderly. He looked at Dr. Connell and said, “Doctor, it’s your job to take care of this part. Why are you calling me in? What is so special about this patient?” She wordlessly handed him the chart, he reviewed it and said, “Ah, I see.” I felt mortified and wished I could crawl into a hole. Fi sat next to me and said, stroking my hair, “it’s OK, Kells.”

The older gentleman smiled and said, “I’m Dr. Richardson. So, I see we have a case of tennis elbow, Ms. Cooper.”

I laughed in spite of everything. “It has been bothering me terribly, doctor.”

He turned to Dr. Connell and said briskly, in a manner I only thought was on the telly, but then again I had never been in labour before, “So, what do we have, Doctor?”

“The patient, a female, 25 years old, no prior births or pregnancies. I examined her and she appears to be about 4 cm dilated, with 60 percent effacement. The patient is scheduled for a Caesarean section since she’s, uh…”

“Since she’s what, Doctor? Out with it!”

“Well, the pregnancy is due to a nanosuit and the patient was born male and…”

“And what, doctor? In the time you’ve been fumphing around, there could have been complications. Bloody hell. I apologise, Ms. Cooper.” He looked between my legs and said, “You appear to be about 5 cm and 70 percent effaced now, Ms. Cooper. How do you feel?”

“Scared. Embarrassed.”

He said gently, “Whatever for?”

“The nanosuit. That I’m not what I appear to be. That Dr. Connell is uncomfortable.”

“Dr. Connell is uncomfortable because Dr. Connell knows she should have known better,” he said, glaring at her. “As far as what you appear to be, you appear to be a woman in labour which is good, because that’s what you are, no?”

I smiled, “Thank you, doctor. When can I expect Dr. Patel?”

He let out a laugh. “For what?” I saw Fi stifle a giggle.

“She’s supposed to do the C section? No offence.”

He turned to Fi and said, “Bloody millennials, always so smart. Well, it’s been awhile since I’ve given my CV in here, but I’ve been a practicing OB-GYN for 30 years. I did my training at Cambridge and my residency in Newcastle. I was chief of obstetrics here for 9 years until I decided I was tired of administrative duties. Is that satisfactory, Ms. Cooper?” he said, flashing Fi a glance. She no longer stifled the giggles.

“Yes, doctor,” I said, ashamed of myself. “Sorry.”

He smiled, “Don’t be. As Dr. Connell well knows,” by this point, she was hiding in a corner, “we discussed your case in the departmental meeting. Even if,” and he chuckled, “Priyanka’s not here, I hope you’ll trust me.” Then, he turned to Dr. Connell and said, “Get this woman up to a labour room immediately. Can you do that at least?”

WIthin five minutes, I was in a labour room. Dr. Connell apologized for ‘anything I might have said before about, well, you know. I mean, well. Well, anyway, Dr. Richardson will be along shortly.’

Five minutes later he came in, “How are you Ms. Cooper? Comfortable?”

Just then, another contraction came. Each was more painful than the last. The closest description I had to this was when, in seventh year, I told Violet McIntyre that New Kids on the Block were gay and she kicked me in the groin, while wearing pointy boots. She was on girls’ football. OK, this pain was that if delivered by Wayne Rooney. I screamed, “I AM GOING TO CUT HIS FUCKING DICK OFF!”

He and Fi laughed, while she fed me ice chips. “So, I take it the answer is no.”

“I’m glad you two find this so funny!” I screamed.

FI stroked my arm, “I’ve been there, Kells.”

Dr. Richardson joked, “When my wife was with our first, she threatened to cut my...well...cut it off and feed it to a dingo. I pointed out the lack of dingoes in Newcastle and…”

Fi laughed, “I’m beginning to doubt your qualifications, Doctor.”

He smiled and said, “It was early in residency.” He came over and said, “You’re about 7 cm dilated and 80 percent effaced now.” He turned to the nurse and said, “Call anesthesiology. I need someone up here to give an epidural now, unless you want to go naturally,” he said.

Fi and I both looked at each other and then him. Fi spoke first, “Um, doctor, we’ve discussed the nanosuit.”

“I’m aware of that,” he said. “I’ve done my research as well. Ms. Cooper, you are a woman. You have a uterus, a cervix and a vagina. If you so choose, you can deliver vaginally. Dr. Patel called for a Caesarean section to avoid complications but, given your age and health record, I see no reason why you can’t deliver vaginally, if you so choose.”

I looked at Fi and then him, “And Eddie will be OK? There’s no risk?”

He smiled. “Every delivery has its risks but you’re no more at risk than any other woman.”

I smiled, thinking that I could give birth naturally. That I could experience the full miracle of childbirth.

Whoever called it the full miracle of childbirth has never been through it.

Twelve hours later - “I can’t bloody fucking take this!” I said, squeezing Fi’s hand. She had passed out and woke up to say, “and breathe, 2, 3, 4!” After moving along like gangbusters, my labour had slowed to a crawl. I was still only 8 cm dilated and 85 percent effaced. “Fuck fuck fuck,” I screamed. I looked at my stomach and yelled, “Get out here already!”

Fi smiled, “It’s going to be OK, Kells. Eddie’s on his way. Soon, sweetie.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! HE’S NOT HERE YET AND THIS FUCKING HURTS!”

“Do you want the epidural yet?” she asked. I, like an idiot, had decided to do this naturally. Later on, after conversations with other women, I realised that was my male brain. As my friend Beth put it, ‘you know why the women in the rice paddies in Asia don’t get eipdurals? Because they can’t. If they could, they would.’

“YES! NOW! I WANT IT NOW!” The nurse smiled and called anesthesiology. In fifteen minutes, a doctor came up and gave me the epidural. I wanted to kiss him.

Every hour or so, Dr. Richardson came in, “How are we doing, Ms. Cooper.” I thinked he asked out of amusement because I said, after fourteen hours -

“WE ARE GOING TO GET OUT OF BED AND RIP YOUR HEAD OFF, DOCTOR,” then, “sorry, doctor. This really really hurts,” I’d cry.

Fi looked at him and said, “I threatened to castrate my husband. Via his mouth. With a rusty spoon.”

The nurse smiled. “I told my husband I’d kick him so hard his father’s balls would ache.”

Dr. Richardson laughed. “WIth our second, I was told that she would, and this is a quote here, ‘shove a football down my throat and make it come out my arse,’ excuse the language.” Then, he examined me and got serious. “Get an ER prepped, now.”

I started to shake, “What? What? What’s wrong?”

He took my hand and said, “There’s nothing wrong. He’s wrapped up in the cord. We can’t do a vaginal delivery. We’re going to need to do a caesarean.”

“Will he be OK? Will Eddie be OK?” I started to cry.

“He will be fine. This happens all the time,” he said. “He will be fine.” He looked at the nurse, then Fi. “Get Ms. Cooper’s wife a set of scrubs. I assume you’re coming.” She nodded. She looked pale. “OK, take Ms. Cooper in. Ms., uh….”

“Walters. Fiona Walters.”

“You’ll wait in the hall, while we prep her and then you can come in.”

“Fi, don’t leave me,” I cried. “Please.”

She came over and gave me a kiss. “I love you, Kells. It’s going to be OK.”

I lay in the operating room and faded in and out of consciousness. I only had the epidural, which numbed my lower half, but I was so afraid of what could happen and was wondering where Fi was that I could barely focus. I heard, ‘lateral incision above the pubis,’ and ‘pull back the uterine wall.’

Fi came in what I was told was five minutes later. She stroked my hair and said, “It’s going to be OK. It’s going to be OK.”

Just then, I heard Dr. Richardson say, “OK, now reach in and gently pull the cord over his head. OK, here we go.” Fi relayed all this to me after the fact. My lower half was covered by a surgical drape. That and, between the epidural and my own anxiety, I was somewhere off in the stars. I only heard, “And here we go. Ten fingers, ten toes. Everything where it’s supposed to be.” Fi said he suctioned the air out of the baby’s mouth and he let out a cry, My Eddie let out a cry, which was good. Because it drowned out mine.

Fi cut the cord and they went to weigh and measure Eddie. 8 lbs. 1 oz. 20 inches long. Perfectly healthy.

Fi walked him over and sat down. “Here’s mummy, Eddie. Here’s your son, Kells.”

I smiled and looked over at Fi holding him, “Our son.”

After 45 minutes of delivering the placenta and sewing me up, they took me to recovery. They gave me enough painkillers so that, when I see the picture of Eddie and me, I have no recollection. We joked that Fi put a cake in my hands and then photoshopped in the baby.

The next morning, I was lying in bed, feeling the effects of the surgery. I wouldn’t have traded a second of it, but it was still abdominal surgery. They had cut a hole in my abdomen and I was told it would take several weeks for me to recover. I had looked on my iPad to see if the nanos would somehow work their magic. They wouldn’t. I was just another mum with a C section.

A nurse came in, “How are you feeling, Ms. Cooper?” Fi was sitting in a chair next to me, holding my hand. Matty was downstairs getting me a bag of Maltesers. I had been so nervous in the days up to the delivery that I had been afraid to eat anything much. When the painkillers wore off, I wanted something sweet.

“It hurts. A lot,” I said.

She smiled, “I understand. Do you feel up to walking?”

“It really hurts,” I whimpered.

Fi smiled, “The sooner you walk, the sooner they can take the catheter out.” Did I mention that, as part of all of this, they had to catheterize me so that I could go to the bathroom. Yet, more proof that god was a man. Or the devil at least. “Come on, I’ll walk right next to you.”

I was negotiating my way to a sitting position when Matt came in. “Is everything OK?” he said.

I smiled, “I’m fine. I’m just getting myself up and out of bed for a walk.”

He came around and offered his hand. “Let me help. Seems a fair trade,” and he gave me a kiss. “I walked past the nursery. Eddie is the best looking baby there,” he said, with a smile. “There’s a baby girl at the back who can’t take her eyes of him. Breaking hearts already.”

We walked down the hall, slowly but surely, Matt and Fi each holding an arm. We walked past the nursery and looked in the window. In a bassinet next to Eddie was a baby that dwarfed him. The card said he was 10 pounds, 3 ounces. Matt said, “Look at him. What is he, six years old?”

I started laughing, which gave me sharp pains. You don’t realise it until they cut you open but you really do use your stomach muscles to laugh (the term ‘belly laugh’ is no lie.) “Bloody hell, Matt,” I said. “You can’t do that to me.” I felt Fi tense up. “What’s wrong?” She just looked down the hall.

That’s when I saw them. Striding along, all confidence, with a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed bear.

They approached. “I got here as soon as I could. I was in Paris doing press. Is everything OK? Is Edward?” I turned to the nursery and pointed to his bassinet. He laid there peacefully. “That’s him? That’s our son?” They were beaming and gave me a kiss. At ‘our son’, Fi tensed again. She glared at them. This was not their son, this was our son.

“Hello, Fiona,” they said.

Fiona stood next to me, guarding me like a Valkyrie. “Congratulations, James. Everything went according to plan.” Left off was ‘not that you were here. Not that I cared that you weren’t.’

James glared back, both of them oblivious to me. “Thank you, Fiona, for being there. You must be Matt,” they said, grinning. “Do you still have that My Little Pony Gymkhana set I bought you for your tenth birthday?” They tried to joke.

Matt shrugged, “I play with it all the time Aunty Jamie. Some things never change.” I wanted to kiss him (and then punch him for making me laugh again)

I had discussed Matt with them last time we spoke, in preparation for just this circumstance. They were surprisingly even-keeled about it, asking only whether John had known.

Matt held out his hand. “Congratulations, I suppose.”

They had become no better at dealing with children since the last time they had seen him. “Thanks. So, how is school? Taking your GCSEs, I suppose? What do you want to study?”

“Yes. I don’t know. Maybe psychology or something,” Matt mumbled, falling into the pattern since time immemorial of adults and teens. How long do I have to stand here before I can leave?

“Uh, that’s terrific. Do you mind if I walk with Kelly a bit,” they asked, as if I were a child to be led.

Fi glared at them and I looked at her, pleading that she at least not make a scene in the hallway. “Fi, I will be fine,” I said. She was not best pleased, but pointedly gave a me a kiss and walked away, looking back the whole time.

They took my hand and kissed my cheek. “So, how are you?”

“In pain,” I said. “Massive pain. But, otherwise, fine. Thank you for coming,” I said.

They looked at me in disbelief. “This is OUR child,” they said, emphasizing ‘OUR.’

I softened a little, realising why they were upset. “He is.” We shuffled back to the nursery and looked in the window. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

James smiled, a genuine smile, the sort I hadn’t seen since long before all of this. “He really is. Can I see him?”

Part of me didn’t want to let them but I realised that was unfair to Eddie. This was his father, after all. “Sure, let’s go back to the room and I’ll have him brought in.” We slowly shuffled back. They were shocked when I told them that I had gone through fourteen hours of labour.

“I thought that...well...you said it was a C section because of…” they said, in a low voice and looking around. I couldn’t decide whether they were stammering because they couldn’t understand or because they were afraid of being embarrassed.

I smiled. “So did I, but no, I could deliver vaginally.” They winced at my matter-of-fact attitude. I wanted to look at them and say, ‘get over it. I have a vagina. Thanks to you.’

“So, what happened?”

“He was tangled in the cord,” I said. They looked concerned. “Apparently, it’s fine. He was getting oxygen through the umbilical cord. I just couldn’t deliver naturally is all. After all that, and I still had the C anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” they said.

‘For what,’ I thought. ‘For tricking me? For leaving me broke and pregnant? For not being here when I gave birth? Which part?’ I chose to deploy a precision weapon. “It’s fine. Fi was here,” I said, with a smile.

They parried back. “I have to thank her for that.”

We shuffled back into the room. Eddie was in his bassinet, having beaten us here. Fi was in the chair, reviewing work e-mails, I presumed. Matt looked at James and me, and then Fi. “Mum,” he said, picking her up by the arm. “Let’s go. Let’s give them some time alone.”

I smiled and gave Fi a kiss. “It’s OK, Fi. We’ll be fine.”

She and James continued their staring contest. James smirked. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Kelly, Fiona. I’m so grateful.” They were a six foot tall, 180 pound man but, underneath, they were still a bitch.

“That was unnecessary,” I said.

“What? I am grateful for what she’s done in my absence.”

“You know full well what I mean, James. That was not about your absence. It’s about her presence. In my life.”

They sneered. “She’s been a presence in OUR life forever. It’s always been about her. And now it’s impacting OUR life. OUR family.”

I took a deep breath before speaking which was not smart. I winced from the pain in the surgical area.

“Are you OK?”

“No. I am most definitely not ok. I just had abdominal surgery.” They looked confused and I continued, “Yes, I gave birth but it was still surgery. Abdominal surgery. Major fucking abdominal surgery.”

They took my hand and sat me in the chair. “Should I get the nurse?”

“Give me a second,” I said. Just then, Eddie started to cry, hoarse little squeak that sounded like nothing so much as a kettle at full boil. I put my arms on the chair and said, “Hang on a second, Eddie. Mummy’s right here.”

They smiled and said, “Sit. I’ll get him.”

“Do you know how to lift a baby?”

They smiled, “One day as a mum and she’s already decided your dad’s an incompetent, Eddie.“

I laughed. “Stop! It hurts to laugh.”

They smiled. “Yes, I know how to lift an infant,” they saId, carefully lifting him and making sure to cradle his head. “Here’s mum, Eddie,” they said, tenderly.

He kept crying. He didn’t feel wet. “Can you wheel the cart over? I need to make him a bottle,” I sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

I paused for a second, wondering if I should say something. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Nothing could be stupid,” they said. “What is it?”

“I want to breastfeed but I can’t. As good as this suit is, I can’t,” and I started to cry.

They put their arm around me and I remembered the way they comforted me when my father died. Then I looked at Eddie and remembered who he was named for and I cried some more. “It’s OK, Kelly. I’m here,” they said. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be here for you and Eddie.”

For some reason, that snapped me out of my sadness. “Please,” I said. “You can’t promise that and I don’t want you to.”

“What? Our son is not even a day old and you’re saying that? How could you?” They said angrily.

“I don’t mean it that way. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You’re Eddie’s father. I want, no I expect, you to be a big part of his life. What I meant was this is your life now. You’ve worked your whole life for this and you’re getting everything you want, everything you deserve.”

“It’s everything WE worked for, everything WE deserve, Kelly. Remember how we used to talk about this? We’d sit on the roof of our old building and talk about my BAFTA and your Man Booker,” they said.

I smiled. “I remember.” I looked at them and realised that my heart no longer leapt. For years, whenever I saw them, my heart would leap with joy at how lucky I was. I no longer felt that way. “And maybe we’ll both get there still. But it’s not going to be together.”

“Stop it! I don’t know what she did but we are still married, dammit. Your place is with me!”

‘MY place is with you?’ The surgical site started to throb which, paradoxically, made me focus even harder. “Just stop it, Jamie. Stop it right bloody now,” I said, as I lifted Eddie to burp him. He made this tiny belching noise that was the funniest thing I ever heard. “I’ll humour you though. How do you see this playing out? You’ll be on set somewhere and Eddie and I will be where exactly?”

James looked at me, with all seriousness and said, “You’ll come with me. He can see the world. Think of the experience.”

I held back from laughing in their face. “Like Iceland?”

“You left,” they snapped at me. “You didn’t have to.” I could see the hurt in their eyes behind the anger and bravado.

“That’s actually not what I meant, James. What I meant was you’ll be on location and we’ll be in a hotel. Maybe come visit you on set sometime. Is that your grand plan?” I said icily.

They looked confused. “It won’t be that way this time. We’ll see everything. Just think of what he’ll get see, that we never saw.”

“And he can do that on holidays and summers, but he needs to be around other children. Not on set being a cross between a pet and an unwanted intrusion.”

“Fine. I won’t take jobs anywhere outside of England.”

I smiled. “That is utterly ridiculous. You told me you were up for a Netflix series in Los Angeles. If you did that, you’d only come to resent us.”

“Fine, but that doesn’t mean you can’t come with me.”

“What about me? What about my career?”

“You can write anywhere,” they said. “Think of what you’ll have to write about.”

I laughed. “Right, caring for my son without my family around.”

They looked at me and said angrily, “I’m your family.”

“No, you aren’t. Not anymore. Fiona and Matt are my family. You’re Eddie’s father and I will always love you but they are my family now.”

“STOP IT! THEY ARE NOT YOUR FAMILY! I AM!” I saw a vein bulge out of the side of their head.

“Lower your voice,” I hissed. “There are women here who just gave birth. They don’t need your drama.”

They lowered their voice. “What can I do to prove it to you? I will give you a check for what I took right now,” they said, fidgeting with their watch and scratching their hand the way they used to, when they were nervous or lying.

“Is that what you think this is about? Money? If you want to return what you took, that would be grand,” I said. “But that’s a symptom of a problem, not the problem itself.”

“You resent me for what I did. Fine, we can take off the suits. We’ll go back to the way we were, before. Will that show you how serious I am?”

“No. All that will do is make you resent us more. You have everything you’ve worked for, James. You’re a successful actor. The reviews were wonderful, congratulations. If you go back to the way you used to be, you’ll just come to hate us. I’ve had one woman in my life who left because she couldn’t deal with being a mum, I will not allow a second.” They started to protest and I held up my hand. “You know I’m right,” I said.

They wouldn’t let it go. “If you don’t agree, you’re leaving me no choice.”

Now I was angry. I put Eddie back in the bassinet. I took care to swaddle him as the nurse showed me. You were supposed to wrap them up tight so they felt like they were still in the womb. Matt took one look and called him ‘burrito.’ I finished and said, “Oh really? What do you plan to do?”

“I will go to court and fight. For full custody,” they smirked.

“On what grounds?”

“You’re an unfit mother. You’re not even a mum,” they said.

If I could have, I would’ve leapt at them and choked them. Instead, “that may be the cruelest thing you have ever said to me, ever. It may the cruelest thing I have ever heard from anyone, you bastard.” I choked back tears and continued, “If that’s what you think you need to do, go ahead. Drag this through the courts. The fucking Sun will have a bloody field day. The great actor’s actually a ‘bird.’ Perhaps you can do a very confusing Page 3 shoot. That’ll do wonders for your career, you fucking arsehole.” I hoped Eddie wasn’t absorbing the hate in the room. I wanted to call for the nurse to take him, to save him from this.

They smirked and looked towards the hospital. “Trans is very in, haven’t you heard?”

I thought about Matt lying in hospital, the tubes running from his nose. And Saff and her mum. And Andrew Fucking Hall. I took a deep breath, pain be damned. “Well, sexual assault isn’t.” I was proud of myself for not yelling.

“Oh, we’re back on that again, are we?”

I smiled. “We are. And more importantly, you’re not that fucking important,” I almost said ‘yet’ but didn’t want to offer anything that might sound encouraging. “Do you really think a studio wants the bad publicity that comes from having an actor who pulled this shite? Maybe I look like a fool for going along, but do you see women falling for an actor who basically conned his poor girlfriend. Who do you want to be, Ben Affleck or Casey Affleck?” All my Grazia reading was paying off.

“His poor GIRLFRIEND?” They said, rolling their eyes.

“Yes,” I snarled. “Girlfriend. You can take off the suit if you want, but this is me. This is who I am. I am not going to yell, I am not going to scream. But I will fight you tooth and nail for that boy,” I said, pointing at Eddie, who thankfully slept peacefully. “And you know what? If you don’t care about me, if you don’t care about you, care about OUR son. Do you want to drag him through the mud? Make him the unwitting star of your little sideshow? Is that really what you want? Think before you speak.”

They slumped. “I want us to be a family.”

“James,” I said, putting my hand on their shoulder. “Is that really what you want? Really? Or is this about Fiona?” They started to talk and I stopped them again. “Seriously, you need to think about what you really want. Do you really see yourself as an everyday dad, changing nappies now and again and nipping off to the store for milk and ‘hi honey, I’m home!’”

They paused. “Do you see yourself as mum? Up all night with the sick baby, making lunch for school and oohing and aahing over some shite mug he made in art class?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately. “Unequivocally yes. I can’t wait,” and I couldn’t hold back my smile, “to get some scribble on a piece of paper and proudly put it up on the refrigerator. Did you notice something, James?”

“What?”

“I answered immediately. You answered my question with your own question. Does that tell you something?” They were at a loss for words. “I love you, James and will always love you. But, do you really see a relationship working that’s based on a threat, do you? Are we going to be Sandra and Lionel?” Those were her parents. Their marriage was, as my aunt Priscilla used to say, ‘made a few steps shy of heaven.’ Priscilla was a caustic old bat, that’s why I named my reflux after her. “Is that your goal?”

“I hate this, you know,” they said quietly, letting down the mask. “I hate that we’re not us and I hate that it’s her. Are you happy now?”

“No, I’m not, Jamie,” I said. “I’m really not. If you want to only work in London, that’s your decision and I’ll support it unequivocally. You can see Eddie as much as you want then, he can stay over every other day if you want, you’re his father. But, we are not getting back together. We’re done.”

“Why won’t you give us another chance?”

I almost laughed in their face. Then I looked at them again and saw that they were sincere. Utterly narcissistic and misguided, but sincere. “If you had asked me six months ago, it would’ve been because I didn’t trust you, but…”

“How can I regain your trust? I love you Kelly.”

“And you probably believe that,” I said. I saw the pain in their eyes and knew I had achieved my goal. “But as I was saying, that’s not it anymore. I love Fiona, I’m in love with her and, like you said in the cafe, not in that stupid moony way I was at Uni. That wasn’t love, that was lust and puppy love and something else. But, I love her. And she loves me, as I am. I don’t expect you to accept that now but I hope that you will someday. And I want you to have that love too.”

They put their head down and started to cry. “I did,” they said. They looked at me. “I don’t know who you are,” they said, “but I used to know a Kelly Cooper and I loved him. And he loved me.” I felt awful. I tried to convince myself that they were manipulating me, but knew they weren’t. I held them in my arms and let them cry.

Fi walked back in and looked at me. I just shook my head. They looked up and looked at Fi, “Congratulations. Treat her right.” They walked over to the table where the teddy bear was and put it in Eddie’s bassinet. They leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Daddy loves you, Eddie. Be a good boy for your mum and Fiona. Try not to bother your brother too much.”

I started to cry. “James, please.”

They looked at me, wiped their eyes and smiled sadly. “I’ll call you and we’ll set schedules. You’ll let me know what days and times work. Don’t worry. I won’t do to him what she did to you,” and he left the room. I wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but then Eddie started crying. I needed to be his mum first.

---

I wanted everything to be perfect. Fi had laughed at me, telling me that Eddie would have no idea what Christmas was for at least another year or two. I didn’t care, this was going to be the best Christmas ever. By the time I was finished, between the decorations and the baby stuff the flat was full.

On the day, we had the morning to ourselves. Bill, Julia and the boys were driving up but wouldn’t be here until afternoon. The rest of the guests would be getting here around 2.

As was tradition in the Walters household, we took it in turns to open our presents going around in a circle one at a time. Matt started, a biography of Bill Shankly from Fi. Then Eddie, sitting on my knee got his first ever Christmas present. A Sophie the Giraffe, again from Fi. I unwrapped it for him and watched as his little hands tried to hold it. His eyes squinted trying to focus. Never before had someone so completely held my attention. Not Jamie/James, not even Fi.

We continued along the same line for the next hour. Fi made us all a bucks fizz, even that small amount of alcohol made my head spin after months of abstinence. Matt clearly enjoyed being allowed to drink in front of his mum.

The only downer was Matt’s present for Eddie. A tiny replica Liverpool kit.

“I hope you kept the receipt, Matt. There’s a misprint. It should say ‘Fly Emirates,” the Arsenal kit.

“Remind me again, O.M., how many European trophies have the London clubs won? Added all together?”

“Hmmm,” I crossed my arms.

After we finished, Fi pulled me away into the kitchen. Matt was playing with Eddie. I watched him suspiciously as he showed Eddie his Bill Shankly book. I wondered what Eddie would make of a legendary Liverpool manager from before I was born. I wondered what Matt made of him. A manager who was a self-professed socialist and who had made his team share their sandwiches with supporters. A different world to today’s premiership.

“I wanted to give you this.” Fi looked nervous.

“You didn’t have to spend anything, “ I could feel my forehead wrinkling. We had agreed on a maximum budget for each other, saving our money for the boys.

“Just let me get this out,” her face had gone pale. “Kelly, when you came into my life again, I was…” she held out a little box. A ring sized box. It was my turn to turn pale. “I was lost Kelly. I didn’t think I could ever be happy again.” We were both crying.

“F-F-Fi, you don’t have to thank me. You’ve done so much for me…” I could hardly breathe, let alone speak.

“No Kells, I do need to thank you. You’ve saved me. Saved us. I don’t know what I’d do without you. It terrifies me to think what Matt and I would have done without you this year. I love you. Should I get down on my knee for this?” I was crying and grinning like an idiot at the same time. I shook my head ‘no’.

She opened up the little box, “Kelly Cooper, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

I laughed at the formality of her language. I hugged her close. Much closer than I could have a month ago.

“Is that a yes then?” Fi said half laughing.

I kissed her then nodded.

“About bloody time, mum,” Matt walked in carrying Eddie. He’d make a great dad sometime. “Welcome to the family properly O.M.” He handed me the baby, “I think he needs a change.” Thankfully, fatherhood was still a few years off.

“Right,” I said, holding Eddie up and watching him gurgle, “Leave us alone you two. We have a Christmas dinner to cook.”

I don’t know what possessed me to cook for eight people less than a month after giving birth. Ten if you counted Eddie and me. In future years I’d look back and wince. I guess I just wanted him to be surrounded by lots of people who loved him.

Bill, Julia and the boys were the first to arrive. Bill and Julia came to greet Eddie and me in the kitchen. They both looked tired. Through the dividing bookshelf, I could see the boys tearing about the living room, re-creating a space battle for Matt.

“You look tired Billy boy,” I gave him a hug and a kiss.

“Try spending three hours in a car with two boys high on Christmas chocolate.” Julia laughed, then she jumped, “Kelly! What’s that on your finger? Is it what I think it is?”

I blushed. I smiled. I laughed and cried a little.

“Hey you,” Bill said to Fi as she came in, “Are you finally making an honest woman out of my little sister?”

“Well, you know how I like to help out a fallen woman.” She put her arms around me from behind, as the other two chuckled.

“Stop picking on her,” Julia intervened on my behalf, “Can I help Kelly?” Sweat was dripping of my brow.

“No, no,” I said unconvincingly, “Everything is under control.”

“Right,” Julia said, rolling up her sleeves. “You two take Eddie next door and keep an eye on the boys. We’ve got work to do.”

With a practiced movement, Uncle Bill picked up his new nephew and turned to Fi, “Five boys for Christmas. I hope Lloyd’s gave you a deal on insurance?” Fi laughed, then looked worried.

Half an hour later, while I was checking on the sprouts and bacon, I heard the doorbell ringing and Matt running to get it. Ten minutes later Richard and Saff stuck their heads into the kitchen.

“Hi Kelly,” Richard looked tired but happy.

Saff’s eyes were drawn to my finger. She took my hand and demanded, “Let me see. Let me see.” Laughing, I showed her the ring. “Wow, it’s beautiful! How much did it cost do you think?”

“That’s not important,” Lots, I was sure.

“Congratulations.” They both gave me a hug.

“Right, give us some space. We’re nearly ready. Tell Fi twenty minutes.” That wasn’t entirely true. All that was left to do was to keep an eye on things so Julia and I relaxed with a large glass of white each.

Fiona, Matt and Bill had cleared the living room and set up a large table surrounded by every chair we owned. Including the two plastic chairs from the garden. Bill’s boys were barely able to sit still and, I figured, were heading for a big sugar crash in about hour or two. I suspect that was Bill’s plan, hoping that they would sleep in the car home.

As per Cooper family tradition, we were all wearing the worst Christmas jumpers we could find. Mine had a badly knitted snowman. Bill had a reindeer who’s nose lit up and Matt had a blue and white Doctor Who themed jumper. Apparently the idea the main character could change his (potentially ‘her’) physical appearance had struck a chord in the young Matt.

As we sat down, I watched Matt and Saff sitting at the opposite end of the table. They were crushed in together, arm to arm. Every now and then Saff would lean her head on his shoulder. I also noticed Bill’s eldest glancing in Saff’s direction. They grow up so fast. ‘Give me a few good years first’, I silently prayed to Eddie who, in reply, sicked up a little of his milk onto his bib.

During the break between the main meal and dessert, I noticed Richard slipping into the garden with Bill. I followed them.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Richard smiled, “It’s for my back pain your honour.”

“Sure. Now give me a drag.”

“Aren’t you breastfeeding?” Bill enquired.

“We’re doing bottle. Remember, the thing, Bill?” I couldn’t keep the disappointment and envy out of my voice. He smiled and nodded. “I take it Julia is driving.”

Bill smiled broadly, “that’s the deal.”

“One plus side of having a religious wife,” Richard grinned, passing Bill the joint.

From inside, I could hear Julia, “I don’t care what you think. This is a hallway, not a Formula One track.”

Bill sighed, looking at the joint like a man in the Sahara eyeing a bottle of Evian, then passing it to me, “No rest for the wicked. You’re going to find yourself stringing together all sorts of words you didn’t know went together. A zebra is not a weapon, for example.” He walked in and I heard him yell, “Do we put your brother’s shoes on the bookshelf, Alex?” Richard laughed and then handed me the joint.

I took a drag. “Matt and Saff are getting along well.”

“He’s a good kid. Ellen knows what he did for Saff. She says thank you.” His voice trailed off.

“Really?” I said, perhaps more sternly than I had meant to. “Sorry, that’s not fair.” I handed the joint back to him, “So what do you think the chances are for them getting back together?”

Richard took a drag, “You don’t know?”

I shook my head. “I’ve been a little busy lately,” I laughed.

“She’s already dating another boy. A spotty urchin called Chris, on the rugby team. I didn’t know when I had it good. I think I prefer the boyfriends who have to get their testosterone from the chemist.”

“Does Matt know?” I looked through the window. I could just see Matt sat in the armchair, Saff perched on the armrest as they unwrapped their presents to each other.

“They hang out all the time, so I guess so. I did hear Matt’s seeing some Jewish girl from Clement Attlee Academy. Has he not said anything?” Again I shook my head accepting the joint off him. “I wouldn’t worry. They’re always secretive at that age. Matt’s a very mature boy. You can trust him.”

I knew he was right. “Jewish, hey? Between us, we’re a Labour council’s wet dream.”

After they had left Matt wandered off to his room and Fi and me crashed on the sofa. Bill and Richard had helped us put the table and chairs away. The rest we’d have to deal later. I lay with my head on Fi’s shoulder admiring my ring.

“So, I chose well?”

“It’ll do,”

“Cheeky cow.”

That moment Eddie started to cry.

“I’ll get him,” Fi kissed the top of my head. “Rest. Everything was lovely.”

“Thanks, husband,” I replied.

-----------------

“Happy birthday, dear Eddie. Happy birthday to you,” everyone sang. Eddie laughed along, even though he had no idea it was his birthday, his first. He was just happy to have people around.

“OK, now, Fiona and Kelly, get in close to him, 1-2-3, smile,” said James. He had flown in from Los Angeles. He had got the Netflix series, a police procedural with overtones of horror and maybe a little Sci-Fi. There had been a lot of rewrites and his character had gone from ‘rugged’ to a recovering alcoholic looking for a group of kids who went missing in a forest. When I’d asked him about it, he’d made a big deal about how much more complex and satisfying to play the character was now. I knew he missed the thought of playing the hero though.

I told him that he didn’t need to fly in special, that Eddie would be happy to see him no matter when and he laughed, saying, “it’s my son’s first birthday. I can’t miss this.”

James took the picture and Fi said, “Switch places, James. Let’s get a picture of Eddie and his mum and dad.” James knelt down next to Eddie, who kept pushing on his face. James had moved to California when Eddie was four months old. He called on Skype almost every day, but Eddie was used to us tapping on the iPad so he, ‘can see Daddy.’ Eddie assumed that this was just a bigger iPad and kept tapping on him to see what happened. James played along and made silly noises or faces whenever he did it, which made him laugh.

“OK, now who wants cake?” Fi said, cutting into the chocolate cake I had baked the previous day.

I smiled and held Eddie. “Do you want cake,” I said sweetly. “Do you, my little man?” He gave a big smile. “Dr. Cromwell,” our pediatrician, “gave the OK, right sweetie?”

“Yes,” Fi said, shooting Bill and Julia a look that can best be described as ‘new mum,’ “Eddie can have cake too.” He reached his hand in and happily smeared it all over the new outfit I had bought him for the party, little blue shorts and a white shirt. Well, now brown and white.

Bill and Julia had come up for the day with the boys. Alex and Mikey tried to play with Eddie for about three minutes before looking at him like he was an educational videogame and an uninteresting one at that. They spent most of their time pestering Matt to show them XBox.

“Yes,” Matt sighed, for the tenth time. “We can play. FIFA or NBA 2K17?”

“Call of Duty,” Alex yelled. Mikey seconded, “Call of Duty! Call of Duty!” He had no idea what it was, other than his older brother wanted it.

“NBA, it is,” Matt said, with a smile. He had begun taking testosterone shots in preparation for his surgery. It had the effect of deepening his voice and increasing his muscle mass. He now looked like a shorter, younger John which, although she wouldn’t say it aloud, made Fiona sad. I asked her about it once, and she tried to deflect. “That was then,” she said, kissing me on the lips, “and we are now.” I wanted to tell her she could be then and still be now too, that I was willing to share, but she didn’t want to hear it.

On the plus side, Matt had let his hair grow out. On the minus side, as Bill put it when he came in, “have you taken the boy to the doctor yet, get that growth on his face checked?” Yes, Matt had grown what he called a beard. At its thickest, he looked like he had a small mangy animal crawling on his face.

While Alex and Mikey ignored Eddie, Issy and Lisa were all over him, especially Lisa. Looking at them both, I was reminded of that picture of Peggy dad had kept in his drawer. The one taken at the seaside. As I pondered how alike they looked, Issy turned and smiled, while her little sister edged forward on the carpet towards Eddie.

“Come here, Eddie,” she said, as he blissfully played with a ball that lit up and made noise. The box said it helped with cognitive development, so I bought it. It improved our cognition. Every time it made noises at random, we thought about what a mistake it was to buy it. Lisa scooped him up, under his armpits, and carried him around. He didn’t cry, just looked confused.

Perry had brought Lisa and Issy down this morning. Peggy was supposed to come but, as he said, not acknowledging but not denying reality, “she said she’s under the weather. Sorry,” he shrugged, handing us a present. She had knit Eddie a jumper, baby blue. She still had yet to see him in person which didn’t bother me. It was what I expected. I didn’t care. My sisters were here, Eddie’s aunts. His 15 and 12 year old aunts.

About an hour after cake, I saw Eddie start to zone out, getting what we called ‘nil face.’ As he was most days, he had been up since 6 AM, ready to play.

-----

“Bloody hell,” I said that morning, when I heard his cry. I looked at the clock. “It’s 6 AM. On Saturday,” I said, getting out of bed. I slept in an old t shirt of mine that James had sent over when he moved to the States. It was sort of absurd. Over time, before the bodysuit, it had become tight on me. I had blamed the laundry. The owner had smiled and said, ‘it’s funny. When my customers eat right and exercise, I don’t shrink clothes.’ Now, it swam on me. I walked into his room and took him from the crib. “Who is mummy’s little man? Who is? Who is? Who is mummy’s little vampire,” I cooed.

-----

As Eddie started to fall asleep, I picked him up and said, “I am going to change the guest of honour and put him down for his nap.” I gave him a little kiss on the forehead, I did that at least twenty times a day. He laid his head on my shoulder which, even after a year, made me feel good. It gave me a physical pleasure.

“Mind if I join you?” James asked. I looked at Fi who was deep in conversation with Lauren, James’ new girlfriend. She was a redhead, a script supervisor on his show. She came in with a puzzle for Eddie and a bottle of wine for us, which endeared her to Fi.

“Of course not,” I said. We went into Eddie’s room, with its murals of circus animals on its blue walls. A crib sat where the guest bed used to be and a changing table opposite it. I put Eddie up on the table, making sure to rest my arm lightly on him, so he didn’t fall off. He wasn’t walking yet, but he was crawling and pulling himself up. Fi laughed and said, ‘we need to stop that. Leg sweep him if you have to.’

James smiled, “So how have you been?”

“I’ve been great. Busy but great.”

“I saw the pictures on Facebook of you at Jeremy’s wedding. That was a beautiful dress.” It was a pale green chiffon dress with a jewel neck. “You looked lovely,” he said with a grin.

I smiled back, “Thanks.”

He laughed, “Bloody Jeremy. Married. I would never have guessed that, in a million years.” I told him the story of how he and Victoria met. “Bloody pregnant wingman, bloody brilliant,” she laughed. Eddie started to fall asleep in my arms. I went to get up to put him in the crib and James said, “May I?” I smiled and handed Eddie’s limp little body over. James walked over, singing, ‘who is daddy’s favorite boy? Eddie is. Eddie is.’ He laid him in the crib. I walked over and we both watched him sleep, on his back with his arms stretched out in a ‘goal’ pose. I dreamt of sleeping that peacefully. James put his arm around my waist, not in a sexual manner but that of two people who shared a history. “We did something right,” he said, with a smile.

“We did a lot right, James. We just came to the end. Last chapter, credits roll. But don’t discount what we had.”

He smiled, “Thanks. That means alot coming from you.”
I smiled, “I mean it. The good times outweighed the bad. We just ran the course is all. How have you been?”

“I’ve been great,” he said. “Busy as all get out, but great.”

“That’s terrific. I really like Lauren by the way. She’s really wonderful,” I said. I decided to tease him, “I saw her playing with Eddie…”

He laughed, “Nice try, Kelly. Nah, my therapist made me realise that you were right. I’m not cut out to be a full-time dad, I’m too selfish.”

“Your therapist? What sort of Englishman are you,” I laughed. “What happened to alcoholism and sublimation? It built the empire, you know!”

He laughed. “You and Fiona are doing a great job. He’s a lucky boy to have two great mums. Hell, you and I would have killed for one. Between us.”

“Thanks.”

“It looks good on you,” he said. “You seem really happy.”

“I am.” I could see he was trying to decide if he should apologise again for how we ended up here. I had long since moved past blaming him. We were a movie that had come to its logical end. Did the characters live happily ever after? Time would tell. “Thanks.” I left the rest unsaid and was thankful for it.

“I can’t believe the book. We were in LAX and there’s my Kelly on a giant display. ‘This season’s hot new thriller,’” he said, in a stentorian voice.

“Stop it,” I said, blushing.

“There’s talk about the movie of it. Everyone wants a role. I’ve heard Alyssa’s aiming for it,” he said, with a smile. “She’d make a great corpse.”

“Ouch,” I said, laughing. “So what happened exactly?”

He smiled. “Ah nothing really. She turned out to be a Class A, what did you call them, entitled little millena-twats?”

“Hey,” I said, lightly punching him. “I think I’m one of them now.”

He pulled me closer, “Nah, not you,” he said. “I looked at the book. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You know what.” I knew what. I had dedicated the book to ‘Fiona and James, the two loves of my life, without whom this book would never have been.’

“I meant it, James. I mean it.”

He smiled, “Yeah, well, thanks. Let’s let Eddie sleep. Everyone’s probably wondering where we are, you know?”

I gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. We turned out the lights and left the room.

------

I watched Kelly from the sidelines. Next to me was the producer and a 20 something with a clipboard. I could see the back of her head. Her ponytail bobbed up and down as she took a swig of her water.

“Ms. Walters,” the 20-something spoke to me, “would you like something to drink. Tea, coffee?”

I shook my head. I felt so nervous for Kelly I was sure I would vomit anything straight back up.

The screens above us were lit up. On it I could see the face of the presenter, Lucy Macintyre. Looking in front of me, I could see Ms. Macintyre bathed in the studio spotlight. Kelly’s chair was in the dark.

“Hello, today I’m going to be speaking with the hot new crime writer Kelly Cooper. Kelly’s debut novel The Danelaw has been winning rave reviews from almost everyone and there’s rumours Hollywood are sniffing around the film rights.” Hollywood and James. Lauren had let it slip at Eddie’s party.

The presenter turned and the lights revealed Kelly sitting in a chair, with one leg crossed over the other. It reminded me of how she sits when she wants to get me into bed. She thinks her legs are her best assets. They are, or at least one of them. She was wearing a smart blue sheath dress that only added to the effect.

“Kelly, welcome,”

“Thank you Lucy,”

“It’s been twelve months since the release of your debut novel. Have you been surprised by the response?” The presenter speaks with a pleasant Edinburgh burr.

“Very. And delighted. I originally wrote it for myself. I never expected Ingrid to be taken into the hearts of so many.” She tugged the hem of her skirt over her knee, smoothing the fabric down.

“What do you think is behind it?”

“You tell me,” Kelly leaned back, pausing for a moment, “I think readers, especially women, want to see strong female characters. I also think there’s something to say about family. As women, it often falls to us to be the bridge between generations. We are often the holders of the family secrets, the ones who keep things together when everything else is falling apart. Ingrid’s journey is one of self-discovery, but it’s also a journey into her family’s past.”

“Intriguing. Would you say there’s a separation between women’s crime fiction and crime novels written by a man?”

Kelly leaned forward, pushing her fringe out of her eyes, I remembered teaching her how to make her eyes up like that. “Yes. And no. It’s too easy to generalise, there are many male writers who can write complex female characters. As novels, Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary spring to mind. What I’d say is that, when you get down to it writing is about empathy. Good writing at least. It’s about putting yourself in someone else’s shoes and figuring out what you would do under the same circumstances. Once you start writing, the character leads you.”

“So men can write better female characters?”

“No, of course not. This all comes with the caveat that women have been marginalised for centuries and that we need more women with voices, not less.”

“The right wing commentator Andrew Hall has said that your book glories in the status of victimhood. He says he longs for novels that explore the extraordinary rather than get bogged down in the mundane.”

I saw Kelly smiling to herself; I wondered what she was thinking? “I think that’s rather a lot of syllables for Andrew Hall.”

Lucy laughed. I could see her warming to Kelly, the way most people do.

The conversation changed. Who does Kelly currently rate, what authors is she reading. I tuned out a little. I already knew the answers. What I did do was watch her mouth moving. The soft pink lips. The slight blush in her cheeks from the heat of the studio lights. You could hardly see that shy boy with the crush on me at Uni. But he was still there. The same smile, the same joy when they talked about writing.

I remembered, when I was a student, how I used to work in warehouses over the summers. Standing in line with a group of middle-aged women. All wearing white coats and hairnets.

One summer, I worked at a place that made frozen garlic bread. The sort you can buy in supermarkets anywhere. There were two sizes, the larger one for the deluxe brand, and the smaller one for the ‘economy’.

The same dough went into both. It was the hole it went through that decided its identity.

The interview finished before I realised. The lights on Kelly switched off, plunging her into darkness as Lucy talked about next week. A review of the biography of Florida senator Jessica Silverman and an interview with the northern playwright Jack Sheppard.

I wasn’t really listening. Instead I watched Kelly sitting there, looking forward to when she would return to my side.