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No Half Measures

by Jenny Walker

Second Movement

CHAPTER 9

I stood there for a moment not knowing what to say. Eventually I found my voice and spoke softly, "Yes Claire, it's me."

She looked puzzled, amazed, disconcerted, incredulous and various combinations of the above. "But what...? I mean you look... you sound... What's going on?"

I smiled, "Can I come in Claire?"

She half-frowned but then nodded, "Of course, come in and tell me what in heaven's name this is all about."

I set my suitcase down in her hallway, slipped off my coat hung it on a hook and made my way into her sitting room and plonked my tired body down on a comfy chair. Claire sat down opposite me but looked far from comfortable. She was sitting on the edge of her chair, her hands clasped together.

I took a deep breath, "Claire, I know this must look and sound strange to you." The raised eyebrow look she gave me confirmed this as a major understatement. I continued, "This isn't easy for me either. But as you can see, there have been some fairly major changes in my life recently. I mean, what do you think when you look at me?"

She looked at me without speaking for a moment and then replied slowly, "I see my brother looking and talking like a woman. What is going on Nick?"

I nodded slowly, "I don't know how to say this, but I think from what you see you can work out what I'm doing. I know this is hard for you to take in and I'm really sorry for springing it on you like this. I couldn't think of any other way to do it though."

She slowly shook her head and raised a hand to her eyes and rubbed them slowly, before fixing me in her gaze, "You're living as a woman." It was a statement. She shook her head again and spoke intently her voice rising in intensity, "You couldn't think of any other way of doing it? Nick, for heaven's sake didn't you think of talking to me? Didn't you think of mentioning this? Discussing it? I'm your sister. We don't live a million miles away, we do have telephones."

I shrugged awkwardly, "I know. You may be right, but I couldn't bring myself to talk about this on the phone." I paused for a moment, "If I had discussed this with you, what would you have said?"

She looked at me thoughtfully and spoke with honesty, "I'd probably have told you to catch yourself on and to think about what you were doing. I mean are you throwing your whole life away? On what? A whim? A fantasy? Nick I don't know why you are doing this."

I couldn't help but give an ironic little smile and my reply came with a little more forcefulness than I had intended, "Throwing my whole life away? And tell me what was so good about my life? What would you miss? What would I miss? Being a failure? Being the only one in the family not earning an honest living? Being a macho stud? Perhaps you didn't realise it Claire, but I didn't have much of a life. My life sucked!"

She came right back at me sardonically, "And what now? Are you happy? Does this make you feel whole or something?"

I paused. I nodded slowly and again spoke softly, "Yes. Yes Claire it does. You have no idea how I feel now. I know it sounds corny but it's as if someone has flipped the lights on. This is me. This is who I am. I wasn't sure at the start, but for a long time I've known I was looking for something more in life. I thought it was just waiting for my big break to come or something like that. But I've now realised even that would have been selling myself short. I can't pretend to fully understand, I don't expect you to understand at all really." I paused, "All I can hope for is that you will accept me and not turn me away."

Claire sighed and rolled her eyes. She looked away for a moment before turning back to me, "You're right. I don't understand and honestly I'm not sure I want to." She shook her head and narrowed her eyes, "I'm not going to turn you away, you're still my brother."

I don't think she realised what she just said until I gave a little smile and raised an eyebrow. She couldn't help it and she smiled and then stopped herself, "Nick! You know what I meant. You see how complicated this is? I mean have you thought of what others will think...oh goodness - Mum and Dad! What are they going to say? Have they any idea?"

I winced, "No, they have no idea. What do you think they will say?"

Claire shook her head and looked at me knowingly, "They're gonna flip."

I nodded and looked at the floor and murmured softly, "Yeah, you're probably right."

Claire continued softly, "It's not that they won't love you or something like that. But they're going to take something like this very hard. They'll think it's their fault - it'll hurt them, they'll think perhaps it reflects on how they brought you up or something."

I looked up and nodded, "I don't mean to hurt anyone Claire. But try and understand, I now realise that each day I was dying inside. I had no idea who I was or what I was doing. Life was drab, empty and pretty miserable. I didn't like who I was. Things are so different now. All that has changed. You wouldn't understand. You've always been so focussed and successful all the way."

Claire nodded, "It's not as if I don't have any problems Nick. You're not the only one who has ever had difficulties."

I raised my hands, "OK, I didn't mean it like that. But I'm just trying to make you see something of why I'm doing what I'm doing."

"That's fine, but I'm just trying to think out what the implications of your actions will be. Have you thought through the consequences? I mean what are you going to do for a living?"

I sighed, "Believe me, I've thought long and hard about what I'm doing. I've thought about the consequences. There hasn't been a day when I haven't thought about you and Mum and Dad. But I have to do this."

"And a job?" she prompted.

I grinned, "I've got on OK so far without a proper job."

She wouldn't be deflected, "Yes but you were telling me how miserable that was. Seriously have you thought about it?"

"Yes Claire, I've thought about it. I have a few plans, a few options. I'll see what works out." For some reason I didn't want to tell her about the recording contract just yet. I felt that she had to accept who I was first before I was prepared to tell her what I was going to do. It would be too much all at once.

It seemed to put her off that track, but she moved on, "Well what do other people think?"

I hesitated, "Well not that many people know."

She wrinkled her brow, "What do you mean? I doubt people could fail to notice the change in your appearance. Heavens above, I'm your sister and I could barely recognise you at first."

I shrugged, "I haven't told many people. Only a few people know."

Claire was not being put off this time, "Who?"

"Julie, her sister. My doctor."

Claire repeated, "Your doctor." She paused and made the connection, "You're taking hormones." A statement.

I gave her a weak smile. She shook her head slowly again and rubbed her eyes. She looked at me thoughtfully and spoke in a measured tone, "You're completely serious about this aren't you?"

I nodded and in an even tone replied, "Totally Claire. More serious about this than I have been about almost anything in my life."

"There's nothing I can say or do that is going to make you reconsider this is there?" I shook my head and she continued, "I guess that must be the case if you are thinking of telling Mum and Dad all this. But seriously, how come no-one else has noticed?"

I sighed, "You don't give up do you? For the last four weeks I have been down in Devon at Julie's family home. That's why no one else is really aware of it. That's where I well sort of changed to what you see now. This is sort of a secret, in that I don't want it being broadcast."

Claire rolled her eyes again, and half-sarcastically asked, "What you're going to start some new life or something and hope no one realises?"

I nodded, and softly said, "Yes something like that."

She gave a hollow laugh, "Oh come on Nick, how are you going to do that? Why? I mean why not be open about it?"

I sighed, "Look Claire, trust me on this. I've got it in hand. I'll explain more tomorrow. I'm sure I've given you enough to take in tonight already."

"You can say that again. So what part did Julie play in all this?"

I shrugged, "She's been a good help, a support."

Claire nodded and looked a little sceptical, "This isn't some sort of joke? Some sort of bet or dare or something stupid like that."

I was getting weary, I inclined my head and looked at Claire, "You might think I'm crazy with all this, but I am not stupid."

She nodded and raised her hands, "OK OK, I'm sorry. Just checking."

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I was too tired to try to think of anything else to say and just waited for her to speak again. Claire looked deep in thought and after a while she looked at me again. "What do you call yourself?"

I didn't quite know what she meant. Did she mean my name? Or was she talking about the terminology of what I was becoming? I didn't know how to answer the latter myself so I went with the former, "Umm, Cara Malone."

She wrinkled her forehead, "Cara Malone? Where did you get that from? Why on earth make up a totally new name?" My sister Claire wasn't stupid, far from it and after a brief pause she fixed me in her gaze, "Alright Nick or Cara or whatever you want to call yourself, what is going on here?"

I tried to act confused, "What do you mean? I've explained already."

She shook her head, "No. There's more. OK, so you want to be a woman - we've covered that ground. But there's something else - you are keeping this a secret, you have hardly told anyone and you've totally changed your name. Are you in some kind of trouble or something?"

I sighed. Even in our younger days I was never able to keep a secret from Claire. She was too clever and shrewd. She got the brains and I got the artistic talent I always reckoned. Claire had a little musical ability, but that was about the only area where I knew I surpassed my sister. "OK," I began slowly, "You're right. There is more to it. I'm not in trouble though. It all relates to what I'm going to do from here on." I paused. If I was going to have to tell her, I was at least going to keep her in suspense for a few moments more. It worked.

"Oh for goodness sake Nick, out with it!" she said impatiently.

I grinned, "OK. Well let's just say I've sort of got a record deal."

She blinked a few times and her expression clouded as she processed the information. She frowned a little and then began to think aloud, "You have a record deal. As a woman. So you don't want people to know you are really Nick Evans. Scandal, not good for business - well for an unknown anyway. So the secrecy and the name change." She nodded to herself satisfied that she now had the full story. She slowly shook her head, "OK, granted you look like a woman and talk like a woman - but how on earth are you going to manage to sing as a woman?"

I smiled at her, put my finger to my lips to silence her. Claire had a cheap electric piano in her living room. She liked to tinkle and potter around on it for relaxation. I went over to it and switched it on. After a few quick chords to get the feel I started into "Nine years old again." I gave her a good rousing performance and when I finished I saw the same wide-eyed stare on her face that I had seen with both Jools and Beth when they first heard 'Cara' perform. I said nothing, but got up from the piano stool and sat back down on the chair. I smiled and raised an eyebrow at her.

She exhaled slowly, "Heavens above! Alright, well I guess that answers that question. Gee, well I can see how you've finally got the big one. No offence, but anything I've ever heard you do before doesn't compare to that."

I nodded and shrugged, "I know."

I could see the cogs of her mind turning again, she began slowly, "Alright - one more question - so what came first: the record deal as Cara or wanting to live your life as Cara?"

Damn, but she was good. I steeled myself and prepared to try and fudge this issue. I was going to have to be convincing to pull the wool over her eyes. I nodded and sighed, "You think I'd change my sex, live as a woman, face you and the rest of the family just to get a record deal?" I stared hard at her.

She sat back a little and her posture became a little defensive, "Look Nick...Cara...I'm sorry, but I just want to be sure of what you are doing." She paused, "You didn't answer my question..."

I nodded and with a quiet intensity replied, "I'm not going to answer a question like that. But let me say this, and perhaps this will put such a crazy notion out of your mind: if you gave me the choice of being Nick and having the most successful music career in the history of rock and roll, or the choice of being Cara and never having one ounce of success - then I choose Cara." I inclined my head somewhat defiantly and looked her in the eyes. She nodded. I had got away with it. And the reason was that what I had just said was the complete truth. I did mean it. But I only realised this now. I had a new perspective.

"I'm sorry Nick...Cara....oh for goodness sake this is ridiculous," she said with exasperation.

"What is?" I asked puzzledly.

She shook her head, "I know why you've changed your name and all that, but there is no way that you can expect us, your family, to suddenly change what we call you. I mean OK so maybe you are going to be some big hotshot star with a new stage name, lots of stars do it - but they still all have real names and I bet Elton John's mother still calls him Reg!"

"Umm, I think his mother's dead Claire."

"Oh don't be facetious - you know what I mean."

I nodded, "Yes OK, I get your point. Well what do you suggest?"

She shrugged, "I think we should call you Nic."

I blinked, "Huh? But that's like my name anyway?"

She sighed, "Nic, n-i-c, short for Nicola. It's close enough to remember. Even Cara Malone had to be someone normal when she wasn't famous," there was a touch of irony in her voice, "and before she was a big star she was plain old Nicola Evans."

I chewed my lower lip and thought about it. It did make sense. "OK, well that could work I guess. And I think it would probably be easier on Mum and Dad rather than me telling them I have changed my name to Cara Malone."

Claire snorted with laughter, "Oh it'll make all the difference. You're changing to live as a woman, but as long as you call yourself Nicola they'll totally understand."

I think she spotted the pained look on my face and her expression softened, "Nic-ola, I'm sorry. It seemed funny but I guess it's not. No you are right, it will be one less thing for them to come to terms with."

I nodded to myself, "Alright. I'm Nicola Evans then for the time being. But I'm going to have to tell Mum and Dad what I'm planning to do."

Claire nodded, "Yes but this way you can do it a little more gently." She paused, "Heck, didn't you think of making yourself look a little less female before coming to see me. It might have made things easier on me Nic..ola."

I laughed. Claire looked puzzled, "Did I say something funny?"

I grinned, "Claire. That's exactly what I did."

"What? Well you didn't try too hard from what I can see."

I raised an eyebrow and sat up straight, "This was the best I could do. You should see me in all my finery!"

Now Claire was the one to raise an eyebrow, "Is that so? Well then, less talk and more action. If you're such a diva, let's see you in all this so-called finery."

I groaned, "Claire it's past eleven and I'm bushed, can't you wait 'til tomorrow?"

She shook her head, "No way bro....sister. Put up or shut up time."

I nodded, "Alright then. But don't say I didn't warn you. You may be shocked."

She smiled, "Do your worst."

----------*----------

I had taken my case to the spare room and undressed. I was determined to make her eat her words and I was going to give it my all despite my tiredness. I had pulled my corset on tight and slipped my breast forms into the cups of it. Putting on a stretchy black top and my black and white check miniskirt, sheer black stockings and my knee-high black leather boots made me feel strangely more comfortable. I applied my foundation, quick coat of mascara, a dab of eye shadow and rouge and a light coat of lipstick. I released my hair from its ponytail and brushed it out and added some hairspray for extra body. I removed the light flesh-pink nail varnish that had covered the deep red-brown nails underneath. I slipped on a necklace, bracelet and my rings. I popped my hoop earrings into the lower holes in my earlobes and simple studs into the upper holes. I looked in the mirror at my appearance and smiled. It was me again.

I tentatively opened the door and called down the stairs, "Are you ready Claire?"

She called back, "Anytime."

I slowly walked down the stairs and into the sitting room. She was slouched in the same chair but when she saw me she jumped to her feet and her mouth did that O-shaped fish impression thing. I put a hand on my hip, raised an eyebrow and gave her my best pout. I saw her go visibly pale and for a moment I worried that I had gone too far and that she would faint or something. But Claire was made of stronger stuff than that. She just looked at me and said nothing.

I felt uncomfortable, "Umm Claire, aren't you going to say anything?"

She took a deep breath and sat down in her chair again. I sat down opposite her, being careful to smooth my skirt underneath me. She noticed. I looked at her with concern, "Are you OK?"

She nodded slowly and croaked, "Yes." She nodded more resolutely, "Yes I'm fine. I'm just a little taken aback. I didn't expect you to be so... so..." Her voice trailed off.

"So?" I prompted.

She gave me a wan smile, "So beautiful." We sat in silence for a moment again before she continued, "I can't believe it. I really can't. I see what you mean now about having made an effort to soften the blow for me." She shook her head and grimaced.

"What's wrong Claire?"

"You! It's not good for my self esteem when my brother is prettier than I am!"

We both laughed and as we were exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally, we decided it was time for bed. I didn't think that somehow Claire totally accepted everything but there was something different now in her attitude to me. I think that having seen me fully as Cara she now understood, if not everything, at least a whole lot more than she had earlier.

----------*----------

The next morning, although I was tired from the previous day's stress and hadn't got into bed 'til after midnight, I woke early at around 7:30 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep. After ten minutes of lying in bed I decided to give up and got up. I guess it must have been habit, but I had this urge to go for a run. Beth would have been proud of me. I changed into my tracksuit, pulled my hair into a scrunchie and quietly let myself out of the house. It was a dull grey morning and it had been raining overnight. It threatened further rain and there were a few spittles of moisture in the air. It was Christmas Eve and all seemed quiet. I drew in a few lungfuls of the clear air and, after stretching and limbering up, set off for a brisk run. I didn't really know the area but after running down a few streets I came across a park. It was more of a recreation area but it was green, there were trees and an artificial lake. I ran a few circuits of the park and when my lungs started to burn, I turned and headed back to Claire's house hoping that I could remember the way. I could and did. On the way I called in at a home bakery that was just opening and bought some fresh croissants. Back at Claire's, I slipped into the house and all was still quiet. Claire didn't have to go to work today and showed no sign of getting up yet.

I hit the shower and revelled in the warm jets of water as they beat my body and massaged my pleasantly aching muscles. I was quite amazed at how good exercise actually made me feel. I felt healthy and more energised and resolved to keep it up now that I was away from Beth's persistent influence. After towelling and moisturising, I went back to my bedroom and sat on the bed as I tried to decide what to wear. I was going to see my parents today. My stomach churned.

I had decided that I was going as Cara, well Nicola and as my full feminine self. I wanted them to be in no doubt as to what I was doing and how well I was going to do it. I slipped on my gaff and panties and then wrapped my corset around me before pulling it in tighter and tighter. I popped the breast forms into the cups. I was going to be decent, but I wasn't going to hide who I had become. I eventually decided on a simple white blouse, a long narrow black pencil skirt which came down to mid calf, black pantyhose and my black suede boots. I applied a light coating of foundation and some subtle eye shadow, mascara, rouge and reddish-brown lipstick. I went with the hoops and studs in my ears again.

Although there was still no sound of any stirring from the direction of Claire's room, I had to dry my hair. After blow drying it and giving it some style, I was ready. I could now hear the sounds of movement from Claire's room so I decided to go downstairs and get breakfast under way. I had some porridge cooking in the microwave, some croissants heating under the grill and a fresh pot of coffee percolating. Claire came into the kitchen in her dressing gown and yawned.

"What time is it?" she murmured as she rubbed her eyes.

"Breakfast time," I said brightly, "which is about quarter to nine."

She looked at me and snorted, "You know I don't believe this. If I remember correctly, you rarely surface before lunchtime and look like you've been dragged through a hedge. You don't eat properly and don't look after yourself. But here you are looking fresh and beautiful, up early and cooking breakfast." She broke off and sniffed the air, "Do I smell croissants?"

I grinned, "Fresh from the bakery. I called in on the way back from my run."

"Your run?" she said incredulously. She shook her head, "You have totally changed haven't you?" She sat down at the table and I served us coffee, porridge and laid the plate of warm croissants down in the middle.

I grinned and winked, "I'm a new person."

She laughed and mused, "You know, I think you really are. Don't get me wrong. If I had my choice I'd have my brother Nick back here. I was sort of quite fond of him - probably since I'd known him for so many years." She looked at me seriously.

I paused with the spoon of porridge halfway to my mouth. "Claire," I said in a pained tone, "I'm still here. Yes I'm different, but what's inside is still the same person."

She raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps. But this is going to take some getting used to. I don't know what it is like to have a sister. This is weird Nicola."

I shrugged, "I know. It's weird even to me, but I know it's right. Doesn't mean I'm not adjusting too though."

We ate most of the rest of breakfast in silence. Not a particularly awkward or tense silence. Just peaceful. I sensed that there was something else eating Claire. She knew me well and I knew her well too and could tell when something was bothering her.

"OK, out with it, what's on your mind?"

Claire looked at me guiltily, "Look I know it's none of my business really, but I can't help wondering just how far you are going to go with this."

I had a right idea, but I asked anyway, "What do you mean?"

She looked really uncomfortable, "Well I was just wondering like, had you any plans for well...you know...surgery?"

I grinned, "Do you mean have I thought about getting my dick cut off?"

Claire looked shocked, which was the response I was fishing for, "Nic...ola!!"

I shrugged, "Well isn't that what you were asking?"

She blushed, "Well, perhaps...I guess. But not in those sorts of terms - word of advice, don't talk like that with Mum and Dad."

I nodded, "I know, I wouldn't. To answer your question, I haven't really given it much thought. Surgery is sort of scary. I'll address that maybe someday, but not now."

We refilled our coffee cups and carried them through to the sitting room and made ourselves comfortable. Claire still looked preoccupied, "Another thing Nicola?"

"Yes?"

"Well, what way are you...I mean, are you attracted to women or men?"

I paused and nodded. It was a fair question. I just wished I really knew the answer. I thought for a moment, "To be honest, Claire I don't really know. I'm sort of mixed up in that regard. Let me be clear, I was not gay, I didn't have any attraction to or thoughts of men before all this. I still find women attractive. I'm just not sure about how I feel about guys." My voice tailed off and I looked out the window. I was thinking about Paul.

She nodded and prompted softly, "Well why don't you tell me about him then?"

I snapped my gaze back to her. "Hey look - get out of my mind would you?" I forced a smile and tried to make a joke of it. As usual, she would not be deterred.

"Well come on, tell me," she persisted.

I sighed and over the next hour or so related the happenings of the last four weeks or so to her. I started from the beginning and worked my way through it telling her about almost everything that had taken place. I figured it was time to come clean and I should be open and honest with her. I needed all the friends I could get. I told her about Paul, the dancing, how I had enjoyed it. I told her about my confusion, him kissing me, meeting his parents and all. She was enthralled and drank in every word. Extremely unusually for Claire, she rarely interrupted but just let me tell the story. I told her about the meeting with Sony and going to see Dr. Carson. One thing I didn't tell her was the discussion I had had with Dr. Carson about getting breast implants. I wasn't ready to share that yet.

"Well, there we are," I said with a deep breath, "I guess that brings you up to speed."

Claire raised her eyebrows, "Quite a story. Are you planning on telling Mum and Dad all this?"

"No!" I replied emphatically, "Well not all of it. Not Paul, not the dancing. I'll tell them about Sony and the doctor after a day or two. Not at the start."

Claire nodded, and stretched, "Well, I think I can say I understand more. I just wish you had talked to me about it before now. Promise you won't keep me in the dark in future?"

I nodded, "I promise. I'm sorry Claire. But tell me, after all you've seen and heard now, with hindsight, had I told you about all this earlier, would you still have tried to talk me out of it?"

She screwed up her face and didn't seem to know what to say. "Umm, I don't know. I really don't. I mean I look at you now and you look so perfect, so well, so healthy and happy I guess. I don't know." She paused, "I'm still not overly thrilled about all this, but I guess I'm not totally opposed." She spread her hands, "That's all I can say right now."

I nodded and smiled, "That's more than I could have hoped for." I hesitated.

She noticed, "What is it Nicola?"

I smiled sheepishly, "When we get to Mum and Dad's today, will you....I mean would you mind..."

She interrupted and rolled her eyes, "Would I go in first and soften the blow and tell them what is going on?"

I nodded and smiled and she sighed, "Well I sort of expected it. Yes I will fill them in. But I'm not going to fight the whole battle for you. I'll give them the facts and then you'll have to face them, OK?"

"Thanks Claire. It's a real load off my mind now that you know everything."

She waved a hand at me, "Hey well what are sisters for? Now because of you I've got a hard task to face now."

I wrinkled my brow, "What's that?"

She grinned, "I've to go shower and dress and somehow try to make myself look somewhere near as good as my newfound sister."

We laughed.

----------*----------

CHAPTER 10

"Would you for goodness sake sit still and stop fidgeting," Claire chided, "you'll make me crash the car or something."

"Sorry," I apologised sheepishly, "I'm kind of nervous."

"Yeah well you're making me nervous too and I shouldn't have to feel nervous about this!"

"I know, sorry."

We were just passing Newport and were about halfway to Cardiff where my parents lived. Another 25 minutes or so and we would be there. I was more on edge than I think I had ever been in my life. I knew that this would not go well. There was no 'if' or 'maybe' about it. It would be bad. But I knew I had to face them. To be honest, I wasn't really fussed about what they would think of me. I was used to them being disappointed in me. Perhaps not openly, but I could sense it. But I was worried about the effect this would have on them. Claire was right, they would probably see it as some sort of parental failure on their part. I loved my parents to bits and was very appreciative of the way they had brought me up. Yes it had been strict, but they had taught me a high moral standard and given me a good foundation for life. I didn't think they would be able to reconcile that with what I was now doing though. Before we had left Claire's house, Claire had telephoned ahead to let them know we would be there around lunchtime. She also tried to give them a little heads up: she told them that I had something important to tell them, and that she was going to come in first to lay the foundation. Mum was extremely curious but Claire deflected her questions and said that all would be made clear later.

We pulled into my parent's street and Claire stopped the car at the end of the street. We were about 100 metres short of their house. We sat in silence for a moment. Claire looked at me and I think I must have looked exactly as I felt. Totally petrified. She smiled compassionately and reached across and gave me a hug, "Hey, this won't be easy, but we'll get through it."

I forced a smile, "I guess. Thanks Claire."

She shrugged, "Wish me luck."

I did just that and she got out and walked down to my parent's home. As I sat there, I think I felt as alone as I have ever known. I knew she would be inside by now and hugs and greetings would be over. I know Mum would have instantly started to pump her for information. Where was Nick? What was going on? What was this all about? I could only guess at how the conversation was going thereafter. The car was getting colder, but I didn't care. It helped to keep my mind focussed. After about 45 minutes I saw Claire trudge back up the street. She opened the door and plopped down into the driver's seat again. She exhaled slowly.

I looked at her expectantly and with a quaver in my voice asked, "Well?"

She shrugged, "As expected I guess. Not good."

I nodded and didn't know what else to say.

She squeezed my arm lightly, "They took it pretty bad. Dad's angry. He's not going to break things or anything. You know that's not his way, but he's stewing deep down. Mum's upset."

"Crying?" I asked.

She nodded, "A little."

I sighed. I just wanted to go, to get away from here. Anywhere but here. But I knew I had to face them. I couldn't keep running from this. "Do they want to see me?" I asked Claire.

She nodded, "Yes. They are going to try to talk you out of this. Talk some sense into you was how Dad put it."

I nodded again. "I'm not surprised. What did you tell them about what you thought?"

She shrugged, "I said I was shocked, initially felt the same as they did. But I told them that although I didn't necessarily agree with it, I could see your side of things. I tried to tell them to be open about it."

I laughed hollowly. My parents were good people, the best, but not very open to new ideas. "Well, now or never," I said with a grimace.

We got out of the car and walked slowly down the street. Claire took my hand and squeezed it tightly. I was so glad for her presence with me right now. I knew she wasn't totally sold on what I was doing, but it was a comfort to know she was trying to understand.

We arrived at the front door and let ourselves in. Mum and Dad were in the living room and I gingerly opened the door. They were sitting on the sofa facing the door. Waiting for us. Mum had red blotches on her cheeks and Dad looked downright irritable.

"Hi Mum, hi Dad," I said softly and stood in the doorway until Claire nudged me from behind. I stepped into the room a bit further. Dad looked closely at me and swallowed hard. Mum bit her lip as she took in my appearance. I stood there inside the room and looked at them as they looked back at me. No-one spoke for what seemed like an eternity but was probably more like a minute. Eventually my mother broke the silence. In a tremulous voice she said, "Nick son, come and sit down and let's talk."

I forced a little smile and sat down opposite them. Dad stared at me for a moment and then got up and began to pace up and down. This was quite familiar. I remembered him doing this when I was younger and had got into trouble. He would pace up and down keeping me sweating until he would remonstrate with me for whatever misdemeanour I had committed. He would never raise his voice excessively, his anger was always measured, but after sitting sweating while he paced up and down I was always ready to confess and apologise for anything - whether I had done it or not. I tried not to watch him and I focussed on my mother. I knew I had to say something, "Mum, I know this must come as a shock to you and I'm sorry to spring this on you like this, but I didn't think there would be any easy way to do this."

My father gave a little snort, but didn't say anything yet. His time would come. My mother looked exhausted. Her eyes were red and she was doing a seasonal impression of Rudolph the reindeer as her nose was just as red. "Nick," she said slowly shaking her head, "why?" A simple question. No simple answer.

I chewed my lower lip. "Mum, it's hard to explain. And I'm not sure you will really understand, but things just weren't right in my life. You know I was going nowhere, you know I wasn't really happy. This feels right. I feel happy." My voice gained some strength and enthusiasm, "I feel like I've got the spark back in my life, I've got direction and purpose. This is me."

My mother closed her eyes and again slowly shook her head, "Is this some kind of phase? Please tell me it's just a temporary reaction to your problems or something. We can get you some help, counselling perhaps?"

"No!" I said a little more emphatically than I had intended. My father stopped his pacing and fixed his eyes on me. "Sorry," I murmured in a more gentle tone, "But you have to understand. This is not a phase, it's not a fad, it's not a whim. Whatever else you don't or can't understand, please understand that I am perfectly serious. I have considered this fully, I have thought long and hard about this. This is not a game, a joke, whatever. This is real. This is it. This is me now. And if you can't accept me like this now, well I hope you will come to accept me because as much as I love you and I do love you dearly, I can't deny who I am. I know this must hurt you and please believe that it's the last thing I wanted and that's why I have held off from telling you this over the last few months. This is totally my choice and my decision. If you are wanting to blame someone for it, then place the blame at my door. I'm happy to accept that. This has nothing to do with anyone else, nothing to do with how I was brought up, it's no reflection on you both at all. This is me." I realised I had been monologuing for some time so I stopped and paused for breath. I smiled apologetically, "Sorry for going on, but I really had to get that off my chest. Go ahead now, whatever you want to say to me. I'm listening."

My mother shrugged, "I really don't know what to say. I just don't know why you are doing this...my only son..." Her voice broke and she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, "William, you talk to him."

My father stopped pacing and stood with his back to the mantelpiece, his hands behind his back. I sat there feeling very apprehensive and swallowed nervously. It was a moment before my father spoke. He was a man who measured his words carefully. He spoke in an even tone, "Nick, I'm not going to lie to you. I have had some disappointments in life and that's to be expected. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. But I can honestly say that I have never been as disappointed as I am right now." He paused and I felt like I had been hit in the pit of my stomach. A child always craves the approval of a parent. And probably particularly from their father. A mother's love always sweetens any disapproval that she gives. I was expecting this, but it hurt all the same.

He proceeded to give me a sermon-like monologue detailing his disappointment and disapproval. He laid out point after point of reasons why what I was doing was wrong: morally, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally and more. I had expected it, but it was so hard to listen to. He did it all without raising his voice. I think if he had raised his voice and shouted at me it would have been easier to take as I could have rationalised it as the ranting of anger. But with my father it was always even and measured, spoken out of love and that made it all the harder to take. He continued on and on, and I began to feel the emotion welling up from deep down inside me. I tried to suppress it, but I couldn't. It bubbled up, until I could contain it no longer. A solitary tear trickled down my cheek. Another followed, then another until I was weeping freely. My father stopped. He looked uncomfortable and began to pace again. "I'm sorry Dad," I murmured as I rubbed my eyes with the tissue Claire handed to me.

My mother came over to me and put her arms around me. "Nick, you know we love you and that doesn't stop no matter what you do. We care about you and are concerned about you, you know that don't you?"

I nodded and through a few teary gasps replied, "I know...I know...and I'm so sorry for hurting you." I swallowed and tried to regain my composure. I dried my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I squeezed my mother's arm. "Mum, Dad, I love you both so much. And your opinions matter a lot to me. I've always respected your advice and I've always been thankful for the upbringing you gave me. You taught me how to be a decent and respectful human being and what you have taught me will stay with me until I die. It is part of who I am. I've listened to what you have to say, but I have to tell you that I'm determined to be who I am. I'm sorry if it pains you, but I'm not going to deny myself just to please you. I don't mean that to sound harsh and maybe I am selfish. But I know who I am and to deny that would be to deny what you have taught me." I looked up at my father, "Dad you always told me to be respectful of others' opinions but to have the courage of my own convictions and to stand up for them. I'm going to have to do that now and ask you to respect my opinions and my decision. I don't mean to sound stubborn, but there is nothing you can say that will change my mind on this. I know that this doesn't mean that everything is fine and rosy, but what I want to know is - how can we move on from here?" I paused and softly repeated the words I had said several times already that afternoon, "This is me."

My father sighed and slowly walked out of the room. I heard the front door close and he walked down the front path. Claire jumped to her feet, "I'm going to go walk with him."

"Are you sure that's wise honey?" Mum asked.

Claire shrugged, "I don't know, but we have to sort ourselves out somehow." She exited and ran after him. Mum and I sat there, her arm around my shoulder. I murmured, "I'm sorry Mum."

She sighed, "Darling, in most things you take after me, but in one thing you take after your father - stubbornness. Your mind is made up on this isn't it?"

I nodded, "Yes, it is."

She nodded, "I can see that. I don't approve and I'm not sure I ever will. But you are my child and I love you. That will not change. This is your family home and no matter what anyone ever says, you will always be welcome here. I don't know how we are going to go on from here."

We sat in silence for several minutes before I spoke again, "I'm bushed Mum, can I unpack and have a bit of a rest?"

"Sure honey," she replied.

I stood, stretched and then hesitated, "And you and Dad can, well, talk when he gets back. Talk about where we go from here Mum because this is me from now on."

She looked up at me imploringly, "Won't you think about this Nick? Reconsider? Give it a little more thought?"

I shook my head, "Mum I'm sorry, I've worked my through this over the last few weeks and I'm certain about this. Think about it, do you think there is any way I'd show up here today like this if I wasn't certain?"

I think that struck a chord with her as the implication of my words sunk in. She sighed and slowly nodded, "I guess not."

I picked up my bag and headed for the door. Before I left the room, she called out, "Nick?"

I turned, "Yes?"

"Don't get me wrong honey, I'm not saying I approve. But well...you look...very pretty."

I smiled, "Thanks Mum." I left quickly before I burst into tears again. I went upstairs into my room, dumped my bag on the floor and looked at myself in the mirror. "You look a mess," I murmured to myself. I slipped my boots off and lay down on the bed. I was sure that my mind would be spinning too much to really rest. But I think I was asleep before it had completed even one revolution.

----------*----------

When I awoke, it was dark in the room and I was mildly disorientated for a few moments. I realised where I was and the events of the day came flooding back into my mind. I sat up, stretched and switched on the bedside lamp. I winced as the light hurt my sensitive sleepy eyes. I checked the bedside clock, it was a quarter to five. Closing the curtains, I sat down at the dressing table and grimaced at the clown-like makeup-streaked visage that looked back at me. I did some unpacking and set to repairing my face. When I was satisfied, and after making my hair look more presentable, I decided to go back downstairs. As much as I wanted to hide in my room and hope the world would right itself without me, I knew I had to go back for round two.

I descended the stairs slowly and heard voices coming from the kitchen. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I paused and listened. I heard my father sounding exasperated, "Honestly Esther are you saying we should accept this? I really can't believe that."

She replied, "No Bill, I'm not saying that I'm accepting it. All I'm saying is that I don't think Nick is going to change his mind no matter what we do or say. You know what he is like when he gets an idea into his head."

My sister interjected, "I think she's right Dad."

"You keep out of it miss," my father replied with irritation in his voice, "I just can't believe that my only son is walking around like a fairy."

That was it. I couldn't help myself. I strode forwards and pushed open the door a little more forcefully than I really intended. Three pairs of eyes turned to look at me. I didn't care. I looked at my father. "Walking around like a fairy? Is that what you think Dad? Well let me make myself clear in case the message didn't get across earlier. You don't have a son. So your son can't walk around like a fairy. I am a woman and if you would open your eyes and look at me surely even you would have to admit that."

He fixed his eyes on me and his infuriatingly measured tone replied, "Don't take that tone of voice with me young la....young man." We all knew what he had been about to say. It was an often heard phrase in our house in days gone by when Dad and Claire were having a confrontation over something or other. Usually the latest party or boyfriend or the like. I was thankful that the seriousness of the situation prevented me from having any desire to smirk. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Claire giving in to such desire until my mother tapped her on the hand and almost imperceptibly shook her head. I don't think my father noticed though, he was focussed totally on me as he continued, "I have a son, and that is you Nicholas James Evans. And why my son feels he has to dress up like some sissy or other is totally beyond me."

I bristled. "You do NOT have a son any longer. You have a daughter. I am Nicola..." quick thinking, "Nicola Jane Evans. I am your daughter, I am a woman. Look at me. No seriously really look at me. Do I look like a man by any stretch of the imagination?"

He looked at me long and hard. "That's exactly it. You look nothing like a man at all. A real man wouldn't be caught dead looking and acting like you are."

I paused and let the words be heard. I simply nodded and softly said, "My point exactly."

His shoulders fell a little and suddenly I realised that my father looked old. I mean yes I knew he was nearly sixty, but you never think of your parents as old. Suddenly I felt a pang of guilt, I felt remorse. Not for what I was doing, but for the difficulties it was causing my parents. Instinctively I walked over to my father and hugged him. His body tensed and I don't think he knew what to do. Eventually he just sort of patted my back gently. I broke the hug and stepped back a little. In a soft voice I apologised, "I'm sorry Dad. I really don't want to hurt you and Mum or anyone else. But I have to be true to myself. As much as you may hate me for it, I have to do this."

He looked at me with an intensity I have rarely seen and with a little tremor in his voice replied, "Don't ever ever say that. I do not and will not ever hate a child of mine no matter what they do. A parent's love is unconditional love. Nick, I know I don't often say it, but I will say this now so that there is no doubt. I love you son, and that will not change."

I nodded, "I'm sorry Dad. I shouldn't have said that."

There was an awkward pause which my ever sensitive mother stepped in to end, "Why don't you both sit down at the table here with Claire and me and I'll brew a fresh pot of tea and we can talk more."

I wanted to run, I wanted to get away, I wanted to be anywhere but here. But I knew that here was where I had to be. We had to do this. We sat with our mugs of tea and I didn't know what we were going to say. My father didn't look like he was going to add anything more for the moment and Claire was wisely keeping silent. She gently squeezed my knee under the table though. It was left to my mother to get the ball rolling again. She cleared her throat and spoke, "Alright. We have to sort some things out. Nick, I believe you are serious about what you are doing and you seem to have little intention of reconsidering. I can't claim to understand and won't pretend to like it, you know our feelings but you are an adult and we have to respect your decision. Isn't that right Bill?"

My father looked at her without speaking and she prompted, "Bill?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Yes." He didn't look at all happy though.

My mother looked back to me, "Nick I want you to accept our strong feelings on this matter and I want you to acknowledge that you understand how opposed we are to this."

I swallowed and nodded, "OK, I understand. I accept your position."

She nodded, "Now what do you want from us?"

I thought for a moment and picked my words carefully, "I want you to call me Nicola, refer to me as she and her. I want you to call me your daughter." I paused, but I knew I had to say more, "But I don't want you to talk about me as your son who is having a sex change or anything like that."

Both my parents pricked up their antennae at that one as I knew they would. My mother was now acting as spokesperson, "Why? Are you ashamed of what you are doing?"

I shook my head, "Not at all. It is complicated and I am going to leave that until tomorrow to explain. What about the other things I said?"

My mother looked at my father and he shrugged as if to say 'what the heck'. She looked back at me, "Understand, we are doing this not because we condone what you are doing or accept it in the slightest. We will call you Nicola and refer to you as you have requested out of respect for you and your choices. I am sure we are going to get it wrong without thinking at times though and you will have to accept that."

I nodded, "Thanks Mum, thanks Dad." My father wouldn't look at me.

"Now I want all of you out of my kitchen as I'm going to make some dinner for us all. And we are going to sit down to dinner as a family and enjoy it."

I doubted the latter and I'm sure my father did too. But we all knew better than to argue with my mother on this point. My father headed to his study and Claire and I went into the living room. I flopped down on the sofa and Claire sat down beside me. She flicked on the TV and we sat and watched it in silence for several minutes. 'Miracle on 34th street.' Typical Christmas mushy film where everything ended happily. Cynically and inwardly I snorted to myself.

"You OK?" Claire murmured quietly.

I nodded, "I guess."

"It's rough," she stated.

"Yes. How could it be anything other?" I paused, "Do you think the worst is over?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. Probably not, to be honest."

I nodded and sighed, "You're probably right."

We watched on in silence until my mother called us all back into the kitchen for dinner. We sat and ate and my mother conducted the conversation. She asked Claire about her job and Claire talked. Claire asked Dad about his work and he replied. I was grateful not to be the centre of attention for a little while. The conversation was sort of forced. As if we were all pretending everything was normal.

Mum and I ended up doing the washing up and Claire and Dad went back into the living room. "Nic-ola," she began tentatively.

"Yes Mum?" I replied with my arms up to my elbows in soapy suds.

"I was just wondering what you thought we should do about Boxing Day. I mean tomorrow, Christmas Day, it's just us as usual."

Boxing Day was a family tradition where Mum hosted our relatives. Mum had a brother and a sister. Uncle George was unmarried. Aunt Vera and Uncle Keith and our two cousins Phil and Dawn were coming as far as I knew. And on Dad's side there was his sister Aunt Olivia married to Uncle Edward. They had a son Ian who was living and working in Australia.

"Who all is coming?" I asked.

"Well the usual. Vera, Keith and the kids. George should be here and Olivia and Edward will be too."

I nodded, "Sounds fine."

"Erm, but, what about with, well you..." her voice trailed off.

I turned and smiled at her, "Mum, I am who I am. This is me and I guess they deserve the opportunity to meet the new me."

She looked at me unsurely and nodded slowly, "Alright dear, if you are sure."

I knew what she was thinking and spoke gently, "Mum, I know you are thinking that perhaps if you keep this under wraps for a while, I'll get over this fad or whatever and no-one will need to know. It's not like that. They need to know because this is the way it's going to be."

She sighed and nodded, "Alright Nicola. But I'm not sure how they will all react."

I wasn't sure either. Claire and I were pretty close to Phil and Dawn. They were non-identical twins and just over a year younger than me. Dawn was studying maths at Nottingham University and Phil was on an electronic engineering course at Aberystwyth University. Phil and I always got on very well. I figured they'd be shocked but probably accept it better than the 'grown ups'. George probably wouldn't care. He was a bachelor, an investment broker and if it didn't affect his portfolio, it wouldn't fuss him. My other aunts and uncles were fairly traditional and quite similar in outlook to my own parents. I imagined they would be definitely shocked, probably disapproving but more than anything glad it wasn't one of their children causing such an outrage. I didn't really care. They had to know and I was going to have to talk to them carefully about what they said about me. I sighed as I helped Mum put the last of the saucepans away. It felt like the world was resting on my shoulders. It was a far cry from the happy, free days at Silsbury Manor. Yet I knew what I was doing was right.

Mum and I went into the living room and I made my apologies about being tired and going to get an early night. Claire smiled and got up to give me a little hug. Dad barely acknowledged my departure.

I wasn't pretending. I was truly exhausted and I don't think I was ever so glad to fall into bed as I was then. In the precious few seconds before I went to sleep, I remembered back to Christmas Eve's when I was much younger and how hard it was to get to sleep with the anticipation and the excitement. It wasn't a problem this year.

----------*----------

As I had gone to bed in good time the night before, I woke around 7 a.m. feeling quite refreshed. I had a clear head and sat on the edge of the bed and felt pretty good. That is until I remembered the stress and trials of the previous day. Today was Christmas Day. Peace and goodwill to all men - except those men who are perverting nature by turning into women. I shook my head and tried to clear it of such cynicism as it was unlikely to help the situation or make the next few days any easier. I peeped through my curtains and the weather certainly seemed to match my mood. It was dark and pouring down out of the heavens. Nonetheless, I decided to brave the elements and go for a run. That's the thing about a habit: unless you come up with a good reason not to do it, it sort of comes automatically. Which is fine if it is a good habit. I pulled on my tracksuit and running shoes, scraped my hair back into a ponytail, added a baseball cap and quietly crept down the stairs to let myself out the front door.

The day outside was no better in reality compared to how it had appeared from the comfort of my cosy bedroom. The driving wind blasted the icy raindrops into my face as I set off running down the street. It was truly miserable. I loved it. It was wild and the untamed elements of nature gave me a certain feeling of freedom. I funnelled all the negative energy and feelings from the previous day into adrenaline-charged exercise. The harder the wind blew, the faster I ran. Needless to say, I had the roads to myself. There were a few lights on in the houses I ran past. No doubt young kids pulling their parents out of bed to see what Santa had left them. I sort of envied their innocence and wide-eyed awe of youth.

After about 15 minutes I turned around and now the wind was at my back. It was exhilarating. I ran faster and faster and felt like I was going to take off. I arrived back outside my parents' house and sat on the doorstep in the biting wind and rain as I gasped for breath. Although my chest felt raw and my muscles were aching from overdoing it, the post-exercise endorphin haze soon replaced the discomfort. I slipped back inside the house and thought I would get a drink of water from the kitchen before hitting the shower.

"Oh my goodness!" I exclaimed as I opened the kitchen door to find myself face to face with my mother. "You scared me!" I accused.

She looked equally as startled and replied, "Well you nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you doing up so early." She noticed that I was dripping and immediately switched into concerned mother mode, "Nick...Nicola...you are soaking wet? What have you been doing? Have you been outside? Are you alright?"

I laughed and held up my hands, "I'm OK. I was just out for a run."

"A run?" she said incredulously, "You? Running? On Christmas Day? And on a morning like that? Are you ill?"

She looked at me as if she certainly thought I was deranged. I grinned and shrugged, "It's a pattern I've got into. I know I was a bit of a lazy slob before, but things are different now. I'm really quite fit."

She nodded and looked me up and down. My wet tracksuit was clinging to my figure. With a hint of a sigh she said, "Yes so I can see, you've got quite a figure."

I blushed a little and didn't quite know what to say. "Uhh thanks Mum. And why are you up so early?"

She shrugged, "Well someone has to get the turkey into the oven." She paused, "Plus I didn't sleep too well and woke very early."

I nodded and winced a little, "Sorry Mum. My fault I guess."

She waved a hand at me, "Now sit down with me for a moment and have a quick cup of tea with me before you go and get changed."

I did as she told me and was grateful for the warmth afforded by the hot cup of tea. My mother sat across the table from me and I became aware that she was staring intently at me. I met her gaze, "What is it?"

She looked away and shook her head. "Oh I don't know. You just look so different." She stopped talking and seemed to be very interested in looking at the contents of her mug.

I probed gently, "In what way different."

For a moment it was as if she hadn't heard me as she didn't reply. Then after another sip of her tea she looked at me again, "It pains me to say it, but you look really well. You look radiant. Better fed and healthier than you have appeared in a long time." She paused, "And as I said yesterday, you do look very pretty." Another hesitation and then with a kind of wistful angst, "When I look at you, it's as if I'm looking at myself 30 years ago."

I only realised it then, but she was right. My sister Claire had my father's high forehead and prominent nose and it was always said that she looked like my father. But me? I had never thought that I particularly resembled either of my parents. Now though I bore a striking resemblance to my mother. Her now greying hair had in her younger days been full-bodied, glossy black - just like mine. Facially, there would be no mistaking us for mother and daughter.

I spoke hesitantly, "I know this must be hard for you Mum."

She sighed, "I don't know what to think. When I look at you, you look so much like my daughter...but...I miss my son...my little boy."

I could see moisture gathering in her eyes. I swallowed hard to prevent myself from succumbing to a similar fate. I replied quietly, "I know. It's still strange to me. But give me a chance. You'll get used to it, no?"

She wiped her eyes and regained control, "I don't know." She smiled wanly, "Darling, your father and I were talking last night..."

I sighed and tried to interrupt, "Mum, we've been through all..."

She cut me off, "Now hear me out. We were talking and we felt that if you were intent on doing...'this', well we think you should talk to a doctor about it."

I nodded, "Mum, I have seen a doctor about it."

She look taken aback, "You have?" I nodded and she went on, "Well, what sort of doctor?"

"She's an endocrinologist who has a specialist interest in gender dysphoria."

She blinked a few times, "And well, did she talk about whether you should be doing all this or is she just accepting it all?"

"She interviewed me thoroughly. Really detailed. All about my past, my thoughts, feelings, everything."

"And?" my mother asked.

I shrugged, "She feels that the path I'm pursuing is correct."

My mother's shoulders sagged. She looked at me, "Nick...Nicola, tell me, are you on, I mean are you taking..."

I knew what she was asking, "Am I taking hormones? Yes Mum I am."

She visibly paled, "And have they had any effect?"

I nodded and replied matter-of-factly, "Yes they have."

She bit her lip and we sat in silence for a few minutes. She looked me in the eye again, "Have you, or are you...well thinking about," she screwed her face up, "...surgery?"

I ran a hand through my wet hair and sighed, "Mum I don't know yet. It might be something I think about, it probably will be. But just not yet."

She didn't look too reassured. I shivered, "I think I had better go and get showered. I'm wet and cold."

She nodded absentmindedly and remained seated there as I got up and left. As I went up the stairs I let out a long, slow breath. The day was likely to have more difficult conversations and I knew I still had to tell them about Cara Malone and her plans. But for a few moments at least, the piping hot water of the shower was a welcome distraction.

----------*----------

I had dressed in my conservative grey jacket and below-knee skirt with a simple white blouse. A little subtle make up and flat black court shoes. I thought that the others were probably up out of bed now as there was more noise about the house. I went down for breakfast and found the three of them seated around the kitchen table. Predictably the conversation stopped as soon as I entered the room. I pretended not to notice and forced myself to smile, "Morning Dad, Claire." I sat down in the remaining chair and poured myself a bowl of muesli. Claire was in her dressing gown and she looked me up and down, "You're dressed up pretty smart today. What's the occasion?"

With my spoon of cereal halfway to my mouth, I shrugged and replied, "It's Christmas Day, don't we always go to Church on Christmas Day?"

Claire raised her eyebrows and I knew what she was thinking, but she tactfully didn't say anything. She knew she didn't have to as my father found his voice.

He looked at me over his glasses, "You are planning on going to Church?"

I nodded as I munched, "Yes."

"Like that?" he asked.

"Like what?" I retorted.

He gestured to me, "Well dressed...like that."

I looked down at myself, "What's wrong with my outfit? Is it not suitable for Church?"

He looked at me through narrowed eyes, "You know what I mean."

Unfortunately for my father, I was a product of my upbringing and knew all the right phrases and lines to say. I set my spoon down, "Dad, surely you are not saying that I wouldn't be welcome at Church? Would you have them turn me away? I wouldn't have thought that you would bar anyone from coming into the house of God to worship."

My father looked away and winced a little. I knew I had him and I felt slightly guilty but I knew I had to make my point. He sighed and looked back at me, "Do you think it is appropriate for you to come into the presence of God living this lie of yours? This mockery and charade?"

I made myself look shocked, "So you are saying that liars and sinners are not welcome in Church? But Dad, you always taught us that we don't come to God in our own righteousness. Didn't the Lord come to save the sinners not the righteous? And surely although man looks on the outward appearance, God looks on the heart."

Claire couldn't resist making the comment, she giggled, "Oh and 'Man' will certainly be taking a good long look at the outward appearance."

My father shot Claire a warning glance and my mother remonstrated, "Claire, please - you are not helping."

I tried not to smile. I didn't want to appear cheeky. My father knew he was beaten, "Alright. Fine. Come to Church then. But pray tell, what are we going to say about you? What do we tell people?"

I shrugged, "I've never been to your Church before; introduce them to your daughter. I mean you've only moved to this Church a month or two ago so how many people think you have a son?"

My parents looked at each other and Mum shrugged. Dad looked like he was thinking hard before he replied, "Alright, certainly we haven't got to know anyone too well, but I'm sure we may have told some people that we have a daughter and a son."

I nodded, "I doubt they'll remember and when they meet Claire and me, they'll imagine they took you up wrong."

I knew what was coming, as my father saw his opening, "Oh so you want us to lie do you?"

I was ready for this, "Not at all. Introducing me as your daughter will be the truth. That's who I am. Truth and reality are more than genes, molecules and body organs."

There was silence for a few moments as we continued to eat our breakfast. My mother looked at my father and murmured, "Bill, what will we do?"

He grimaced, "I don't know. What choice do we have? Looking at..." he hesitated and with some resignation continued, "...looking at...her...there's no way we can say...she...is anything other than our daughter."

We all stared at my father. I sensed that this was an important moment. Almost imperceptibly something had changed. It wasn't that suddenly I was accepted or that what I was doing was welcomed. But it was more like a resignation on my father's part that this was happening. An acknowledgement of what I was doing. I didn't kid myself that things were all warm and fuzzy now. Not by a long shot. But, slow as it may be, I felt this was progress.

I smiled at my parents and softly and humbly, without any trace of anything that could be construed as gloating, simply said, "Thanks Dad, thanks Mum. I know this must be very hard for you."

----------*----------

Llandaff North Methodist Church was a 5 minute drive from my parents' home and we all travelled in their car. As we walked into the Church, we were greeted at the door, by a cheery red-faced man. "Merry Christmas Bill and Esther," he looked at Claire and me, "I presume these are your lovely daughters?"

My Dad looked a little awkward, "Uhh yes, yes they are. This is Claire, and this is...Nicola. Umm girls, this is Mervyn Stewart."

He shook our hands enthusiastically, "Pleased to meet you girls." He turned to my parents, "You have two beautiful daughters, and I guess you're delighted to have the family home for Christmas?"

My mother sensed that my father was floundering a little and stepped in, "Of course Mervyn, it wouldn't be Christmas without them." We went on in and sat down. A few other people from the Church came up and chatted to Mum and Dad and there were more introductions. I don't think my father found it easy, but I hoped that each time he called me his daughter or referred to me as Nicola, it would get a little easier.

The service was short and simple. A series of Bible readings interspersed with traditional carols. I think my mother was a little worried as the first carol started. She nudged me and whispered, "Are you sure you should sing? Can you sing, you know...as a girl?" Claire heard this also and stifled a little giggle which drew a frown from my mother. I simply smiled and assured her it would be alright. I think she was shocked when she actually heard me sing. I had always loved Christmas carols, they were uplifting, inspiring and I actually found it quite an emotional experience. One of the things I had always particularly enjoyed about Christmas carols was the descant versions. Wonderful wide-ranging harmonies. Of course, until now I was only ever able to listen to them. This time I could join in the singing of them. As I revelled in the glorious melody of the descant to 'O come all ye faithful', I became aware of my father looking at me. I glanced at him with a little uncertainty as I continued to sing. He looked puzzled, but didn't actually look disapproving at this moment. I smiled and he sort of half returned the smile before looking back to his hymn sheet.

At the end of the service we dutifully filed out of the church towards the front door where the minister shook each person's hand. It came to my parents' turn and he smiled as he shook their hands, "Bill, Esther - great to see you, have a great Christmas. And are these two young ladies with you?"

My father smiled a nervous looking smile, "Err yes, these are...my two daughters. Reverend Patterson, meet Claire and...Nicola."

He smiled and shook our hands, "Delighted to meet you Claire and Nicola." He then frowned a little and turned back to my father, "You know I have the strangest recollection that you told me you had a son and a daughter."

My heart almost stopped and I just about heard a very soft sharp intake of breath from Claire behind me. My mother seemed to stiffen a little and all of our eyes focussed on my father. He paused for a moment and frowned. My heart was in my mouth as I waited for him to reply. He shrugged and shook his head, "Well unless your eyes are deceiving you, I've got two beautiful daughters."

Reverend Patterson paused for a moment then smiled as he looked at us, "There's no denying that." He shook his head and rolled his eyes, "I guess I'm starting to lose it."

My father laughed a little and we all headed out to the car park. I walked alongside my father. "Thanks Dad," I murmured as I looked up at him. He looked down at me and gave a faint smile, "I just told the truth. He just didn't realise that his eyes were deceiving him."

I grinned, "Perhaps. But thanks anyway."

----------*----------

When we got home, there was a lot of bustling to get Christmas dinner ready. Normally Mum and Claire would work together to serve it whilst Dad and I chatted in the living room. This year it was different though. My mother called me into the kitchen and gave me various jobs to do. I rationalised that it was more likely she was trying to occupy me and prevent me and my father having a conversation together that would spoil our dinner, than the possibility that she was treating me more like a daughter than a son. Either way, I was happy enough to help.

Christmas dinner was actually quite enjoyable. The food was bountiful and delicious. I actually wished I had had the foresight to remove my corset before dinner as I was restricted in the amount I was able to eat. This was probably a good thing though. I had a picture of Beth in my mind waggling a finger and chiding me for trying to undo all the good work we had done together. The conversation wasn't too awkward or stilted and I actually felt comfortable enough to take part.

"The service was really moving, wasn't it?" I said.

My father nodded, "It was. Simple and straightforward - just the way I like it. The word - in scripture and in song." He paused and then looked back at me, "Where did you learn to sing like that?"

I shrugged, "Sing like what? I'm a singer remember?"

He looked at me ponderously then gently shook his head, and in a strange tone which was a mixture of reticence and something approaching pride he said, "You sounded like an angel."

An awkward pause followed and I knew I was blushing, "Umm thanks Dad."

We all chatted away over the rest of dinner and dessert. We laughed as we shared reminiscences of previous Christmases when we were young. For the first time since coming to face my parents, I actually felt glad to be home. I had been dreading these days for the last number of weeks. I realised the real meaning of the phrase that blood is thicker than water. No matter the difficulties, no matter the trials, if a family is a good family then it deals with them. I knew that it was right that I had come to face them and share with them what I was doing. I also knew that I had to tell them more.

Once the dishes were all safely stowed in the dishwasher and everything else cleared away, we sat down for the traditional 3 o'clock Queen's speech to the Commonwealth. When it was finished, we unanimously decided that we did not want to watch the umpteenth showing of 'The Great Escape' so the television was turned off. After a few moments silence, I cleared my throat and spoke, "Umm, Mum and Dad. I've a few other things to tell you..."

My father chose this moment to display one of his rare flashes of dry humour, "Oh my goodness, may the Lord preserve me, what more can he...err...she...say to make her poor father lose the rest of his already thinning hair."

We laughed, and I tried again. "Well, I think this won't be too much in comparison to what I've already laid on you."

Claire butted in, "I don't know about you, but I can't think of anything at all in the world that would be a bigger deal than what you've already hit us with."

I stuck my tongue out at her and she replied in kind. My mother sighed, "Girls! That was not the way you were brought up." She realised how reflexively she had just addressed us and looked a bit shocked at this herself.

Third time lucky, "No seriously, let me speak." I looked around and I had their undivided attention. "I wanted to fill you in on what I plan to do from here on."

My father looked puzzled, "In what regard?"

"With regards to like you know, a job."

He raised a hand to his chest, "What? A job? Esther do you hear that? I have just about got over the shock that she's turning into a woman - but getting a job? This is too much."

I sighed, "What has got into you all today? Did someone spike the apple juice at lunchtime or something? Now enough! Quiet and listen, this is important." I looked around, daring anyone to make a wisecrack. No-one did. "Well, I know you've all thought I was wasting my time with my music and you all thought I should get a 'proper job'."

My mother tried to interrupt, "No dear, it's not like..."

"Shush!" I said imperiously raising a hand before continuing, "I know what you all thought. But I don't mind. Because, I have some good news. You are looking at the latest singer/songwriter to be signed up for a record deal with Sony music."

I smiled and looked around as that sunk in. I could see my mother and father processing this. I knew what was coming. My mother spoke first, "Well, that's great dear. But tell me, who is it that has got the deal, if you know what I mean."

I nodded, "Well actually it's Cara Malone who has got the deal."

"Cara who?" my father asked.

"Cara Malone," I repeated, "That's going to be my sort of stage name if you follow me. Nicola Evans is a lovely name, but it's not got quite the right ring to it."

My mother spoke slowly, "You've got a record deal as a woman. How come? You've been trying to get a deal for years and years with no luck. Now you are a woman and suddenly you get a deal? Why?"

Claire piped up, "Show them Nicola, or Cara. I think that's the easiest way."

I nodded slowly, "Yes, you're probably right for once sister of mine."

She gave me a mock scowl which I ignored as I got up and walked over to the upright piano in the corner of the living room. As I sat down, I lifted the lid and let my hand fondly stroke the sun-faded wood. This had been the piano that I had learnt to play on as a child and anytime I played it, I was always overcome with a rush of nostalgia. It was slightly out of tune and far from having a good action, but to be honest when I played it, it felt better to me than a Steinway - well almost. I gathered myself and launched into 'I just wanna be me.'

"Feelin' the weight of others' expectations, Pushing me down, pressing around me, Building into disappointments, anger and frustrations, Why oh why can't they understand and see.

I don't wanna be somebody elses' puppet, Don't wanna have to say yes and always agree, You're squeezing me, smothering me - why don't you just stop it Cos I just wanna be me. I'm dreamin' my own dreams, not fulfilling yours, I'm throwing off the bonds, I'm gonna be free, I'm releasing my true spirit, a spirit that endures Cos I just wanna be me."

I finished playing and swivelled round on the piano stool to face them. I felt strangely nervous. Like a child who has played their first recital and needs to seek their parents' praise. My mother raised an eyebrow, "Well I guess that answers my question. My musical tastes are quite different to yours, but I think I can appreciate the difference between what I've just heard and what I've heard in the past."

I smiled shyly and returned to my seat. I looked over at my father, "Dad? What did you think?"

He sighed and replied hesitantly, "There is no denying that you are exceptionally talented. I'm sure that the people who signed you recognised that and combining that with how you look, I imagine you are just what they are looking for."

I reckoned that was as close to open praise from my father as I was going to get right now. But I needed to tell them more, so I went on, "If you think about it, if I'm going to pursue a career as Cara Malone, it's fine if people think Cara Malone used to be Nicola Evans. It's not so good for reputation and sales if people find out Cara Malone used to be Nicholas Evans."

My mother interjected, "The people at Sony have no idea about this then."

"No," I replied, "In fact, the only people who know outside of this room are my doctor, Julie Carstairs and her sister Beth."

My father wrinkled his brow, "How on earth have you kept this a secret? It's just, as I look at you now, I doubt you've been able to hide the changes you've been going through."

Just as I had had to do with Claire, I talked them through the previous weeks and all the preparations before leaving London and then how we moved down to Silsbury Manor. I completely omitted anything about the dancing classes and Paul. I shared a knowing look with Claire and I think she understood that it was not to be mentioned as she gave me a surreptitious little nod. In the way that I told it, I skewed the emphasis though to make it seem as if I had begun my journey into womanhood before I discovered my new singing ability with the potential opportunities it offered. I did feel a twinge of guilt about this, but as I had readjusted my own priorities in my mind over the last few weeks, I rationalised my guilt away. I did my best to answer the various questions my parents asked. There was a change in the emphasis of our discussions now. Whereas yesterday things had been confrontational, today it was more of resigned acceptance and the seeking of more information. I knew that deep down they still did not approve, but at least they seemed to have stopped trying to talk me out of it.

----------*----------

"Oh my goodness!" Claire exclaimed.

"What?" said three voices in almost unison.

"I don't believe it!" she said, "With all this talking, we've forgotten the real centre of Christmas - the giving of presents."

My mother tutted disapprovingly at her, but we all knew Claire was just being facetious. She was right though. We had forgotten. So without further ado, we all got up and extracted our various presents from where we had stashed them and we reassembled in the living room. I gave mine out first. I'd bought Claire a white silk blouse and a long black cashmere cardigan. She whooped with delight, "I've often wondered what it would be like to have a sister who could buy me tasteful presents like this. Why did you never buy me things like this before?" She held the blouse up to the mirror and nodded appreciatively.

I laughed, "I guess I didn't have the appreciation of female clothing that I've recently developed. Now Mum, this is for you."

She opened her present, and murmured, "Oh darling, it's beautiful." It was a hand-crafted wooden jewellery box. "I'm very impressed," she said.

I shrugged, "To be honest, I did have help picking your presents. Jools and Beth helped me out. Now Dad, for you."

He gave me a half-smile as he took it from me. I had got him a CD of Charles Wesley's most famous Methodist hymns and a book about the history of the South Wales mining industry. Now that may not sound particularly exciting, but I knew my father and his less-than-mainstream interests well. "Thank you, thank you," he said as he looked at the book with interest. Claire gave her presents out next. She had got the latest Delia Smith cookery book for my mother and some expensive moisturiser cream. Both were well received. A shirt and tie set met with approval from my father. My turn. She grinned at me as she handed me my present. I eagerly ripped the paper off.

"Oh great - thanks Claire," I said sincerely, "excellent!" She had got me the U2 Elevation concert on DVD and the new Avril Lavigne CD. My sister knew me well. Buy music related presents and you were bound to score highly in my books. She also knew my music tastes well. I had been a huge U2 fan for several years. The Avril Lavigne CD was an inspired choice. I had been thinking of getting it as the rocky almost-punk style of the singles I had heard so far had appealed to me.

My mother gave Claire her present. It was a smart black jacket with matching skirt. "Great," said Claire, "I was needing something fresh for work, this is lovely."

As my mother handed me her present, she suddenly raised her hand to her mouth, "Oh dear."

I tentatively took the present from her and asked, "What is it?"

She sighed, "Well I've just remembered what I've bought you and to be honest, I'm not sure it's quite appropriate now. Maybe you should give it back, and I'll get you something else dear."

I was intrigued now, "Let me be the judge of that." I opened it up and inside was a casual checked shirt and a smart pair of black denim jeans. Very nice, but it was male clothing. "Ahh," I murmured, "I think I see what you mean. They are very nice though, thanks." My parents usually bought me clothes as presents. Mum was always giving off about how worn and scruffy my clothes looked. I never really spent much time or money on buying clothes. Well, I never used to until now that is.

My mother looked at me, "You're not really going to wear them are you?"

I winced and shrugged, "Well, no I don't think so."

She nodded, "I understand. Look give them back to me, I've got the receipt and I'll leave them back, I got them from Next - I'll get you a credit voucher to spend on whatever you want to buy."

I smiled apologetically, "Thanks Mum."

----------*----------

CHAPTER 11

I woke around 8 a.m. on Boxing Day. Weather wise, this day was everything that the previous day wasn't. Clear skies, the hint of sunrise on the eastern horizon and a touch of frost on the ground. I smiled to myself as I pulled on my tracksuit. I wondered if I had really lost my marbles. The thought of going out on a frosty cold winters morning for a run was filling me with eager anticipation? Mad, totally mad. I quietly let myself out the front door and the first lungful of cold air nearly stopped me in my tracks. I limbered up and set off at a gradual pace. I didn't run as hard as I had the previous morning, but that was probably due to a different mental attitude. I felt more at peace. I was still a little uneasy around my parents and the feeling was mutual. Although the conversation the previous evening had been a little more 'normal', I still saw the disapproving looks my father gave me.

On returning and after a lovely hot shower, I padded back to my room with my towel wrapped around me. What to wear? It was the day to face the extended family. Although part of my mind told me to go for understated, the other half was saying 'what the hell show them what you've got'. I sat on the bed for a moment to decide and then shrugged and grinned to myself. I decided on a white stretchy body top, denim skirt, black hose and my knee-length black, leather boots. The skirt wasn't the shortest I owned as it came to just above my knees. I didn't overdo the make up but I made it a little more striking than I had done so far. After brushing my hair and putting on my jewellery, I stood in front of the mirror. I smiled. Definitely sexy, but not slutty. This was me.

Claire was the only one downstairs as I entered the kitchen. She was again still in her dressing gown. She took one look at me and gave a low whistle. I obliged her with a fairly sensuous twirl. "Wow," she said, "Are you sure you want to go with this look today?"

I feigned being hurt, "Why? Do I not look good?"

Claire grinned and raised an eyebrow, "Good in the moral sense or in the hot sense?"

I batted my eyelashes, "Oh the hot sense."

She nodded, "Hot you definitely are. Good? I don't think our parents will think so."

I shrugged nonchalantly, "I know. But hey, this is the way I like to dress. And if the whole family are meeting me today, they may as well meet the real me. I certainly wanted to soften the blow for you and Mum and Dad, but the rest of them? They can take their chances."

Claire looked at me closely, "Uh huh? Well, it's your show. Don't say I didn't warn you. Expect a few requests for outfit amendments from our beloved parents. Believe me I know, I still remember my teenage days and the fights I had with them over what I wanted to wear."

I remembered them too. But that was different, Claire was a child then and I could understand my parents' concern. "Well you could help me out sis," I said.

She looked at me through narrowed eyes, "Uh oh. What do you have in mind?"

I grinned, "Make yourself look just as hot and then they can't complain so much at me. I'll just say that I'm dressing no different from you."

I didn't get the reaction I expected. I had thought that Claire would laugh, banter with me and probably agree. Instead she rolled her eyes, murmured "Sure," and turned away to make herself a cup of coffee.

I walked over to her side, "Hey, what's wrong?"

She looked at me with a rueful grin and shook her head, "You don't get it do you?"

I really didn't get it. "No, what's up?"

She softly replied, "That's just it. I look at you now and there's no way I can make myself look as 'hot' as you. I don't compare. I know you used to be my brother, but next to you now I'm just ordinary. I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe it's because this is the way you were always meant to be..."

I bit my lip. "Claire I'm so sorry, I'm an insensitive idiot. But you're wrong, there's no way you look ordinary next to me."

She gave me that look that would have been a look over her glasses if she wore glasses. It was accompanied with the cynical up twist of one side of her mouth and corresponding cocked eyebrow. It all combined to tell me she thought I should catch myself on. She said as much, "Come on Nicola. Let's not kid ourselves. I know I'm fairly attractive. I don't have a complex about myself or anything, but let's be honest here. You're downright gorgeous and you know it."

I tried to protest but she continued, "I think that's part of why Mum and Dad actually find it so hard. They find it hard to deny what you are saying as you sit in front of them looking like you do. And I'm betting I'm not the first person to tell you this, no?"

I shrugged awkwardly, "I guess."

She smiled, "Look, I'm not going to get too hung up on it so don't you either. OK?"

I grinned "OK, but I've one condition on accepting that."

I got the 'uh-oh' look again. She replied tentatively, "And what is that?"

I smiled, "After breakfast, we're going upstairs and it's time for a makeover party for Claire."

She rolled her eyes but didn't offer too many protests.

----------*----------

We managed to sneak upstairs into Claire's room just before Mum and Dad surfaced. Claire showered and washed her hair, whilst I checked out her wardrobe to see what we had to work with. When she came back into the room, I sat her down and blow dried her hair for her. I think she enjoyed it and found it relaxing. A bit of hairspray here and there too. I had brought a spare corset of mine in from my room and grinned wickedly as I held it up.

Claire squealed, "You expect me to wear that?"

I smiled, "Sure, I'm totally enhanced and non-natural, why shouldn't you be?"

She laughed and her resistance wavered, "Well OK, as long as it isn't too uncomfortable."

I giggled, "Oh come on Claire, if I've learnt anything about being a woman over these past few weeks, it's that comfort is secondary to beauty."

I slipped the corset around her and began to tighten it. After I got the slack out of it, I paused for a moment. Claire spoke, "I'm glad you're done, it's really quite restrictive isn't it?"

I giggled, "Honey, I haven't even started yet, we're only about to get going." Any protests she was going to lodge were cut off in a sharp gasp as I began to tug hard on the laces. When I was satisfied, I tied it off.

"There you go, what a figure," I complimented.

"I can hardly breathe," she complained.

"Look in the mirror at your waist and your bust," I instructed.

She did so and her complaints began to settle. She turned from one side to the next, "Damn. Look at me." She cupped her hands under her breasts, "Wow, look at what I've got. But heck, I can hardly breathe."

I shrugged, "You'll get used to it sister darling."

I had picked out a knee-length little black dress that Claire had brought with her and some matching pantyhose. Claire got dressed and then I sat her down and began to do her make up for her. Claire had tried to protest that she had been a woman for a lot longer than I had and knew how to do her own make up. I ignored her protests. When I was finished, I stepped back and was really quite pleased with my efforts.

Claire looked in the mirror, "Hey!"

"What?"

"Has the world gone crazy or something?"

"Huh?" I replied intelligently.

"First my erstwhile brother shows up as a hot babe and then 'she' proceeds to do my make up better than I can? How come?"

I laughed, "I had a good teacher. Remember Beth is a top beautician and for the last month, I've spent hours each day looking at fashions, make up, beauty techniques." I shrugged, "A good teacher, that's all."

She smiled and stood up to take in her full appearance in the mirror. I stood beside her and we looked at ourselves. Claire smiled, "We both look pretty good don't we?"

I nodded and grinned, "We certainly do."

Claire pursed her lips, "They're gonna flip when they see us aren't they?"

I nodded seriously, "Yep, they are."

----------*----------

When we went downstairs, my mother looked at us and did a double take. "Oh err morning girls," she looked at us closer, "don't you think are you just well, dressed a little too..."

Claire stifled a giggle, "A little too?"

My mother folded her arms, "You know what I mean. You're both dressed quite provocatively."

Claire and I looked at each other and then smiled at our mother. I feigned a little pout, "But Mum, we think we look nice. We wanted to get dressed up for the party."

My mother sighed and spread her hands, "Fine, fine. I can see I'm not going to get anywhere with you two. Well if you're not too busy preening and complimenting yourselves, there's plenty of work to be done in the kitchen."

The rest of the morning was duly spent helping out in the kitchen. Mum was cooking a large meat roast for lunch and there was lots of preparation to be done. I spent most of my time peeling potatoes as Claire prepared the vegetables. My father had been out for a walk down to the nearby newsagents to get the morning paper. He came back into the kitchen and nodded to us all and then, like my mother, took another look at us. He paused and then quietly said, "Nic-ola, can I have a word with you in the living room?"

I shared a quick knowing look with Claire, dried my hands and then followed my father into the living room. I felt like the proverbial little boy who had been sent to see the school headmaster. He sat down and indicated for me to do likewise. I was very careful to smooth my skirt down properly as I sat. I tried to smile at my father.

He sighed, "Right, you are going to live as a woman, that's your choice. But you are still my child, and I will still give you advice. You are an adult and what you do with my advice is up to you. Is that fair enough?" I nodded and he continued, "I can't tell you what way to dress and I can see that modesty is not one of your highest priorities."

I found my voice, "Dad! That's not fair. Tell me exactly what is wrong with the way I look and the way I am dressed. My skirt is just above my knees, hardly too short. I'm not exposing any excess bared flesh or anything."

He paused and looked like he was searching for the right words, "I know what you are saying, but well, it's just that...well I think you are dressed and looking a bit too...sexy." His nose wrinkled in distaste at having to actually say the word.

I raised my hand to my mouth to hide the smile which I knew would not be well received. I composed myself, "Dad, I hear what you are saying. But I like dressing and looking like this. It feels really nice. I enjoy being attractive. Heck I've never really experienced it in my life so far."

I could see my father was having difficulties swallowing all this. He nodded, "Well OK, but have you spared a thought for the consequences of your actions?"

I was puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"Have you thought about the effect you will have on men? The way you look will have a certain effect on them you know."

I nodded, "I know." I shrugged, "I haven't given it much thought really, but I'll be careful."

He nodded slowly. I could see that he wanted to say something more but was having difficulty starting. Suddenly I knew what it was he wanted to ask. "Just ask me Dad," I said softly.

He looked up at me and after another brief pause nodded, "Alright. I hate to ask, but...are you gay?"

This was almost the question I was expecting, but I didn't expect it to be phrased just like this. I didn't exactly know how to answer the question as he had put it. "Umm Dad, gay as in what way? Do you mean girl-girl or boy-boy?"

He looked uncomfortable even discussing such things. My father was very conservative in his outlook, "I mean 'boy-boy' as you put it."

I sighed, "Dad, for one thing, I'm not exactly a boy any more. What you are asking is am I attracted to men, yes?" He sort of grunted and nodded. I took a deep breath, and with honesty replied, "I don't know. This really isn't a central issue to what I'm doing. I don't know how I feel. I can't really say much more than that. Would you be more comfortable if I was still attracted to women given the way I look now?"

He shook his head, "Nicola! I don't know what to think. I mean my son comes home and announces he's now a woman. It's all a bit much. I can't get to grips with it all. I just hope you think it through and work out the ramifications of what you are doing."

"I'm trying to Dad, I really am."

He didn't know what to say, "Well, go on then - go back and help your mother and sister."

I was never so glad to go and peel potatoes as I was then.

----------*----------

Uncle George was the first to arrive. We heard him before we saw him. Or rather, we heard the roar of his Mercedes as he pulled into the driveway. He came in with his usual bluster, "Esther, my delightful sister, how are you?" He kissed her on the cheek and then shook Dad's hand vigorously, "Bill, great to see you, hope you're having a happy Christmas?" My Dad offered some non-committal platitude in response. Uncle George was the youngest sibling on Mum's side, being in his mid forties. He was I guess what you could call a smoothie. He was wearing a silk shirt, matching neck-tie and tailored slacks. He gave Mum his coat and then turned to us, "Ah Claire how's my favourite niece?" He cocked his head, "You're looking quite lovely today." He gave Claire a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He turned to me and obviously not recognising me, turned back to Claire, "And who is your lovely friend?"

Claire tried to keep a straight face, "Oh this isn't my friend, Uncle George meet my new sister, Nicola."

He looked puzzled for a moment but then the penny dropped, "Nicola? As in...Nick? Huh? What's going on here?" He looked a little flustered but quickly regained his composure, "Erm, no-one told me this party was fancy dress."

I smiled, "Uncle George, it's not fancy dress. I've sort of had a bit of a lifestyle change."

Uncle George always prided himself on being one of the more progressive members of our family. Dad called it liberal. "Ah, ok Nicola. Well whatever tickles your fancy." He looked closely at me again, "Well I have to say, no matter how strange this seems it does seem to suit you. I guess I have another niece." He gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek too. He turned around and clapped his hands, "Now, how about a drink for George after that long journey? Bill, I don't suppose you've got a good bottle of wine in the house? No? Ah well, just as well I brought one along myself." And he headed into the kitchen in search of a glass. That was Uncle George. He was irrepressible and as much as my parents might try to disapprove, it was impossible to dislike him. They rolled their eyes, Claire and I just chuckled.

Aunt Olivia, Dad's sister and her husband, Uncle Edward, arrived next. There were the usual greetings with my parents and then to Uncle George. They greeted Claire and as before, when attention was focussed on me, it was apparent that they didn't recognise me. "Hello dear, who are you?" asked Aunt Olivia. Uncle George didn't want to miss out on the moment, "Oh Olivia, hadn't you heard? Nick has become a Nicola." He casually sipped his wine. My aunt's eyes widened and she took a closer look at me, "Well I never." She raised a hand to her throat and looked as if she didn't know what to say.

"Huh, what was that?" asked Uncle Edward who had been talking to Dad. Olivia turned to her husband and pointed at me, "Apparently that is our nephew Nick."

"Was," I said.

"Pardon?" my aunt replied.

"Was," I repeated, "'That' was your nephew Nick. 'I' am now your niece Nicola." I was a bit peeved at being talked about as an object in the third person. I stood up, smoothed my skirt and walked over to my aunt and gave her a hug, "Nice to see you Aunt Olivia," and then walked over to Uncle Edward and stood on my tip-toes to give him a light kiss on the cheek, "Hello Uncle Edward." I turned and walked back to my seat. Aunt Olivia was frozen to the spot and Uncle Edward held his cheek where I had kissed him as if he had been slapped. He then sort of spluttered, "Bill, what on earth is going on here, is this some sort of joke?"

My father was leaning against the far wall and didn't look too thrilled at being brought into this. He shrugged and shifted awkwardly, "If it's a joke, none of us are laughing Edward. It is as you have heard."

Aunt Olivia looked at me intently, "What's got into you Nick? Why on earth are you doing this? Are you gay?" Aunt Olivia was one of those well-meaning tactless people. She didn't set out to be demeaning, she wasn't malicious, she just didn't put too much thought into what she said.

I sighed, "One - nothing has got into me, this is my choice. Two - I am doing this because I want to. Three - gay or otherwise has nothing to do with this and quite frankly if I were, again that would be my choice." I was getting a bit irked and I think my mother sensed this.

"Nicola, come and give me a hand in the kitchen for a moment please," she asked softly. I knew what she was doing and I wasn't too pleased. I wanted to stay and stand up for myself, but I knew better than to argue with her. As I was leaving the room, I heard Aunt Olivia chide my father, "You let Esther call him Nicola, haven't you tried to talk some sense into him Bill?" I bristled but continued into the kitchen aided by the gentle pressure of my mother's hand on my back.

She closed the door behind her and I blew off steam, "Who does she think she is? What gives her the right to talk to me like that?"

My mother held up a hand, "Darling, what did you expect. You know them. How did you think they would react?"

I shrugged and calmed down. "I guess you're right. I'm just a little on edge."

"I'm not getting at you, but remember you are the one who has sparked this off. You know that your father and I don't approve, you can't expect others to either. But I suggest that you try to avoid making things worse than they already are. Be civil, courteous and modest."

I nodded, "You're right again." I groaned, "How do you get to be so wise Mum?"

She couldn't resist the opportunity, "By listening to what your parents tell you."

"Touché," I murmured with a wry grin.

----------*----------

We both slipped back into the room as the last of the guests were arriving. Dad was taking the coats from Aunt Vera, Mum's older sister, Uncle Keith and Phil and Dawn my cousins. There was a lot of hand-shaking, greetings, hugs and the like. I hung back near the kitchen door suddenly feeling very self-conscious. My earlier bravado had deserted me and I cast a longing look towards the hall door and thought about making a dash for my bedroom. I think my mother noticed and gently squeezed my arm, before whispering in my ear, "Don't even think about it, you've got to go through with it now."

Inevitably, the round of greetings from the new arrivals shifted its focus to my mother and me. I swallowed and decided to make a pre-emptive strike. "Uncle Keith, Aunt Vera, Phil, Dawn," already their faces looked puzzled at the way this apparent stranger was addressing them, "I know this must be quite strange, but as you can see, I've been going through some changes in my life. I'm Nick, or rather I used to be." I shrugged, "I'm Nicola now."

"Shit!" was the subconscious response from my cousin Phil. Aunt Vera suspended her own disbelief for a moment to remonstrate with him, "Phillip, watch your language." I don't think he even heard her, his eyes were glued to me. Uncle Keith looked quite disturbed and Aunt Vera shook her head as if she didn't believe it. Dawn had a little smile on her face as she took in my appearance.

I forced a smile, "Yes it's me, honest." They continued to stare, "Umm, I think I'm going to melt if your eyes burn into me any longer." I just wanted to fade into the background. Eventually they got the message and tried not to stare any further. Well except Phil who had gone quite pale. "Phillip, stop staring," hissed Uncle Keith.

My mother cleared her throat, "If you all want to make your way into the dining room, we're ready to serve dinner. Maybe Olivia and Vera could help me?"

As we headed to the dining room, Dawn fell in beside me. She smiled, "Nicola? Is that right?"

I grinned, "Yes, afraid so."

"Oh my god, you look amazing," she whispered.

I smiled, "I'm glad someone thinks so."

"No seriously, you look beautiful. I don't know how I never saw this before, you are a natural. I can see why you've done this."

"You can?"

"Yes, this is so obviously you. I mean you were always a bit of a weed before."

"Hey Dawn!"

"Sorry, but you know I'm right."

I laughed, "I guess so." We sat down together and Claire sat down on my other side. I flashed her a 'thank-you' smile.

"When did this all happen?" asked Dawn.

I began to tell her the brief version of my transformation to date. I paused whilst my father gave thanks for the food. Mum and my aunts dished out the dinner and after a while, the stilted conversation turned into a buzz. I had no doubt that I was the topic of a few of the little chats going on around the table. I also noticed that Phil was sitting at the far side not talking to anyone. I caught his eye and smiled but he looked away quickly. I wasn't sure how to take this. Phil and I had always been really close and I had been looking forward to catching up with him. But I turned my attention back to Dawn and was so grateful to have a friendly non-confrontational almost normal conversation.

The dinner was good and I sensed that people were beginning to relax. Particularly Uncle George who was single-handedly working his way through his bottle of wine. I caught his eye and he winked at me and raised his glass to me. I smiled back at him. After dessert was finished, my mother decreed that Claire, Dawn and I should clear up and sort out the dishes. I didn't mind, but Claire and Dawn groaned. Once we were alone in the kitchen, Dawn hugged me. "What was that for?" I asked with surprise.

She shrugged, "I just guessed you could do with a hug. You looked a little down on it, when we arrived. I imagine you haven't found things easy with your parents let alone with all this crew here today."

I smiled, "Thanks. You're right. Everyone hasn't really been what you would call supportive. Well, Claire's been a good help."

"Hey now, don't drag me into this any further," Claire said, "I'm trying to appear as the good child." She winked, "I've my eye on a bigger share of the inheritance now."

I squealed and threw some soap suds at her and the beginnings of an all out war were nipped in the bud by Mum bringing some more dishes in to us, "Girls, behave now." She left again.

Dawn regarded me thoughtfully, "Your Mum seems to have accepted things."

I shrugged, "Not really. It's more reluctant resignation. And believe me, it took a lot to even get to that stage."

We chatted amiably as we cleared up and eventually after seeming like we had washed every dish in the street, let alone our house, we were done. I wasn't overly keen on going back in to face everyone, but I knew I had a few things to tell them. Predictably, as soon as we entered the room, the conversation hushed. I decided to take my opportunity.

"While everyone is here and I have your attention, I want to talk to you for a few moments." I certainly had their full attention. "I know that seeing me like this must be quite a shock to you all, but I want you to know that my decision to take this step is reasoned and well considered. I know that most of you probably don't approve and think I'm some sort of weirdo or pervert..."

"Nicola," my mother chided, "please."

I apologised, "Sorry Mum. But you know what I mean. Anyway, I do have something to tell you and a request to make of all of you." I paused, they were still with me, "I've managed to land a recording deal with Sony records and will be recording an album in the next few months. Now you can all save your praise and congratulations for later as I've more to say." I couldn't help the irony and saw Claire and Dawn grinning at me, "Yes, this deal is as my new self. My sort of stage name if you could call it that will be Cara Malone. That is the name I will be recording and performing under. Now this is where it gets tricky. Outside of this room, there are three other people in the world who know who Cara Malone really used to be." I paused and let this sink in. "So if you follow me, I am not planning on advertising Cara or Nicola's origins. This is in no way a reflection of me being ashamed of what I am doing, but it is simply the reality of pursuing my career." I took a breath, "Now I am asking you, I can only ask, that you respect my wishes and don't tell anyone about this. I can't make you or force you. I know you may not agree with what I am doing, but I am simply asking that you give me a chance to live this life my way." I looked around the room and met each person's gaze. Phil looked away again. I was finished speaking. There was silence for a few moments and then Dawn sat up and spoke.

"You can count on me, I'll not say a word," she stated. She looked around at the others as if trying to incite a response. She nodded at her father.

Uncle Keith grimaced, "I'm not planning on saying anything either, sure we won't Vera?" She nodded sharply.

Aunt Olivia spoke up, "I'm certainly not planning on telling anyone at all. But more out of consideration for Bill and Esther's reputation."

I forced myself to smile sweetly, "Thank you Aunt Olivia."

Uncle George snorted and chuckled, "What I want to know is, can I buy shares in your record company before you make it big?"

I sat down and slowly the conversation started up again in little groups around the room. After a short while, I decided to go and speak to Phil. He was sitting by himself in the corner of the room. I went over and sat beside him and simply said, "Hi."

"Uhh hi," he said shifting a little uncomfortably.

"Phil, are you OK? I mean I get the feeling you're avoiding me."

He shrugged, "I dunno. It's just that this is like weird. The way you look and all."

I nodded, "You think I look bad?"

He gave a mirthless chuckle, "Yeah that's the problem, you look bad." He shook his head, "That's not it at all. You don't look bad. That's just it."

I was lost now, "I don't follow you Phil."

He sighed, "Look I was coming here looking forward to catching up with my old cousin Nick, and here you are...looking like...this."

I nodded, "It's OK Phil. I shouldn't expect people to accept me easily. But I did sort of hope you wouldn't react like the others."

He looked at me sharply, "Hey, don't lump me with the rest of them. You've got it wrong. What you do is up to you and that's fine. None of my business. I really hope things work out for you and you make it big."

I was quite mixed up now, "Thanks."

He continued, "Look, the problem is with me, not you." He turned round to face me, "When I arrived, I came into the room and looked around. I didn't know who you were but I was wondering who the babe in the corner was." He shrugged, "And then I found out it was you."

Now I understood, "Oh."

"Yes. Oh," he replied, "and when I look at you still, I can't believe it's really my cousin Nick."

I nodded, "Well believe it's really your cousin Nicola." I held out my hand, "Hi Phil, I'm your cousin Nicola."

He looked at my hand for a moment and then shook his head and grinned to himself, "You're something else you know." He took my hand and shook it. "This doesn't mean I don't still feel weird about this though, OK?"

I chuckled, "Fine by me." We chatted a bit. Mainly I got him to tell me what he had been up to, because I didn't want to freak him out more by talking about my recent happenings.

----------*----------

When they all eventually left, I felt totally drained. As I looked at my parents, they looked much the same as I felt. My mother sighed, "I think I'll go to bed." She stood and then winced and raised her hand to her chest.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked with concern.

My mother shook her head, "Nothing. Just a bit of heartburn. Too much rich eating and a bit of stress I imagine. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure."

We all headed upstairs and when I got into my room, I found I had received a text message on my mobile. It was from Jools. It was short and to the point: "U cow! I'm dying 2 hear how u r. Phone asap." I grinned and keyed in her mobile number.

"Hello?"

"Hi Jools."

"Cara!" she gasped, "About bloody time. I've been thinking you would phone me for over a day now."

"Yeah, sorry. I've been sort of occupied."

"Well?"

I grinned, "Well what?"

"Oh," she exclaimed with frustration, "Don't leave me hanging, tell me all about it."

I told her about all that had happened since I had left. We must have been talking for almost an hour and I only realised the time when my mobile phone battery bleeped as it was getting low. I finished up with Jools and promised to keep in touch over the rest of the holiday period.

----------*----------

The next morning Mum had decided it was time to revisit the local supermarket to replenish our depleted food stocks. She asked Claire and I to come along and help. Claire reluctantly agreed. I couldn't bring myself to go and look at more food after the previous two days of heavy eating. Plus I had something I needed to talk to my father about. He was sitting in the living room reading his morning paper. I brought in two cups of coffee and offered him one.

"Erm thanks...Nic-ola."

I smiled and sat down opposite him and fidgeted a bit. He noticed. He set his paper down slowly and regarded me. "Alright, what is it?"

I absentmindedly brushed my hair back from my face, "Well Dad, I sort of need some advice." I paused.

"Go on," he urged.

"Well. It's sort of delicate. But I was thinking with you being a solicitor and all, you would know the legal side of things."

He took a sip of his coffee, "Come on, just ask me what you want. Dancing around it isn't likely to make it more palatable is it?"

I nodded and swallowed, "OK. I was wondering, how do I go about changing my name?"

He paused with his cup halfway to his mouth and slowly set it down on the arm of his chair. "Changing your name." He took a long, slow breath. "You want to legally change your name to Nicola."

I nodded. "Look Dad, I know how hard this must be for you to take. I know it seems like I'm shunning the name you and Mum gave me, but surely you understand that with where my life is going, I have to have a proper name that matches who I am. I need legal things like ID, driver's licence and a passport and all."

He sat there for a moment and then sighed and sat up. "Right. A person can legally change their name by deed poll. This is a legal document that you draw up with a solicitor and sign. It is a declaration that you are forgoing your previous name and are going to use whatever new name you specify."

I nodded, "Where does this deed poll go?"

He shrugged, "It doesn't have to go anywhere. You can submit it to the Enrolment Books of the Central Office of the Supreme Court of Deeds and a public record of your name change will be published in the London Gazette."

I screwed up my nose, "But then, how do I go about changing the likes of my driving licence and so on?"

"You need to submit your deed poll with your licence application and they will issue one in your new name."

I grimaced, "I guess the licensing authority will keep a record of that."

He nodded, "I imagine they would."

I pondered this for a few moments, "Is it possible to get your birth certificate changed?"

He considered this for a few moments and after a little hesitation answered, "No. In England and Wales you can only in the normal course of the law apply to change a child's birth certificate and only under certain circumstances."

I knew my father well and I had spotted something in the nuance of his reply. "Dad, why did you hesitate and what did you mean by 'the normal course of the law'?"

He sat there thinking for a few moments. He didn't answer my question. "Let me see if I understand you. You want to change your name and all appropriate documents. You don't want there to be any record of this. You want a new birth certificate. You don't want there to be any evidence of your change. As if Nicholas Evans never existed."

I winced at the last comment, but he was right. "Yes I guess that's about it."

He nodded slowly, and enigmatically replied, "We'll talk more about this tomorrow."

I tried to press him for an answer, but he wouldn't be drawn on it. I knew where I got my stubborn determination from.

----------*----------

After breakfast the next day that my father stood up and simply said, "Come on Nicola. Get your coat, we are going out." I didn't know where we were going, but I figured it probably had something to do with what we talked about the previous day, so I didn't ask. Mum and Claire were obviously curious. "Where are you two going?" Mum asked.

"Business to take care of," my father said in a tone which indicated that he wasn't intending to elaborate. I followed him out into the hall.

"Err Dad, I don't know where we are going, but am I dressed OK?" I was wearing my black velvet top and burgundy trousers.

He shrugged, "Not quite my choice for you if you know what I mean. But it will do fine."

"Sure know how to make a girl feel good," I murmured.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, let's go." I grabbed my black jacket.

We drove to the local newsagents where there was one of those little photo booths. My father told me to sit inside and make myself presentable for a photo.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just do it, you'll see in good time." He put the money in. I shrugged, pulled the little curtain over the doorway of the booth and got ready for the photos. I tried to relax and give a natural smile. Four quick flashes and 3 minutes of waiting later, and the strip of photos came rolling out of the slot in the side of the booth. I looked at them with interest having never seen a photo of myself as Nicola/Cara before. It wasn't too bad. These sorts of photos always looked a little unnatural though. We got back in the car and were driving in the general direction of Cardiff city centre.

"Can I ask where we are going Dad?"

He continued to look straight ahead at the road, but then after a few moments replied, "We're going to see a friend of mine who might be able to help you."

I was immediately suspicious and concerned. "What sort of friend? What is this about? I hope you're not trying to persuade me out of what I'm doing again."

I think he sensed my panic, "Relax. I'm doing this probably against my better judgement, but this is to help you do what you want to do."

"Where are we going then?" I repeated.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "We are going to the law courts."

I wasn't too reassured by his answer, but I forced myself to sit at peace and decided to hold my tongue and see what came of this. Before long, we turned onto Fitzalan Place, and drove past the courthouse. My father turned into Knox Road and found a parking place. We got out and began walking back to the courthouse.

"Dad, the place looked pretty closed to me."

"It is."

"So we're going there because?"

"There's a friend of mine there who is expecting us."

We walked up to a side door and Dad pressed the buzzer. A metallic voice spoke from the speaker, "Yes?"

"William Evans. Justice Dempsey is expecting me."

A pause. And then the door buzzed and unlocked. Dad pushed it open and I followed him in. A security guard was inside and he nodded to my father, "Mr. Evans, he's in his office." The guard looked at me for longer than was necessary and I was aware of his eyes travelling up and down my form. I resisted the urge to shiver and followed close behind my father.

My father murmured, "Ignorant grunt."

"I beg your pardon?" I whispered.

"I saw the way he was looking at you, I've a good mind to go back and give him what for."

"Dad, please don't"

"I won't, but he better behave better when we are leaving."

We went up two flights of stairs and along a wood-panelled corridor until we came to a door with a brass nameplate on it declaring that this was the office of the Justice Dempsey we were apparently coming to see. My father knocked and a gruff voice called out, "Come in." We went in. The office was spacious and carpeted with a plush red pile. An old undoubtedly antique mahogany desk was set in front of the windows and a balding man with glasses in smart casual clothes was sitting behind it. When we entered, he stood up and greeted my father without smiling, "Bill, I'd say it was good to see you, but you better have a damn good reason for dragging me in here on my holidays."

"Richard, you know I wouldn't do it if it wasn't important," my father replied.

Justice Dempsey noticed me. "Who's this?" he asked brusquely, "Your daughter?"

My father gave a thin-lipped smile and didn't quite answer his question, "This is the reason why I am coming to you today."

"Hmm. Well have a seat. Daughter got into trouble or something and you need help?"

We sat down. I was quite intimidated and was happy to let my father do the talking. "Something like that," he replied, "Except this isn't my daughter...it's my son."

"What the hell?" spluttered Justice Dempsey. He looked at me closely, and then fixed my father in his gaze, "Is this some sort of joke which I'm not getting and not finding funny? I may be near retirement, but my mind and eyesight are still sharp enough to tell me that this young woman looks nothing like anything that could be called your son."

My father hesitated and I decided to speak for the first time. I wasn't sure what my father was doing, but decided to trust him. "Thank you sir," I said softly, "but what he has told you is true. I used to be his son."

He looked at me and blinked several times. He rubbed his forehead and then set his palms on his desk and faced my father again. In a softer tone he continued, "Alright Bill. What's going on and why are you here?"

My father nodded, "This is...or was my son Nick. He...I mean she...is adamant that he... she is going to live as a woman. Understandably I have tried to talk some sense and make hi..her see sense. To no avail."

"Damn!" Dempsey sympathised with my father.

"I know," my father agreed, "But the upshot is, she is as stubborn as her father and refuses to see reason." I felt my blood beginning to boil and it was all I could do to sit there and keep silent. But something told me that an outburst here was not going to be helpful no matter what was going on. My father continued, "As you can understand, this has the potential to cause our family and myself professionally a large degree of embarrassment."

Justice Dempsey interjected, "And you want me to put her away for good?"

My eyes boggled and when he saw my expression, he laughed heartily, "Had you worried there young woman....man....whatever." He waved a hand at my father, "Go on Bill."

"Well. 'Nick' wants to become 'Nicola'. Obviously a deed poll and change of major identification documents will leave a paper trail. And the birth certificate will still state the male identity."

Dempsey narrowed his eyes, "You realise Bill that under law, there is no legal provision for alteration of birth certificates."

My father sighed, "Come on Richard, how long have we known each other? Thirty years? Don't treat me like an apprentice. You know I know the law. And you also know that I know the provisions under the Ministry of Defence Protection Act of 1993."

Justice Dempsey paused and took a deep breath. He removed his glasses. "Bill, are you asking what I think you are asking?"

My father looked him straight in the eye, "Yes Richard. I need your help. You know it can be done. You can do it."

"Yes but should I do it?"

"Why not? What I am asking is not for you to do anything illegal, you know I wouldn't do that. It is well within your purview and discretion to make judgements on such matters as these."

I really was having a hard time following the discussion. I had a vague inkling as to what was going on, but wasn't really sure. We all sat in silence for a few moments as Dempsey cleaned his glasses with a cloth. He sighed and put his glasses on again, "You did help me out with Brian that time."

My father raised a hand, "Richard, I'm not here to bargain or put you under pressure. I'm not coming saying this is quid pro quo. I'm making a request. The decision is yours."

He nodded, "I appreciate that. And it's not as if you are going to make this a regular habit. Alright Bill. I'll do it." He looked me, "Young...lady...I guess I'll have to address you as that. Young lady, what do you wish your name to be?"

I cleared my throat, "Err, Nicola Jane Evans."

He nodded and wrote this down, "And what was your full name?"

"Nicholas James Evans."

"And what is your National Insurance number and date of birth and place of birth?"

I bit my lip but them remembered something. I fished in my handbag, pulled out my purse and found the card, "FN 75 45 36 C, my date of birth is 17 September 1979 and I was born in Pembroke."

He wrote this down and nodded. "Now 'Nicola', do you have your driving licence with you? I need it please. And I presume you have some photographs of your...new self?"

I looked at my father with puzzlement, but he nodded. I pulled out Nick's driving licence from my bag and gave it to him along with the strip of photos. He set them down with the piece of paper he had been taking notes on. "OK. Bill, I'll process this through the usual channels. Now today's Friday, I imagine it will be Tuesday before the documents will be ready. Deliver to your house?" My father nodded.

Dempsey grinned, "Now how about you get the hell out of here so I can get out of here soon and get back to my holidays?"

My father stood and I did likewise. The two men shook hands, "Richard, thank you so much."

"Well, I guess things are hard enough for you with what's going on. I'd be gutted if one of my boys starting pansying about like this..."

My father shrugged, "Well, got to roll with the punches."

Once we were outside the door my patience broke. "How could you let him talk about me like that and what was that all about the embarrassment to you and the family? Is that what you think of me? And I thought you were trying to help me and all you are doing is thinking of covering your own backside!" I stormed off down the empty corridor and bit my lip hard to try to prevent the tears from welling up.

"Nicola, wait!" my father called. I walked on. I heard him running from behind. He put a hand on my shoulder, "Would you stop and listen for heavens sake." I stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Don't you realise what just took place in there?" he asked.

I slowly turned round, "I'm not sure."

He sighed, "I've just stepped outside the bounds of professionalism to help you. Way against my better judgement. I told you there was no way to get a birth certificate changed through standard channels..."

Just then, a door opened and a man walked into the corridor heading towards us. My father took my arm, and whispered, "Come on, let's go and we can talk in the car." We headed down the stairs and back to the door we had entered by. The same guard was there and he gave a little smile when he saw us coming. His eyes were all over me again. My father paused and in a low voice growled, "Take your eyes off my daughter." The young man gulped and stuttered, "S-sorry sir." He pressed the release for the door and we headed out.

When we got into the car we sat there. My father turned to me, "I'm sorry for the things I said in there. I didn't mean them, but it was the only way to do it. I had to convince Richard to help us for my sake. He would have no compulsion to help you unless he thought he was helping me." He paused and took a deep breath, "I don't agree with what you are doing, but I want you to know I am not ashamed of a child of mine. This was for your benefit."

I looked at him with uncertainty, "What did happen in there then Dad?"

"There are certain times when people need a change of identity. This is required discreetly and without any public record. There is provision for specified members of the bench to grant such a change if the case presented to them merits it. Richard Dempsey happens to be one of those. He also happens to be an old colleague and friend of mine."

"How do you know about this Dad?"

He paused, "That's not something we need to discuss."

"So what happens now?"

"You will be issued with a new birth certificate, driving licence, passport and National Insurance number card. Your records will be changed on the Driver Licensing central records and with the records of the passport agency and inland revenue."

My mouth dropped open, "They can do that?"

My father looked at me sternly, "You do not tell anyone about this. You do not talk about this. You do not tell your mother or your sister. Do you understand?"

I nodded. I was flabbergasted. He went on, "I am doing this for you to protect you, but there are some things that cannot be changed by this process."

"Umm what like?"

"As wide ranging as the powers of this act might seem, they cannot change for example your school records. But that is hardly necessary I would think. What you will have should be sufficient."

I pondered, "Maybe. Maybe not."

He looked closely at me, "What are you thinking?"

"Umm nothing really. Thanks Dad. I really appreciate what you have done. Sorry for going off at you."

He shrugged, "Richard's a right wing jerk." I laughed. I'd rarely heard my father talk like that and for him to say that was quite something. He started the car and we drove home. My father again immediately deflected the barrage of questions from my Mum and Claire and said that we had gone for a drive and talked. When Claire tried to pump me for information later, I refused to go into details. She seemed hurt, but she would survive.

----------*----------

CHAPTER 12

On Saturday, Claire and I decided to go into the city centre for some sales shopping and we spent an enjoyable day and a fairly obscene amount of money on clothes, cosmetics and jewellery. I think we were bad for each other as we encouraged each other on. Claire had remarked that she had never had as much fun sales shopping before and could begin to see some advantages of having a sister. On Saturday night, she headed back to Bristol as she was meeting up with some friends the next day and had to go back to work on Monday. She promised to return for New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. We hugged tightly before she left and I thanked her for all her support.

Although there wasn't any compelling reason for me to stay on with my parents and although it might have been easier to take my opportunity to go back to London, I decided that it was best to stay. The more time I spent with them, the better they would adjust to what I was doing. Or so I hoped. Sometimes it seemed like we were making progress and that I was being accepted. But other times I would get disapproving looks and little disappointed comments. What could I expect though?

On Sunday I went to church again with my parents and enjoyed the simple service. We had a pleasant lunch together and as it was a clear sunny day, we all went for a walk in the afternoon. Being at home was not easy, yet I was enjoying spending a prolonged period of time with my folks. I think above all, I felt relief that they now knew all that was going on. Almost all. The cold fear and dread that I had had over the previous month when thinking about my parents was gone. I was thankful for that. We had been an open family as we grew up and hadn't liked keeping my changes from them.

Dad went back to work on Monday and my mother was meeting up with some friends of hers. Being at a bit of a loss for things to do, I decided to go to the local gym for a workout. When I arrived, I suddenly had a panic about the changing rooms but was relieved to find out that the female changing area had private cubicles where I could change into my leotard without exposing myself. I enjoyed a good workout. I also noticed that I was receiving a fair share of glances from a young man. I tried not to let on that I knew he was watching me. I was flattered by the attention, but I knew I had to be more careful. When I was heading out of the gym, he came over and tried to make small talk. Part of me felt I should be polite and talk, but I was fast learning that politeness is often taken as meaning a lot more with some men. So I gently, but firmly excused myself. I didn't shower at the gym for obvious reasons and headed back to the house for that. With the house to myself for the afternoon, I enjoyed a relaxing few hours playing on my old friend the piano.

Phil phoned the next morning a little to my surprise. "Hi Nicola?"

"Yes?"

"Phil here."

"Phil?"

"Yes you know your cousin. You introduced yourself to me on Boxing Day, remember?"

I laughed, "How are you Phil?"

"I'm fine. Listen I wanted to apologise for being a prat the other day. Can I make it up to you?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Dawn and I and two of my friends were going to head out for a bit of New Year's Eve entertainment and wondered if you and Claire would like to head up to join us?"

"Where are you going?"

"We were going to head to Diva's in the Student's Union." This was in Swansea, where Phil's family lived.

I groaned, "Seriously?"

He laughed, "Come on, it's about the only lively place in this town and they have a good entertainment programme planned."

"Well, I guess I don't have any better offers." Then something struck me, "You said two of your friends, you, Dawn, Claire and me?"

"Ye-es," he said, "Why?"

"Sounds like a nice even number to me. Let me guess, one of your friends wouldn't happen to be Owen, Dawn's boyfriend."

A slight pause, "Well yes. How do you know about Owen?"

I laughed, "Oh you know, girl talk on Boxing Day. So is this a triple date cous? If so, which of your cousins are you planning to be incestuous with?"

He laughed, "Hey, it's not illegal for cousins you know."

I smiled, "Maybe not but my question stands: are you planning to partner Claire or me? Or are you going to lump me with your friend?"

"Nicola, it's just a fun night out, nothing serious. If you don't want to come, that's fine."

"OK sorry. I'm only teasing. What time and where? I'll talk to Claire and see what she says."

"Meet at our house about 8pm?" he suggested.

"I'll let you know."

I phoned Claire during her lunch hour and she was all for it although she groaned at having to drive all the way up from Bristol and then on to Swansea. She said that she would phone Phil back and confirm that we were coming. I warned her to get here in good time as we had to make ourselves presentable.

It was late afternoon when I started to think of heading to the bathroom to get ready. I figured I should take a head start so that the bathroom was free when Claire arrived. Just before I went upstairs, the doorbell rang. My mother answered the door and called me, "Nicola, it's someone with something for you."

I was intrigued and went to the door to find a leather-clad motorcyclist courier there with a sealed package for me. It was labelled 'Private and Confidential'. I was initially puzzled and then I suddenly realised what it probably was. I signed for it and thanked the courier. My mother was curious and I knew she wanted to know what was in the package. But I remembered my father's warnings and I shrugged and said I would open it later. Yes about thirty seconds later once I was in the privacy of my own room.

I ripped open the package and laid the contents on my bed. I was really quite amazed. I had a brand new passport in the name of Nicola Jane Evans with one of my new photos in it. Similarly for my driving licence. What was even more impressive was that the driving licence had the same issue date as my previous one and looked a little battered and used. However the birth certificate capped it all. It really looked like a certificate that was 23 years old. The paper was a little faded and frayed at the edges. I shook my head as I handled these documents. The amount of work and effort that must be required to produce these was staggering. I felt elated - it was like a confirmation of new identity. I slipped the birth certificate into an envelope with my passport and stored them in a zip pocket of my suitcase. The driving licence and my new National Insurance card, I placed in my purse.

----------*----------

By the time Claire arrived home at 6:30, I was bathed, legs shaved, hair washed, dried and styled, and sitting in my room in a bathrobe wondering what to wear. Claire burst in, "Heya sis. Ready to party tonight?"

I laughed, "Don't make me nervous. I'm not much of a party animal you know."

She waved a hand at me, "That was the old you, I've great hopes for the new you. I'm going to hit the shower and wash my hair." She went to leave but then turned back, "And I know exactly what you should wear, so wait for me, OK?" I agreed as she was already halfway out of the door.

She returned 15 minutes later with wet hair. I helped her dry it and style it. Then she jumped up and grinned, "OK your outfit for tonight."

I looked at her warily, "Why do I get a bad feeling about this?"

She laughed, "Because you're a bad girl?"

I pouted, "Am not. I'm a good girl." I tossed my head.

She waved a hand at me and began to rummage around in my wardrobe, "Not tonight you're not. Time to try out some of your new purchases from the weekend."

I groaned a little. Claire had encouraged me to make some purchases that I don't think I would have made had I been left to myself. I had an idea about what was coming. She smiled and pulled out a top, "This is definitely the top for you for tonight." It was a stretchy, white sleeveless top which I knew from trying it on in the shop left none of my curves to the imagination. She continued, "And with it of course it has to be...tada!" She pulled out an extremely short, black leather skirt. She had insisted that I buy it. I had protested. I thought it was even too short for my less-than-conservative taste but she wouldn't take no for an answer. She had reasoned that if I was going to be a 'rock chick' as she called it, then of course I would need a short leather skirt. I had eventually given in, but had kept the receipt thinking that I would probably return it sometime when Claire wasn't around. "Claire, I can't! It's too...," I paused and wrinkled my nose trying to think of the right words.

She giggled, "Too what?"

I grinned, "It's too sexy I guess."

She shook her head, "No way. Tonight is not a night for too sexy. No such thing. At least try it on and see how it looks."

I sighed, "Alright, but I'm not planning to wear it." My corset was already around my waist loosely. I tightened it fairly severely. I was about to tie it off when Claire shook her head, "Oh no sister. After what you did to me in the corset the other day, don't think you are getting off easy." She walked towards me.

"Getting off easy?" I exclaimed, "It's as tight as it goes."

She raised an eyebrow, "We'll see about that. Now take a deep breath in." I groaned and did so and at the same time she yanked viciously on the laces. I know it sounds trite, but I really did feel as if I was being cut in two. Claire grunted and wrestled with the laces and then tied them off. "There, that's more like it," she said with pride. I looked at my waistline in the mirror. It really was waspish. I took little breaths and found that it wasn't too bad really. I shrugged and took the white top from her as she handed it to me. I slipped it on. It fit perfectly. It accentuated my full breasts and narrow waist. I knew it looked good, it felt good. I took the leather mini from her and stepped into it and zipped it up. Oh but it was short. It just about came down to mid thigh. "This is almost indecent," I complained.

Claire laughed, "Almost, but not quite so it will be fine. And anyway, your outfit isn't complete. I bought you a little present which I think will compliment your ensemble nicely." She handed me a packet. I took it and looked at it. Black tights. Fishnet tights!

"Claire!" I gasped, "Are you planning on getting me arrested for being a hooker tonight?"

She grinned, "Not unless you are planning to act like one. Come on, it's New Year's Eve, it's a big party night. We are going to a student club. You are a beautiful, sexy woman so why shouldn't you dress like one? Try them on, go on!"

I sighed and against my better judgement opened the packet. I pulled the tights on and adjusted them. Claire handed me my long black suede boots and said, "It has to be these, try it and see how it all looks." I shrugged and slipped the boots on. I stood up and turned to face the mirror. I stood and stared. I shook my head and murmured, "Claire, I really think I look too sexy."

She giggled, "I know, you really do. So that's it settled, that's you dressed for tonight."

"Claire! I can't go out like this," I paused, "Can I?"

She nodded, "You will go to the ball Cinderella. And if it makes you feel better, I bought a pair of the same fishnets, so you won't feel like the odd one out."

I laughed and looked at myself in the mirror. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I didn't like the way that I looked. I think the problem was I liked it too much. But I also had the perspective that I knew what a guy would probably think of the way I looked. I mentioned this, "Claire, umm, what do you think the guys will think of the way I look?"

She laughed out loud, "Oh so you are concerned about what they will think?"

"No, I mean yes, but not in that way. I mean, I don't want to give the wrong signals."

"What are the wrong signals?" she asked softly.

I shrugged, "I don't know. Like I don't want them to think I am interested in them."

She smiled, "Nicola dear little sister, this is the joy of being a woman. You can go in there looking like the hottest thing on two legs, which you probably will be, and enjoy yourself. It doesn't matter what any man thinks about you, they can look, but they can't touch and you can have no interest in them whatsoever and have a good time. It will drive them wild!"

I wrinkled my nose, "Isn't that being a bit of a tease?"

She giggled and nodded, "And?"

I sighed. With the mood she was in, I could see that I was on a hiding to nothing. I was distracted from my train of thought by Claire beginning to slide her top on. I butted in, "Hey no way sis."

"Uhh?"

"You haven't put your corset on yet." And I proceeded to wrap my spare corset around her and viciously lace her up as tightly as she had done to me. She complained but from the look on her face, I knew she liked the effect it had on her figure. She put on a black velvet top. It was stunning. Sleeveless and strapless. I quipped, "It's as well you've big enough boobs to hold that top up."

She flushed a little, "Hey, they're not quite as big as yours, but at least mine are natural. Are yours sis?" She winked.

I winked back, "Not yet." She was in the middle of pulling on a denim miniskirt and she stopped dead in her tracks.

"What did you just say?"

I shrugged now feeling a little self-consciously and she went on, "Did you just imply what I think you did?"

I shrugged again, "Umm, maybe?"

She slowly pulled her skirt on, not taking her eyes off me, "You are thinking of having breast implant surgery." A statement.

I smiled and inclined my head. I spoke softly, "Well perhaps. I mean, it sort of makes sense."

She sat down on the bed and regarded me thoughtfully, "Would you like your own breasts?"

I smiled and sat down beside her. I chewed my lower lip and then turned to look at her, "Yes, I think I would."

She blinked several times, "Wow. Have you discussed this with anyone?"

"Only my doctor."

"Your doctor? So you are really serious about this? I mean it's sort of like, irreversible, well not really, but almost."

I shrugged and grinned, "And you think what I've done already could be undone without any trouble? Even if I wanted to?"

She nodded thoughtfully, "OK, point taken." She nodded slowly to herself and then turned to look at me again, "You haven't told anyone else about this, but I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"I want you to promise that you won't go off and do this without telling anyone. You must tell me beforehand."

I sighed and felt a little irked, "What? So you can try and talk me out of it? Claire, I thought you at least got it, I mean when..." I stopped. Her index finger was an inch from my lips.

"Shush you, and listen to me," she said softly. "I'm not going to try and talk you out of it. I see the person you want to be and I'm going to have to get used to it. In fact I think I might like her. Do you think I'd be taking you out like this tonight if I wasn't now with you on this? Why you have to tell me is not for me to talk you out of it. It's so I can be there for you when you have it done."

It was as if someone had put a hand around my throat and squeezed. I felt choked. I swallowed hard, and could feel my eyes stinging as moisture welled. I blinked a few times and swallowed again. I took a deep breath and forced a smile, "Claire, I don't know what to say..."

She smiled, "Just promise me."

"I promise."

She grinned, "Now dry your eyes before we get our makeup on. Remember we are going out to party tonight so no holds barred, now go for it."

I laughed and dabbed my eyes gently with a tissue. Claire helped me with my makeup and I helped her. I felt sure we were using too much mascara and kohl eyeliner pencil, but Claire pooh-poohed that. She thought we were using too much lipstick, but I silenced her. I painted my nails ruby red and Claire went for frosty pink. I put in my long drop earrings into my lower holes and a pair of medium sized hoops into the upper holes.

We stood up side by side and, like we had done the other day, looked in the mirror together. Claire gave a low whistle, "Damn but we are hot...watch out Swansea, here come the Evans sisters." I laughed, but she was right. With me in my black leather mini, fishnet tights and long suede boots and her in her short denim skirt, fishnets and stiletto heels - we were definitely a force to be reckoned with.

"Oh, look at the time!" I exclaimed. It was 7:20pm. "We're going to be late. We are supposed to meet Dawn at 8." It was just under an hour's drive to Swansea from where we were.

Claire shrugged, "I don't think they'll go on without us. But now the next problem."

I frowned, "What problem?"

She gritted her teeth, "Us getting out past Mum and Dad dressed like this."

My mouth dropped open, "Oh." I paused, "I hadn't thought of that."

Claire nodded, "Oh indeed. Any suggestions?"

I laughed, "You get me all tarted up like this and expect me to get us out of this?" I looked out the window, "Is the drainpipe out of the question?"

She looked at me, "With you in those boots and that skirt and me not much better off?"

I grinned, "Good point. So what's your plain Einstein?"

She shrugged, "I was sort of thinking we walk down the stairs, grab our coats, say goodbye and leave."

"Just like that?"

"Any better ideas?"

"No."

"Well then, let's go Nikki."

"OK, but don't call me Nikki."

"Gotcha."

----------*----------

Claire was fairly putting her foot down in her sporty Renault Clio as we made good progress along the A473. We had managed to extricate ourselves from the protests of our parents. Predictably they had nearly swallowed their tongues when they saw us coming down the stairs. Mum looked aghast and Dad told us in no uncertain terms that we were not going out looking like we did. Claire told him in equally uncertain terms that we were indeed going out looking like this and that as we were adults, we were entirely free so to do. More protests and counter protests were lodged and I had been happy to keep out of it. Eventually a stand off ensued and we just grabbed our coats and left. I was worried what they would say when we got home, but Claire reminded me that it would be extremely unlikely that they would still be up by the time she imagined we would be getting home.

We were only fifteen minutes late when we pulled up outside Uncle Keith and Aunt Vera's house. I was hoping that the aforementioned relatives wouldn't be there, but of course they were. Aunt Vera opened the door and rolled her eyes when she saw us. She held the door open and beckoned us in. She turned and called up the stairs, "Dawn, two more floozies to join you in your indecency." Claire and I both had to try hard not to snigger. I smiled at Aunt Vera, "How are you?"

She sighed, "I don't know what the world is coming to. It's bad enough for girls to dress like this, let alone..." I got the drift, but she never got to finish her sentence as Dawn came whooping down the stairs. She was wearing a tight red dress, black hose and patent black leather high heels. She looked great and we told her so.

She gushed, "But look at you two! And you Nicola? Wow!"

Aunt Vera tutted and threw up her hands as she went into another room and closed the door.

Dawn giggled, "Mum's a little upset about my 'tasteless dress sense'."

I grinned wryly, "You should have seen the trouble we had getting out the door."

She nodded and gesturing to our fishnets, "I can see why. You two aren't pulling any punches tonight."

Claire grinned, "We're just looking to relax and have a good time. Where's Phil and co?"

Dawn shrugged, "Oh they are going to meet us there. Phil's away to pick up Adam and Brian. We'd better go. I said we would be there around 8:30."

----------*----------

There was quite a queue to get in and it was a chilly night. Especially the way I was dressed, so I was glad when we finally made it inside. It was busy, noisy, smoky and dark. I wasn't really used to such a social scene. Well unless I was playing a gig or something. Otherwise, I wouldn't really choose to go out to a place like this. But perhaps Claire and Dawn's enthusiasm was rubbing off on me a little as I decided to relax and enjoy myself. With the crowd, it seemed like we had no chance of finding Phil and his friends. Dawn astutely came up with the solution. She sent a text message to Adam and he promptly responded in like fashion to inform us they were holding a table in the far right back corner. We made our way in that direction and saw the three of them. Dawn went up to Adam and greeted him with a hug and a lingering kiss. Claire grinned at Phil, said hi and then introduced herself to Brian. I walked over to Phil and smiled shyly. Suddenly I felt quite self-conscious. He was giving me a very strange look.

I sighed, "Phil are you still freaked out by me?"

He paused and smiled, "Well yes, but not in the way you think. I just can't get over how good you look. I mean, not just good, but..." His voice trailed off and he just shrugged.

I laughed nervously, "Well, you look pretty smart yourself." He did too. White shirt, black jeans - simple, but for a man, very effective. Nothing like the amount of effort I had had to go to, but I guess that came with the territory.

"Here sit down," he indicated to the seat next to him and I did so. He was sitting quite close to me. He continued, "Hey look, I want to apologise again for how I behaved last week."

"Think nothing of it," I said waving a hand.

"No seriously," he persisted, "I really feel bad. The last thing I want you to do is think I'm like the rest of the old fogies, all disapproving and all." He smiled at me, "When I look at you, I can't believe it's really you. I can barely see anything resembling the old you."

I felt more self-conscious and tried to cover it with a quip, "That's because you haven't taken your eyes off my breasts."

He laughed and looked my straight in the eyes, "Not quite true, but who could blame a man?" He hesitated and then with a look of curiosity asked, "Are they....?"

I stopped him, "Do you really want to ask me such a question?"

He laughed and shook his head, "I guess not. Doesn't matter. Look, do you want something to drink?"

"Err sure, I'd like a...."

He interrupted, "I'll pick something suitable for you." He asked the others if they wanted anything and headed off to the bar with our order. I sat back and looked around the table.

Claire spoke, "Brian, meet my sister Nicola. She might have got the better looks, but trust me hon I'm the one with the brains." She turned to me and winked, "Brian's going to be an architect."

I laughed, "Don't listen to my sister, it's false modesty. And did I mention that she's my older sister? But then she always liked the younger man."

Claire gasped in mock horror and gave me a playful slap, "Less of that little sister or I'll tell Mum on you later."

I smiled and actually spoke to Brian, "Hi Brian, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he said. He looked a bit overwhelmed and didn't seem to know what else to say.

Dawn giggled, "Nicola, this is Adam, my delicious boyfriend," she turned to Adam and waggled her finger, "and if I see you looking too much at my lovely cousin I'll get extremely jealous."

"Hi Nicola," he reached over with his hand.

I shook it, "Hi Adam, you're a brave man taking on my mad cousin."

He laughed, "Yes she needs some taming, but I figure I'm the man for the job."

"Hey!" Dawn protested and tried to tickle him, until he effortlessly caught both her wrists in one hand, and then kissed her.

Just then Phil arrived back, "We have drinks!" He set a tray down on the table with a little flourish and handed out the drinks. He gave me a tall glass filled with green liquid, "For the lovely lady."

I looked at it suspiciously, "What is it Phil?"

He looked at me dead pan, "You don't know? It's Vulcan blood."

I stuck my tongue out at him, "Geek!"

He laughed, "Look who's talking." I think he then realised how incongruous it was to call me a geek now. In the past, certainly it would have seemed entirely appropriate. He shrugged, "Anyway, it's actually vodka and lime." He saw me screw my nose up, "Hey try it and relax."

I shrugged and took a sip. I wasn't one for drinking much alcohol; it had never had that much appeal to me. I reckon my background and upbringing also had something to do with that. But it actually wasn't too bad. Not too bitter, quite tangy and with a bit of a bite to it. I took another sip. Phil sat down beside me again and we began to chat. I asked him about his course and his plans for jobs after he graduated in the summer. He asked me about my music deal and what my next steps would be. I was actually beginning to wind down and relax when Phil grabbed my hand and stood up, "Come on."

"Huh?" I said.

"Let's dance," he said as he smiled down at me, "Come on!"

I reluctantly stood up, "Phil, I don't know..."

"Well I do, come on and don't deny your favourite cousin a dance."

I grinned, "You want me to dance with Dawn?" The others at the table laughed.

He feigned wounded pride and I took pity on him, "Oh alright then, lead on." He grinned and led me to the dance floor.

I felt a little uncomfortable and whispered in his ear, "Are you sure you want to dance with me Phil, you know with me being, well you know..."

He turned to me and smiled and replied, "What? With you being the prettiest girl in the room? Course I want to dance with you."

I felt myself flush from head to toe and he laughed. We began to dance. It was a mixture of disco pop, dance and rock music. I was never much of a dancer before and although all I had done recently was ballroom dancing, it seemed to have helped with regard to my rhythm and fluidity of motion. I just relaxed and let my body move to the music. It came fairly easily, certainly a lot more easily that it had ever done on the few occasions when I was dragged up to dance in the past. I actually enjoyed it.

The tempo changed and Simply Red's 'If you don't know me by now' began to play. Immediately the couples on the dance floor moved closer and into each other's arms. Phil looked at me and raised a questioning eyebrow. I smiled shyly and shrugged. He grinned and gently pulled me to himself. I tentatively put my arms around his neck and felt him slide his arms around my waist. We were very close as we began to sway to the music. I laughed nervously, "This is weird."

He nodded, "I know, totally weird."

I looked at him, "You don't feel uncomfortable?"

He smiled back at me, "Extremely so. Here I am dancing with my amazingly beautiful cousin. That would be fine, except for the past which we both know. And what makes me feel most uncomfortable is that I don't really care, that I want to be with you and close to you this evening."

"Wow," I murmured.

"How do you feel about it Nicola?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. To be honest, I guess I'd rather dance with you than anyone else here."

He nodded and grinned wryly, "But that's just because you feel more comfortable with me than a strange guy."

I wrinkled my forehead, "Well, perhaps. I suppose that's not the most flattering thing I could have said."

He laughed, "I don't care to be honest, because here I am holding you in my arms and am the focus of the jealousy of all the other guys in this place."

"Phil!" I remonstrated, "Don't exaggerate."

"You think I exaggerate? Have you not seen how the other guys are looking at you tonight?"

He was right. I had noticed but had been trying to ignore it. From the moment I had walked in, I had been aware of every guy I walked past looking me up and down and taking a second look. It made me feel strange. A mixture of pride and discomfort. After a few more slow numbers, we headed back to our table. Dawn and Adam were there. Claire and Brian were up dancing Dawn informed us.

"Don't they make a cute couple?" Dawn stirred.

I laughed, "Oh yes, has anyone warned poor unsuspecting Brian about my man-eating sister?"

Dawn shrugged and giggled, "Figured we'd let him work it out for himself."

Adam winked at Phil, "They aren't the only ones who made a cute couple."

Phil laughed and sounded a little nervous, "Nah, just enjoying a dance with my cousin you know."

Adam gave him a look that was easily understood as saying, 'yeah right'.

"Ahem," somebody cleared their throat just beside me. I looked up and a large man with short bleached blond hair and a goatee beard was standing there looking down at me.

"Erm, can I help you?" I asked.

"I would think so," he said with a grin which was more like a leer I thought. "Wanna dance love?"

I felt my skin crawl, "Err thanks for asking, but I don't think so." I turned away, but he wasn't going to give up so easily.

"Come on sweetie, let me show you a good time. You sure look like that's what you're after."

Phil bristled beside me and stood up, "Look mate, you heard the lady. She said she didn't want to dance."

He sneered at Phil, "Are you her boyfriend?"

Phil hesitated, "No, I'm her cousin."

"Then butt out, this is between me and the honey here."

Phil didn't look pleased, "Well she's made it plain she's not interested, so I suggest you look elsewhere."

The big oaf laughed, "You going to stop me if I don't?"

Another voice joined in from behind me, "Yes he is and so are we if you don't sod off." It was Brian who had just arrived back at the table and Adam was now standing up beside him.

Big oaf paused for a moment and swore, he looked down at me, "Your loss, but you're not worth the effort." He turned and swaggered off and I shivered involuntarily.

I looked around the table, "Thanks guys."

Various comments ensued about jerks, idiots and the like. I felt Phil's arm gently slip around me and rest on my shoulder. "You OK?" he murmured.

I didn't protest at his arm, in fact I found myself snuggling up to him. It felt safe and secure. "Yeah, I'm alright." I paused and then looked up at Phil, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure anything."

I grinned, "Want to be my boyfriend for the rest of the evening?"

He laughed, "Do I ever! Sure thing, but I want to you to know that I'm the jealous sort and wouldn't take kindly to you dancing with other guys."

I shrugged, "Phil to be honest I think I'd be happy to only dance with you tonight anyway."

He sighed, "Well, it'll be a hard burden, but I guess I'll manage it somehow."

"Nicola, Nicola!" Claire exclaimed.

"What?"

"Oh oh, listen to what they're announcing; they're going to do some karaoke now."

"Eww, this should be painful to listen to," I grimaced.

Claire smiled, "Yes, but that's not what I was getting at. You should get up and sing."

I laughed, "I don't think so."

"No seriously, you should," Dawn joined in. She turned to Adam and Brian, "Did you know my cousin Nicola is going to be a rock star?"

They looked mildly impressed and joined in the encouragements to get up. I sighed, "OK, OK. But here's the deal. Let a lot of others go up first." I grinned, "I want to check out the competition, and then if I am going up, I'm taking my two backing singers with me." I looked pointedly at Claire and Dawn. They didn't look so enthusiastic now, but the boys were definitely sold on the idea.

Claire screwed up her face, "Alright, deal. But what are we going to sing?"

Brian went and grabbed one of the song lists that were circulating about and brought it back to our table. He gave it to me and I scanned it looking for what I thought might be there. It was. "OK girls, I've got us our song, 'Show me heaven'"

Claire and Dawn looked at each other, and Dawn nodded, "Fair enough, but what are us backing singers going to do...apart from stand there and look pretty?" She batted her eyelids a few times.

I laughed, "OK, rehearsal in the ladies' room, excuse us for a moment gentlemen."

There were a few other girls in the ladies and we decided to squeeze into one cubicle, despite the few funny looks we attracted. I talked them through the song, I knew it by heart of course. I sang the backing lines they were to sing in the chorus and got them to sing them back to me. We did it again and again a few times until they really had the hang of it. I actually began to get a little excited. It had been a long time since I had performed in public and although this didn't exactly qualify as a starring role, it was live singing nonetheless. Before we left the ladies' room, we all touched up our make up and then headed out.

Claire went up to the DJ and added our names to the list. We sat down at the table again and I asked, "Claire what did you call us?"

She grinned, "You'll find out soon enough."

Before long the DJ announced, "And now singing 'Show me heaven' are Cara Malone and Co."

I rolled my eyes and Claire briefly explained the name to Dawn and the boys as we got up and made our way onto the stage. As we turned and stood in front of our microphones there was a chorus of wolf whistles and cheers. I thought it would have been intimidating, but it produced an adrenaline rush and I smiled to the crowd as the music began. As I began to sing, the noise decreased until there was near silence apart from the music and my singing. The song built into the first chorus and the girls joined in their harmonies. I felt the old rush of blood to the head and I cradled the microphone in my hand, and closed my eyes as I sang the all too familiar words. We all really belted out the final chorus and as the music finished I said, "Thank you, good night," and blew the crowd a kiss. There was a caterwaul of cheering and whistling and we laughed as we waved and left the stage.

"Well now," said the DJ a little hesitantly, "Tell me, is there anyone in the building who wants to get up and sing to follow that?" No-one was offering. "As I thought," he continued, "and rightly so, let's hear it for Cara Malone and Co. and let's get back to some dancing." As we made our way back to our table, people applauded and waved at us.

"You're amazing," Phil murmured into my ear.

I laughed, "We just sounded good because those that had sung before us were the usual woeful complement of people who think they can sing once they have had a few drinks in them."

"No seriously," he said, "you're really going to make it aren't you?"

I looked at him thoughtfully, "I'm planning to do my best. I hope so."

He grinned, "Well I'll buy your album when it comes out."

I laughed, "I should hope so, if my 'boyfriend' doesn't buy it, who will?"

He smiled and stood up pulling me to my feet, "Come on 'girlfriend' of mine, let's dance some more."

I didn't protest as we walked onto the dance floor arm in arm. It was slow dances again and it didn't feel as uncomfortable this time. We chatted and swayed. After several more songs, I realised that my feet were beginning to hurt. I mentioned this to Phil and we headed back to the table. When we got there, we found Dawn and Adam locked in a close embrace, but to my surprise my sister and Brian were also engaged in the same practice. I don't think either couple even noticed us arriving back.

I sat down beside Phil and joked, "Dang, I feel kinda left out."

He grinned at me and winked, "What? My 'girlfriend' isn't going to kiss me on New Year's Eve?"

I laughed, "You watch yourself, any more talk like that and I'll jump onto your lap and teach you what a proper kiss is."

"Is that a threat or a promise," he said cocking his head as if challenging me.

"You think I wouldn't?" I said as if daring him to agree.

"Yes I think you wouldn't."

I don't know what made me do what I did next. Perhaps it was the two or three vodka and lime drinks I'd consumed that evening, perhaps it was the high of singing and the response we'd received, perhaps it was because of the closeness we had enjoyed that evening. I made good on my threat or promise or whatever it was. I slipped onto Phil's lap, slid my arms around his neck and lowered my lips to his and gave him a soft kiss. I suddenly realised what I had done and sat up straight, "Phil, I'm sorry. I was just being silly."

He looked at me strangely and softly said, "Were you?"

I looked at him closely, "You want me to kiss you?"

His eyes didn't leave mine, "I know it seems weird. I know we're cousins and the past and all. I'm probably not thinking straight at all, but here I am with possibly the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and tonight she's pretending to be my girlfriend. Do I want you to kiss me?" He paused and smiled, "Oh yes."

I hesitated and looked at him. Again I don't know why I did it, but I lowered my lips to his again and kissed him again. This time he slid his arms around me and pulled me closer to him and he kissed me back. It wasn't long before things became a bit passionate and I felt him slide his tongue inside my mouth. I should have resisted, but I didn't. I don't know how long we kissed for, but we had an audience when we finally broke for air. Dawn and Adam, Claire and Brian had all apparently stopped their own romantic activities and had been watching us. I felt very embarrassed and wiped my lipstick from Phil's face and slid off his lap onto my own chair. Their eyes were still on us. "What?" I said spreading my hands, "You were all at it too."

Dawn screwed her nose up, "But...you're cousins."

I shrugged, "Cousins isn't illegal."

She said something but her reply was drowned in the noise of the countdown to midnight that had just begun.

"7...6...5...4...3...2...1...Happy new year everyone! Welcome to 2003!"

The obligatory singing began and we all joined hands around the table and sang, "...For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne."

We all began to chat around the table again and I was glad for the distraction. "Sorry," I murmured to Phil.

"What for? I'm not sorry," he replied.

"Well I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything."

"Look Nicola, I'm not embarrassed. I've had the best New Year's Eve I've had in a long time. I've no pretences about what took place. I had a great time, I hope you did too."

I smiled and squeezed his hand under the table, "I did. I really did."

----------*----------

"What did you think you were doing?" Claire asked exasperatedly.

We had driven in silence for about half an hour after saying our goodbyes outside the club. I knew she was steaming and had just resigned myself to waiting for her to vent.

I shrugged, "I wasn't doing anything different from anyone else who was there."

"The hell you weren't! He's your cousin."

I was getting a bit narked, "OK, say last New Year's Eve we had gone out and I had ended up kissing Dawn, would you have been so annoyed?"

She paused, "That's different..."

I interrupted, "How is it different, she is my cousin. That was your objection, no?"

"But Phil is, well he is a guy."

"And?"

"And so are you," she replied without thinking.

I let the answer hang there in the air for a few moments. "I see," I said softly.

Claire realised what she had said, "Nicola, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?"

"Oh I don't know," she said with frustration, "it just didn't seem right."

I nodded, "I know. I agree. But I don't know what is right or what is wrong. Would it have been right if I had found a pretty girl and kissed her tonight? I imagine not. Claire I'm confused about all this. I don't know what I feel or think. I guess I wasn't thinking tonight."

She sighed, "I'm sorry for going off at you. I reckon I'm not as adjusted to your change as I thought I was."

"I know," I mused, "at times I feel that way too."

She went on, "But I think you need to sort out what you think, because not every guy is going to be as decent or understanding as cousin Phil. Think about it, if you kiss a guy, he's going to be hoping it leads to a lot more. What if they find out what you're packing under your skirt?"

I winced, but she was right. "I know, I know. It's just all so overwhelming. I mean, I felt really sexy tonight." I took a long, deep breath, "I think I'm going to have to control myself better until I can sort things out."

We drove in silence for most of the rest of the journey. When we were nearing home I said, "Claire, have you any plans for tomorrow?"

"Apart from sleeping in until lunchtime, no. Why?"

I shrugged, "I'll talk to you tomorrow. I think I need a favour."

----------*----------

CHAPTER 13

I spent most of the morning in bed and didn't feel too good about myself when I finally did surface. Claire was right. I was going to have to sort out what I felt. Easier said than done. At the very least, I was going to have to learn better self control. I felt really foolish when I thought about how I had behaved. I could make a lot of excuses: alcohol, the atmosphere, whatever. But it still came down to me not thinking through what I was doing. I couldn't afford to get into another situation like that. First Paul, now Phil. I had to be careful.

I dressed simply in a beige sweater and my blue jeans. Minimal makeup. After last night, I knew I needed to tone it down. For my parents sake, but also for my own. I found Claire at the kitchen table eating breakfast. I checked the kitchen clock, it was just after midday. I joined her and poured a bowl of cereal.

"Claire," I began hesitantly, "about last night, you were totally right. I acted stupidly and I feel really embarrassed now. I'm going to try and catch myself on and think a lot more before acting in future."

She waved a hand at me, "Hey, it's really none of my business and I probably said too much last night." She paused, "But I do worry for you. I mean you've gone from being, how can I put it...," she wrinkled her nose.

I grinned, "Say whatever you were going to say."

She shrugged, "You've gone from being Mr. Average to almost overnight becoming the object of every red blooded male's fantasy. The rest of us girls have had a lifetime of getting used to dealing with male interest. You haven't."

I nodded, "I've a lot of catching up to do and quick."

She grinned, "Especially if you're going to be strutting your stuff before the world of teenage males on Top of the Pops."

I laughed, "A long way to go before that."

She shook her head, "I don't think it will be that long." She smiled, "I saw you on that stage last night. The way you sang, the way you performed."

I laughed self consciously, "Now stop that or I'll blush." I decided to change the subject, "Where are Mum and Dad?"

Claire grimaced, "They left about 20 minutes ago. Good timing you! They are away to visit some old friends for the day."

I grinned, "Did they give you a hard time?"

She rolled her eyes, "Did they ever! I got another mini lecture about how I should know better and not be encouraging you in such ways. They asked about what happened last night."

"And you said?"

Claire shrugged and took another mouthful of cereal, "I said you danced and sang on stage like a tramp and then jumped on Phil and snogged the face off him."

For a moment she had me, "No..."

She grinned, "I told them we chatted and danced and had a quiet night. You planning on telling them anything different."

I chuckled, "What like, you mean about...Brian?"

She sniggered and waved her spoon at me, "He's a nice guy, but I doubt anything will come of it."

I played the concerned sister, "Claire really at your age you should be thinking of settling down and not going for one night gratification with young men."

She stuck her tongue out at me. I laughed and changed the subject yet again. "So, you're free this afternoon," I asked.

She nodded, "What are you planning?"

I shrugged, "Might be a long shot, but how you do fancy driving me to Pembroke?"

She set her spoon down, "Pembroke? Are you serious? What's this about, you want to take a walk down memory lane, the old homestead? Come on, it's like a hundred miles away."

I nodded, "I know that. It's a loose end that I think I need to tie up."

She looked puzzled, "What on earth is it?"

I paused, "Look Claire, I've got new ID documents and all in the name of Nicola Evans. I'm not supposed to tell you that and I can't tell you how I got them so don't ask."

Claire nodded, "That morning you and Dad went out." She was sharp.

I shrugged, "I can't say alright? But basically, there won't be much official trace of Nick Evans. Which obviously if Cara Malone makes it onto Top of the Pops as you say, will be very important. But there is a major loophole remaining."

Claire nodded and clicked her fingers, "Your old school record."

I sighed, "You're too darn smart, always have been and it really irritates me sometimes."

She grinned, "Anyways, go on then and tell me what you are thinking. Please tell me that we aren't going to break into the school and falsify your records?"

I laughed, "That is plan B. But hopefully plan A will work out."

She drummed her fingers on the table with frustration, "Come on, out with it and tell me what you are planning."

I nodded, "OK, well I was thinking about how to go about this. I don't want to break in obviously. So I need someone who will change the records for me."

Claire narrowed her eyes, "Who on earth would do that?"

"Mrs. Forbes."

"Mrs. Forbes," Claire repeated thoughtfully, "You think she would do it?"

Mrs. Forbes was the music teacher at Pembroke High. She had always encouraged me to pursue my talent and my dreams, she had always been a support and help to me at school. Before I left school she told me she would be watching out for my name to appear in the headlines sometime in the future and made me promise to keep in touch. I had broken the promise. "Yes, well I think she might help me. And I heard she was made Vice-Principal so she should have access to the records. I don't know what else to try."

Claire nodded and looked thoughtful, "And you think you really need to do this?"

I shrugged, "I would hope not. If someone goes to such lengths looking into my past, this probably isn't even enough. But I don't know if I can leave it to chance."

She nodded and mused, "Yes, I guess this would be a tabloid newspaper's dream. Well have you at least spoken to Mrs. Forbes?"

I shook my head, "I looked up the phone number in the directory but haven't phoned yet. I wanted to check if you could run me down there today if needed."

She sighed, "The things I do for my sister. Go phone because if we are going down there, we should get going sooner rather than later."

I did as I was bid and grabbed the phone to take it into the next room. I dialled the number I had written down. Of course she might not be there; it was New Year's Day after all. Would she remember me? The phone was answered at the other end.

"Hello?" It was Mrs. Forbes. Oh crap, think Nick's voice.

"Err, hello Mrs. Forbes?"

"Yes, who is that?"

"Umm, you may not remember me, this is Nick Evans."

"Nicholas! Of course I remember. Why this is a surprise."

"Yes, sorry to phone out of the blue like this, but I well, sort of need a favour."

She sounded puzzled, "Oh? What is it?"

I paused, "I know this sounds really strange, but I would rather talk about it face to face. You still work in the school?"

"Yes. Are you alright? You sound a little strange."

"Yes I'm fine. But I do need to talk to you. Today. If that's OK?"

A little pause, "Well alright. I'm not going anywhere. Do you know where I live?"

She gave me the address and I wrote it down. I figured I had better say a little more before turning up. "I'll be coming with my sister Claire, you may remember her. But just to let you know, I'm quite different now to how you remember me."

She was really confused now, "Are you sure you are alright Nick?"

"Yes I'm sure. I'll explain everything when we get there. We should be there in about two and a half hours."

----------*----------

It was a long tedious drive and I got the impression that Claire was not exactly overjoyed at being my chauffeur. Or chauffeuse? I wondered if that was a word or not. It was very strange to eventually drive back into our old home town. I hadn't been there since my parents moved to Cardiff three years ago. I had had no reason to return. Until now. We pulled up outside Mrs. Forbes semi-detached house and got out.

As I walked up the path, I realised that I was taking a bit of a chance. Mrs. Forbes would be another person to be added to 'the list'. I wondered what Jools would think of what I was doing and I realised I maybe should have given her a ring to at least tell her what I was planning. Too late now. I pressed the doorbell.

The door opened. "Hello?" Mrs. Forbes said without much evidence of recognition of Claire or myself. Then something clicked. She looked at Claire, "Oh I remember you, you are Claire Evans aren't you? But where is Nick then?"

She looked at me and I smiled sheepishly, "Hi Mrs. Forbes."

I got the wide-eyed astonished 'it can't be' look which I was getting quite familiar with. "Nick?" she gasped.

I smiled nervously, "Well it's sort of Nicola now."

She looked flustered, "Y-you'd better come in."

She told us to wait in the hallway for a moment and she went in and shooed her husband out the other door into the kitchen. She brought us in and we sat down. She apologised, "Sorry, but Cecil would find this even stranger to take in than me. Now what has happened to you?"

I grinned, "Where do I start? Well as you can see, I'm not living as Nick anymore, I've sort of had a major life change." I went on to explain a little about how my life had been going and how I felt now. I wanted to give her some background, but I didn't say anything about my music yet.

She listened and to her credit seemed to be trying to understand, "This is really quite incredible. I would not have recognised you at all. But I'm still at a loss to see where I fit in to this."

I nodded, "I've got a recording contract with Sony Music."

She took this in, "As Nicola I presume?"

"Well as Cara Malone. Stage name you know. But yes, as a female."

She nodded, "So you didn't make it as Nick ever?"

I shook my head and she continued, "You were one of the most gifted students I had ever taught. I really did think you would succeed."

I smiled, "I think I might be about to." I looked over at her piano, "May I show you?"

She smiled warmly, "Please do."

I sat down at the piano and pondered over which song to sing. Which would she appreciate most? I decided on 'Not dancing, but flying' as it was a piano driven soft ballad. I played the song and sang with as much feeling as I could muster.

"And whenever I will think or dream of you, we're not dancing, but flying."

I swivelled round on the stool and looked at her for her reaction. She clapped her hands, "Amazing. You've an even better voice now than you had before." She winked, "But you hit a B flat there instead of B in the third verse."

I laughed, "I blame you for some of my perfectionist tendencies you know."

The atmosphere was a little more relaxed now. Music had always been a strong bond between me and Mrs. Forbes. Most people have one teacher that has a major influence on them and she was mine.

"But you didn't come down here all this way just for me to tell you how good you are did you?" she asked.

I shook my head, "No. As you can imagine, no-one knows, well very few people know that Cara Malone was once Nick Evans. And as I am sure you can appreciate, it wouldn't exactly be helpful for this to come out. If I do succeed that is."

"Go on Nicola, tell me why you've come," she gently urged.

I sighed, "I know this is a lot to ask, but I was wondering if you would be able to help me to get my school records changed from a male Nicholas to a female Nicola."

She nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "I was beginning to think it would be something like this. This is a lot to ask you know."

I nodded, "I know, I'm really sorry to have to do it, but I couldn't think of any other way to do it. Well apart from breaking in, but Claire talked me out of that. I was just thinking that you know as you were Vice-Principal that you might be able to do this."

She smiled a strange smile, "Nic-ola, didn't you hear? I'm not the VP anymore."

My face fell and I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach, "Oh." I sighed, "I really should have asked before I came all this way."

She gave a little chuckle, "It's alright. No, I'm not the VP. Nic-ola dear, I was made Principal of Pembroke High nine months ago."

I looked up at her and saw her wry grin. I didn't know what to think or hope. "Erm, does that mean you'll do it?"

She looked intently at me, "It means I could do it, but I'm not sure if I should. Falsifying records? If it were found out, I could in theory be dismissed."

I nodded. She was right of course. What right had I to ask her to put herself at risk. But then it came to me and I clicked my fingers, "What if I could give you irrefutable proof that you hadn't falsified the records?"

She looked at me curiously, "What are you talking about?"

"What if your 'amended' records simply agreed with my legal identity? Mrs. Forbes, I shouldn't say too much about this, but let's just say that if anyone viewed my passport or birth certificate, or checked any centrally stored government records, what they would find would be in accordance with what I am asking you to change my records to. So if there were any comeback on it, the school records would simply match my legal documents."

She pondered this and slowly nodded. "I see what you mean. I want to help you, so I'll do this." She paused, "Are you sure about what you are doing? I mean this is a drastic change."

I smiled and nodded, "I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some doubts or fears. But the thought of going back to my life the way it was is something I can barely conceive. So, I'm fairly sure, not completely sure. But are we ever completely sure of anything?"

She nodded, "Fair point. Alright well it seems as if Nicola Evans is going to become the most gifted student I ever had."

"Mrs. Forbes, will anyone else at the school find out about this?"

She shrugged, "Past pupil records are only accessed if a specific request comes in. Like from an employer wanting a report of conduct, confirmation of exam results and the like. There is no other reason for anyone to look them up."

I nodded, "I really appreciate this. Thank you so much. I know I probably don't have to say it, but can you keep all this to yourself?"

She winked, "I was planning on telling Mr. Harkins."

I laughed and winced all at the same time. Mr. Harkins was the Physical Education teacher who had tried unsuccessfully to engage my interest in some form of sport. Whereas I had spent my time making excuses to head off to the music department. I grinned, "Well if you do, tell him I am running and working out most mornings now. More than I ever did."

She raised an eyebrow and looked at me, "Well it certainly looks like you do."

I thanked her again and we left. We got into the car and we both groaned at the prospect of the long drive back to Cardiff. Mum and Dad were there when we got back. I received a few comments along the lines of them being glad to see me dressed more modestly. When they asked us where we had been, I evaded a direct answer and told them we had been to see an old friend.

----------*----------

I was up early the next morning and didn't even have time for a run. Claire had to leave early to get back to Bristol for work. I had decided to hitch a lift with her and then get the bus back down to London. I had initially planned to stay until the end of the weekend. But I was beginning to itch to get back to the city and get on with things. I had in a strange way enjoyed the time I had spent at home and I knew it had been worthwhile, although extremely difficult. However it was time to move on. There was a band to find and songs to write. Dad was heading back into work again today and Mum was up to ensure we all had a hearty breakfast before going our separate ways. I had all my things packed and wore my black velvet top and denim skirt with my long black leather boots.

As we were about to leave I said my goodbyes. I gave Mum a hug and was surprised by the strength of the return hug she gave me. She looked at me closely, "Now you take care of yourself. Be sensible and don't do anything stupid."

My father harrumphed, "You mean don't do anything ELSE stupid."

I forced a smile, "Bye Dad." I didn't know whether to hug him or not. We both stood there awkwardly and from the look on his face, he didn't look overly receptive to or desiring of prolonged displays of affection.

"Keep in touch," Mum said.

"I will," I promised.

"Love you both," she called after us.

"Love you too," Claire and I chorused.

We got in the car and Claire chuckled. "What is it?" I asked.

She shook her head, "Just thinking, if I ever lose my job, at least I know what my next job could be."

"OK go on, tell me."

She grinned and winked, "Chauffeuring Cara Malone. I've certainly had enough experience of it."

I pouted and gave her a playful slap. The roads were fairly empty this early in the morning but as we approached Bristol, the morning traffic was beginning to build. Claire pulled up outside the bus station where I had arrived on my way to her house only ten days previously. It seemed like almost a lifetime ago. She helped me lift my suitcase from the boot of the car and we stood there looking at each other.

She grinned, "Come here you." We hugged fiercely.

"Thanks Claire," I murmured, "Thanks for everything. You're the best."

She laughed, "I don't know about that." She became serious, "You know Mum was right. You need to be careful. You'll not always have your big sister there to look out for you."

I nodded, "I know. I'll give you a ring in the next few days."

We said our goodbyes and I went in and bought my ticket. As the bus pulled out for the trip to London, I began to muse over the happenings of the last week or so. It had been emotionally draining. I examined myself, metaphorically speaking, to see whether I was less or more certain of what I was doing in the light of all that had taken place. I guess it was six of one and half a dozen of another. I was certain that what I was doing was right. I was sure that it was what I wanted. What I think I had realised though was that although I could look, walk and talk like a woman, I had a lot to learn about surviving as a woman in the world outside. In the first few weeks, I nearly always had Jools and Beth there to support and help me. The last week or so, I had had Claire. Could I cope without such support? I didn't know and the thought was a disconcerting one. I would have to find out.

----------*----------

CHAPTER 14

It was mid afternoon by the time the taxi left me off outside Jools' apartment. I wearily lugged my suitcase inside and up the stairs. I didn't expect anyone to be there. Jools had said she wasn't planning on coming back up from Devon until the weekend. I set my suitcase down at the top of the stairs and nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Cara!!" Jools squealed and came bounding across the room towards me and nearly bowled me over as she grabbed me and bear hugged me.

"Ummph!" I murmured. She eased up a bit, "Heya Jools, you nearly scared me to death there. I thought you weren't coming up until the weekend?"

She stepped back, pushed the hair out of her eyes and shrugged, "I was getting bored and wanted to get back up here. Lots of things to sort out and plans to make and all you know. And sure you said you weren't coming back up 'til the start of next week."

I grinned, "I guess I felt pretty much the same as you. Plus I had had enough of being at home. It was getting kind of restrictive."

"You'll have to tell me all about it," she insisted. And we made some coffee and sat down on the sofa. I told her all about the past ten days or so. She wouldn't let me leave anything out. Although I did leave out my shameful behaviour with Phil. We chatted for a few hours and she told me about her Christmas at home. Her parents had arrived in for a surprise visit. Which apparently was good, but then got bad as the trials of living with ones parents began to wear on both Jools and Beth. I could sympathise. We made ourselves a bite of tea. It was a freezer to microwave to plate job, but we were happy enough. After tea, it was down to business.

"Right Cara, I've been thinking about so many things."

"No kidding," I teased.

She grinned and shushed me, "The first major problem is your ID. I have racked my brains and done some research on this. You can change your name by a thing called a deed poll, but the problem is that to change your ID documents, you have to show evidence of your changed name. This could be a link to the past that could be exploited."

As she told me all this, I couldn't help but sit there with a smug grin on my face. Eventually she could stand it no more, "Cara! This is important you know."

I raised a hand and without saying a word, went over to my suitcase which was still standing just inside the door. I opened it and took out a brown envelope. I also brought my hand bag over and took out my driver's licence and National Insurance number card. I handed these and the envelope to Jools.

"What's this?" she said suspiciously.

"Look at them."

She did so. She marvelled at the driver's licence, "Nicola Evans? Where did you get this?"

"Look in the envelope too."

She pulled out the passport and my birth certificate. "My goodness, how on earth did you do this?"

I grinned, "Impressive isn't it? I can't tell you the details, but let's say that having a father in the legal business came in handy."

She was dying to know all the details, but I refused to tell her. She eventually got the message. "Well, will there be any record of this?" she asked.

I shook my head. "It's as if Nick Evans never existed," as I said this, I felt a little pang somewhere deep inside. Nick Evans hadn't been a bad guy and I would miss parts of him. I shook my head to clear such silly nostalgia and brought my mind back to the present.

"What's wrong?" Jools asked softly having noticed some reticence in my expression. I shrugged and she went on, "Difficulties adjusting?"

I nodded, "Something like that I guess."

She looked at the documents again, "Wow, this is totally amazing. Is that everything sewn up then in this regard?"

I went on to tell her about my visit to Mrs. Forbes and told her how things had gone. She was a little unsure at first, but when I assured her that we could trust Mrs. Forbes she was happier. She agreed that it made sense, but like me hoped that we were being extra paranoid.

She waved my driving licence in the air, "This means you can drive again."

"Not yet," I said shaking my head.

"Why not?"

I grinned, "I have to go buy a car first."

"Uh huh? Got something in mind?"

I grinned. I did.

----------*----------

"Are you serious?" Jools whispered to me.

"Who wouldn't be?" I murmured as I ran my hand over the sleek contours of the car, "I've always wanted one of these."

She giggled, "There's still some male left in you obviously."

I winked, "Believe it honey."

Just then the salesman came over to us. He was dressed in the stereotypical slick business suit and the manner to match it. "Afternoon ladies, now I'm all yours, how can I be of assistance? I'm Dave Kingston."

I smiled, "Hi Dave, I'm Cara and I'm thinking of buying a car."

He smiled at me and I spotted his eyes doing the usual up and down. To be fair, I hadn't exactly dressed the most modestly today and that was quite deliberate. I was wearing a smart black jacket and skirt suit. The skirt was as you might expect, not the longest. With my black stockings and high heels, I knew I was creating the desired effect.

"Well Cara, you've come to the right place. Are you interested in the MGF?" he gestured to the convertible beside us.

I blinked a few times and smiled, "Who wouldn't be?"

He laughed, "I can just picture you driving it. Do you want to test drive it?"

I nodded, "Would that be OK?"

"Oh most definitely," he turned to Jools, I'm afraid there isn't much of a back seat, and I have to go on any test drives so..."

Jools got the message. She shrugged, "Oh I'll just wait here."

We drove out of the lot and I turned right. I had always fancied having an MGF convertible. Sleek and sporty, fast and fun. It was a sexy car. The engine purred and responded fantastically as I depressed the accelerator. I was aware of Dave glancing over at my legs. My skirt had ridden up a little as I had changed gears. Let him look. I was unashamedly doing the thing that all females had done for many years: using their sexuality to help them get what they want.

We got out back at the showroom. "Well what did you think?" asked Dave.

I nodded and shrugged, "I like it." I sighed wistfully, "I really do and I've always wanted one, but to be honest, I don't think I can afford it at £15,499. But thanks for letting me test drive it. Maybe one day."

I half-turned away but he called me back. I smothered my grin. "Yes?"

He smiled affably and spread his hands, "Look, let me see what I can do for you. A pretty lady like you deserves such a car."

I looked down and feigned embarrassment, "You're flattering me Dave."

He laughed, "Oh not at all. Let me go and check with the boss."

I smiled sweetly, "Thanks."

He went into an office. Jools hissed at me, "You're not even giving him a chance. He'll be offering to buy it for you next." I grinned.

He came back and smiled, "Look, the best I could do for you would be to give it to you for £15,000. Best I can do."

I nodded and smiled, "Great, I'll take it."

He looked slightly taken aback at my swift response, but I had known I was going to take it when I walked in. "Uhh, ok. Do you need a finance loan?"

I shook my head, "I'll bring a cheque for the full amount when it's ready."

Now he looked even more perplexed. "Oh alright, well great then."

We left. My new car would be ready in about 2 weeks. I had ordered a metallic silver colour. "Are you sure you've spent enough on your car?" Jools asked.

I grinned, "We've just landed a 100k advance and you think I can't afford it? Don't worry Jools, I'm not going to go out and become a spoilt rock star bitch. Well not immediately. But I always wanted a really nice car. I need a car right now, so why not buy what I want?"

She grinned, "I guess. We're going to need to talk about finance and money I see."

I laughed, "Yeah, but not today. Come on and let me buy you some dinner, I'm starved."

----------*----------

We sat over coffee the next morning and began to discuss the band. "Have you any thoughts in mind?" Jools asked.

I nodded, "Well one thought anyway."

"Who?"

"Jon Peters."

Jools nodded slowly, "Of course. Yes. But isn't he in a band at the moment? I think I even heard they were doing quite well."

I nodded, "Yes, but the last time I was talking to him, well a month or two ago, I got the impression he wasn't exactly happy. A few interpersonal difficulties within the band."

Jools raised an eyebrow, "Really?" She loved music gossip.

I nodded, "Yes. I think 'smelly drunken slobs' was how Jon described them."

Jon Peters. Possibly the best undiscovered lead guitarist talent in the country. OK, I was probably biased. We'd first met at high school, but his family moved to Bangor in North Wales when we were fifteen years old. We'd jammed a bit back in school, but had lost touch after he moved. We bumped into each other at a gig in a South London club three years ago. Like me, he'd moved to London after leaving school and was trying to make it. He'd been through series of bands that had got nowhere. Our musical tastes were very similar and we had tried to get a band going together. We'd done a few gigs together, him on guitar, me on piano and vocals. The music had been good, but the spark was missing. We'd given up and both moved on to other things after about six months of going nowhere. Every so often, he'd come over to my place or vice versa, we'd have a jamming session, chat, swap stories of repeated failures and the like. I hadn't seen him for a few months. He'd been touring somewhere in the North of England with this new band. They seemed to be getting a name for themselves, but he didn't seem to be enjoying it.

Jools interrupted my reverie, "So you think he would be interested?"

I shrugged, "Hope so."

She regarded me thoughtfully, "Are you planning on telling him?"

"Hmm?" I asked.

"You know what I mean."

I sighed. I nodded slowly, "I think so. Well not initially. If he wasn't interested, there would be no point telling him, but I guess if he agreed I'd have to tell him."

"How would he react?"

I shook my head, "I have no idea."

"You're sure about this?"

"Jools, you've heard him. He's the best around."

She nodded, "Granted. But you two tried it before and nothing happened."

"Jools I tried lots of things before and nothing happened. Things seem to be happening now; I think it could be different. Jon is a genius, he can make a song come alive. I think he is what we need to add an extra dimension to the music."

"OK, so how do you want to do this?"

I thought. "Well you'll have to ring him. He'll remember you. Tell him you have an opening, see if he is interested."

"What if he says no? What if he says he's in a band right now?"

I grinned, "Jools, you're extremely persuasive. As I sit here like this with you now I am a living testament to that fact. Tell him to come, meet me, hear the music, jam for an afternoon. No strings attached. No commitment."

She nodded, "OK. When?"

"As soon as possible, we need to get moving on this."

----------*----------

Jools had managed to track Jon down sometime the next afternoon. He was initially reluctant. He said he was sort of in a band at the moment. Jools seized the opportunity hinted at by his vagueness and persuaded him to come over the following afternoon. He wasn't overly thrilled when he heard it was a female artist he was coming to play with. I knew Jon had always fancied himself as the lead guitarist in a high octane male rock band. But I hoped he would see past that and realise the opportunity here.

Monday came and we were going to set up and play in the back room behind Jools' office below the apartment. I couldn't believe how nervous I felt as the time drew closer. I wasn't keen on having any lunch and I think Jools sensed my apprehension. "Hey relax, after what you've come through up to now, this shouldn't be a problem."

She was right. But try telling that to my stomach. I grinned, "I know. I'll just go and make myself presentable." I put on a beige blouse and my denim skirt and long boots. I checked my makeup and touched it up. I gave my hair one last good brush. I looked good. But I still felt nervous. We had decided that Jools would wait downstairs and meet Jon. She was going to tell him a bit about me. Leaving out the 'who I used to be' part. She was quite clear that she was not going to tell him that; that was up to me later. She would tell him about the recording contract and sing my praises a bit. Then she'd call me down and we'd meet, chat and I'd play some of the songs and take it from there.

I heard the doorbell and heard her welcome him in. I forced to myself to sit on the sofa and not pace up and down. After what felt like hours, but was actually only twenty minutes when I checked the clock, Jools called up the stairs to me. I took a deep breath and calmed myself before walking down and heading through to the back room.

Jon was standing there looking sort of awkward, leaning up against one of the walls. I walked in and smiled shyly, "Hi."

His eyes brightened when he saw me, "Uhh hi. Cara? I'm Jon Peters." He pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps over to where I was and held out his hand.

I shook his hand, "Thanks Jon for coming over. I've, uhh, heard a lot of good things about your playing." I was consciously trying to suppress my Welsh accent as the last thing I wanted right now was a conversation about where I came from.

He shrugged and looked a little uncomfortable. That was the funny thing with Jon: like all lead guitarists he had the ego to match and wanted to be the absolute best. But when you complimented him he came over all sort of shy. "I've heard a lot about you too...well in the last few minutes. I hadn't heard of you before Julie phoned though to be honest," he said apologetically.

I shrugged, "I wouldn't have expected you to."

There was an awkward pause and Jools cleared her throat, "Look Cara why don't you play Jon some of your material and see what he thinks."

He shifted awkwardly and began hesitantly, "Look I don't know if I'm wasting your time here. I'm like in a band at the moment and I'm not really looking for anything else right now."

Jools smiled her diplomatic smile, "We're not doing anything else this afternoon. At least listen, maybe play along and give us some constructive feedback."

He smiled and shrugged, "OK." He resumed his leaning against the wall posture.

I went over to the keyboard and made sure the mike was at the right height. I took a moment to compose myself and then launched into 'Nine years old again'. I poured all my nervous energy into my performance: playing and vocals. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I was worried that he was going to recognise me and ask me what the hell I was doing. I moved on into 'Not dancing, but flying' and closed my eyes as I put as much feeling into it as possible. By now, I was loosening up a little and looked over at Jon. He smiled. He didn't look bored, in fact he looked quite interested. I grabbed my guitar and raised the mic stand. I got the sequencer ready. I had some backing tracks, drums, bass and keyboards, to give the remaining songs a stronger foundation.

I started the sequencer and led into 'Living life in colour'. This was more Jon's style, a good rocky number. I made myself focus my gaze on him and directed the performance at him. I noticed his foot tapping as the upbeat chorus kicked in. His eyes flicked between my face and my left hand. He was reading the chords.

I moved straight into the heavier rockier feel of 'No half measures' and I really belted it out. He was now smiling openly and nodding. Again he was following my chord changes and I could see him half closing his eyes as if playing out a riff in his head. I wasn't far off the mark. When the song finished he bent down, opened his guitar case and lifted out his pride and joy. A vintage 1972 Gibson Les Paul guitar. No-one but no-one was allowed to touch, let alone play his guitar. He was obsessional about it.

"Nice guitar," I remarked.

He grinned and looked for all the world like a proud father who has just watched his son run the egg and spoon race at the school sports day. "Uhh thanks. Listen, can you play that last song again and mind if I join in. Nice feel to it."

I nodded, "Sure. It's in G." I knew rightly he was well aware of the key.

He grinned, "I know. Don't worry, I'll pick it up as we go along." He plugged his guitar into the amp and checked the sound. He fiddled with the treble and bass until he was happy with the sound.

I counted us in and restarted the sequencer. I began the verse and heard Jon play some low distorted chords. As the chorus began, he added little solo riffs between each line. I grinned over at him and he gave me a half-smile. By the second chorus he built up the riffs into more frenetic runs. Instead of singing the bridge, I shouted, "Guitar solo." And that was all he needed, he bent his right knee and his hands took off. Eyes closed in that typical 'other worldly' look of soloing guitarists he let his hands have free run of the guitar. It was amazing. We finished the song on the last chorus with him interspersing power chords with little solo runs. Playing live was always exhilarating, but there was something about playing live with someone else. In sharing the moment, the experience was doubled, not halved.

I grinned over at him, "You're not bad."

He laughed, "You're not bad either."

I smiled deprecatingly, "Oh well, I get by."

He nodded thoughtfully, "Good song. I like it."

"Thanks."

"Got any more?"

I smirked, "Well yes, but it's a little different."

He nodded, "Want to give it a try and I'll jam along?"

I shrugged, "Sure. I'll get the sequencer running, I'll not bother with the guitar myself in this one." Once the sequencer was ready, I took the mike in my hand, murmured, "Key of E," to him and started into 'I just wanna be me'.

"Feelin' the weight of others' expectations, Pushing me down, pressing around me, Building into disappointments, anger and frustrations, Why oh why can't they understand and see."

He listened and twiddled a little as he got the hang of the song. I had written it with a swing big-band feel but as he listened and started to play along, he played blues chords and runs on the blues scale. I hadn't thought about doing that at all. I would have thought it would have made the song sound disjointed, but it worked. It sounded great.

"I don't wanna be somebody elses' puppet, Don't wanna have to say yes and always agree, You're squeezing me, smothering me - why don't you just stop it Cos I just wanna be me. I'm dreamin' my own dreams, not fulfilling yours, I'm throwing off the bonds, I'm gonna be free, I'm releasing my true spirit, a spirit that endures Cos I just wanna be me."

By the last chorus, I couldn't help myself, I was strutting and striding across the stage, well OK the back room floor. As we finished Jon hit a diminished 7th and let the sound fade slowly. I laughed, "That was awesome."

"It was," he agreed.

"Oh, you're modest too?" I teased.

He smiled at me, "I was talking about you."

I blushed, "Oh err thanks."

He nodded, "You've got a great voice and I really like your writing." He let the words hang there and he stood there looking as if he was pondering something.

I interrupted him gently, "Jon, I think you'd be a fantastic addition to what we're doing. We need someone like you and from what I've seen and heard, I'm not sure that there is anyone like you."

He looked at me and inclined his head. He nodded slowly, "What's the deal?"

Jools jumped in, "Well we would have to sort out percentages and so on if you were interested."

He grinned and shook his head, "I'm not talking about money. I'm more interested in where this is all going and what part you see me playing in it." He looked back to me.

I smiled, "I see us going to the top. Making great music, enjoying every moment, a good tight band, chart records, top selling album, world tour, fame and fortune."

He laughed, "Now who's the modest one?"

I shrugged, "Got to aim high. It's not worth going for less."

He set his guitar back into its case carefully and closed the lid. Standing up he nodded slowly again, "And what about musical creativity, song writing and all that?"

I think I knew what he was getting at. I began slowly, "Jon, I think in every good band, not everyone is a song writer. It can't work like that. But I think you need more than one person to spark good writing. Speaking honestly, I would see myself doing most of the writing, but I need the input of someone else, someone who knows good music and who is prepared to tell me when things suck. I'd be keen for that person to be able to bring new ideas and songs and we could work on them and see where we go."

He looked me in the eye, "You think that person is me?"

I nodded and met his gaze, "I do."

He clenched his teeth together a few times. I recognised the sign. Deep thought in process. He tutted a few times and then nodded. He looked up sharply, "OK."

I nodded my head slowly, "OK?"

He grinned, "I came here today thinking I would humour Julie, meet some girl who thought she needed a lead guitarist, and then get out of here and back to my band. But, you've intrigued me. I like the music, I see potential and I want to be a part of it."

"But what about your band?" I asked.

He blinked, "What, you're trying to talk me out of it now?" He shook his head, "Wasn't really going anywhere to be honest. The other guys are mostly jerks. So if you still want me, I'm in."

I smiled from ear to ear, "That's great Jonboy!"

His smile disappeared and I bit my lip. "What did you call me?" he asked. I knew I had made a mistake. 'Jonboy' had been his nickname back at high school and he wasn't overly fond of it. In recent years no-one called him it and he just about tolerated me, or Nick rather, doing it. It had just slipped out without me realising it. He was staring at me intently and looked quite puzzled.

"Err," I began hesitantly, "I don't know, it just came out."

He frowned and spoke slowly, "There's only one person who has called me that in years." He looked at Jools and I could see him working it out. He looked back at me and shook his head, "I've a very strange feeling about what is happening here. What I'm thinking can't be true, can it? The person who I'm thinking of certainly has connections to Julie..." He looked closely at me and then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "I don't believe it." He knelt down and closed the last few clasps on his guitar case and picked it up and started to head for the door.

"Jon wait!" I called.

He stopped and slowly turned around, "Are you going to tell me what is going on...Nick? Or is this all some big joke that I'm not getting?"

I looked down at the floor and then looked back up at him, "It's not a joke, I will tell you, but come in and sit down. It's a long story."

He looked at me as if I had two heads, "It is you? I can't believe this, I never saw it until there now. This is crazy." But he set the guitar case down and took a seat. I nodded to Jools and to the door and she got the hint and slipped out closing the door behind her.

"What's this all about Nick? What the hell are you doing like...that?"

"Like what Jon?" I said softly.

"Well like...a woman."

I paused and tried to think of how best to approach this. I couldn't think of anything very clever so I just started talking, "Jon, I'm not like a woman. I, well, I am a woman now."

He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked at me with confusion on his face, "What you mean you've gone and well..."

I sighed, "Jon, I'm not going into details of anatomy or anything. I've decided to live as a woman. I know it sounds hard to believe, but I know this is right for me. I don't expect you to understand really."

He nodded, "Got that right. Dude are you messed up or what?"

I gave a mirthless chuckle, "Jon, look at me, do I look messed up? Seriously, look at me and tell me what you see."

He looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat, "Uhh, what?"

I looked him in the eye, "Just look at me and tell me what you see."

He lowered his gaze, "I see a woman."

"Is that all?"

He looked up at me again and screwed his nose up, "What do you want me to say? That I see a real looker? A babe? Alright, you look good. I have to admit when you came downstairs and I saw you for the first time, I was pretty well impressed. But now to find out that you're..." He shook his head. "Why are you doing this? Is it just about the music?"

"No Jon. Well yes part of it is the music. I mean you heard me sing there today, what did you think?"

This was easier territory. He shrugged, "I thought it was one of the best female voices I've heard."

I nodded. "It came as a big surprise to me too. But it's not just that. My life sucked. Took me a long time to realise it. I just didn't realise why or what was wrong. Until now."

"So what, you're saying that you like being a girl?"

I nodded, "Yes. Jon, this is me. This is who I am. I'm not going to get all highbrow and say that this is how I was always meant to be. I don't know about that, but I do know that this is who I am now."

"Well look, that's fine for you Nick..."

I interrupted, "Please stop calling me that."

He backtracked, "Sorry. Cara then if that's what you want. But if you want to do this, OK mate, go for it. But I think this is too weird for me."

"So a minute ago, you were all for signing up, but now you want out? Why? What's changed? The music? The potential?"

He shrugged, "It just doesn't feel right. It's weird."

With more intensity than I expected I leant forward, "I know it's weird. Believe me, it is weird for me too. But I'm dealing with it, can you not see past it? I mean, we've worked together in the past, we got on well didn't we? We worked well together, didn't we? Same musical leanings and ideas? So now, when you see the potential we could have working at this, why don't you want to give it a chance?"

He sighed and sat in silence for a few moments. Gently I spoke, "Jon, I never thought you would be prejudiced like this."

He shook his head, "I am not prejudiced. It's just...this is a lot." He paused, "And when exactly were you planning to tell me all this? You were going to were you?"

I nodded and rubbed my eyes, "Jon believe me, I was going to tell you."

"When? After we recorded the album? Toured the world? Or just sometime when you got round to it?"

"Today. If you agreed, I was going to tell you. I wasn't going to let you walk out of here without knowing."

He looked at me and nodded, "Alright Ni...Cara, I believe you." We sat in silence for several minutes. He shook his head again, "Shit."

"What?" I asked.

He gave a wry grin, "I really can't believe this is happening."

I prompted slowly, "You want to be a part of this don't you?"

He looked at the floor and then looked up at me and nodded, "I do. But I don't know if I can deal with this. I'm going to have to think about it."

I nodded slowly, "That's fair enough, I can appreciate that."

He stood up slowly, "Look, let me sleep on it. I'll be in touch tomorrow."

I stood and folded my arms and felt very vulnerable all of a sudden, "OK."

He half-smiled and picked up his guitar and headed for the door.

"Jon?"

He turned, "Yeah?"

"You won't tell anyone about this? It's kind of a secret as you can imagine."

He half-snorted half-chuckled, "I'll bet." He paused, "No. Either way, I'll not say a word."

I smiled, "Thanks."

He took one last look at me and shook his head, "Unbelievable." He left and said a quick goodbye to Jools before exiting to the street.

Jools came back in, "Well?"

I sighed, "Not well."

She winced, "He didn't take it well?"

I shook my head, "You could say that."

"Is he in or out?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. He's going to think about it."

----------*----------

I felt a little depressed the next day. Things hadn't gone exactly as expected with Jon. I didn't know how long it would be before he got back to me. Thankfully I didn't have to wait too long. At lunchtime, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello err Cara?"

"Hi Jon," I suddenly felt very nervous for no explicable reason.

"I umm, well was thinking about...yesterday and all..."

"Yes?"

"Look, do you want to meet up for a coffee and we'll talk, face to face?"

I hesitated, "Well sure. Where?"

"How about the Starbucks near St. Paul's? Three o'clock?"

"Sure. I'll see if that suits Jools."

"No," he said quickly, "that is, I just want to talk to you, if that's OK."

"Err alright Jon. I'll see you at three."

"OK bye."

I set the phone down. He had given no hint as to what he was thinking. I replayed the brief conversation over in my mind and decided that he wanted to see me in person to let me down gently. I sighed and shrugged. I wrangled over what to wear and eventually decided to go as I was dressed: lilac body top and blue jeans. I pulled my hair back into a pony tail and checked my make up. I looked fine. I had a feeling of dread. Ever since I had thought of putting a band together, I couldn't envisage it without Jon. As far as I was concerned, there was nobody else who could even come close to him. I had sort of thought that with us having been friends, he would have accepted me a lot easier. But I guess it was just the opposite.

I left Jools' flat just after two to give me enough time to travel in on the Tube. Where Jools lived was a lot more convenient to the city centre than where I had been living. A simple ride in on the central line brought me to St. Paul's. It was a grey cold January afternoon and although I was a little early, I headed straight for the relative warmth of Starbucks. Jon was already there at a table in the corner. I gave him a little wave and went to the counter to get a latte. He stood up as I arrived at the table. I found this a little amusing and I think he realised this. He gave me a sheepish grin as we both sat down.

"Hi Jon.

"Hi."

He sat there looking at me and didn't say anything else. I raised an eyebrow, "Speechless?"

He half shrugged, "You could say that." He stopped again.

I took a sip of my latte and set the cup down. I smiled at him, "OK, what's on your mind?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, but I had to know.

He nodded, "Well. I just wanted to meet you someplace public. Well out I mean." He frowned, "I'm not explaining myself very well. I wanted to see how you...get on." He sighed and shook his head.

I thought I understood, "You wanted to see if I still looked like and could act like a woman even out in public?"

He nodded, "Yes. I reckon that's pretty much it. I know that sounds a little lame. But I was just curious."

I permitted myself a wry smile, "And? How am I doing?"

He shifted a little in his seat, "Well, not bad I guess."

I laughed, "Oh Jon, easy on. I'll not be able to fit my head out of the door with such praise."

He smiled, "Well you know what I mean. You look...well you look good and you seem very...natural."

I nodded, "Thanks. And you wanted me to come alone to prove that I could go out by myself without support?"

He nodded and looked a little embarrassed, "Yeah."

I leaned forward and softly said, "Jon, I've been out dancing, I've been singing in front of people, I've shopped 'til I dropped, I've been living like this for some time. If you think I can't manage it or think I'll go to pieces in public, let me put your mind at rest. I'm fine, this is who I am."

He pondered this and then looked at me thoughtfully, "You know that's what makes it so hard to accept I think. If you were finding it difficult, I think I could understand better."

I paused for a moment, "It's not that I don't find it difficult at times. I do. It's not that it's plain sailing because believe me it's not. But that's life isn't it? Because something is difficult doesn't mean it's not worth doing. It's usually the opposite." I then added, "Gaining others' acceptance is one of the hardest things."

He winced, "Ouch. I probably deserved that though." He sighed, "I just can't help it though. It's not that I don't 'accept' you; I just find it hard to take in. It's not every day that one of your friends changes sex."

I grinned, "I guess you're right. But to get down to business, have you thought about things?"

He nodded slowly, "Yes, I have."

I sighed, "Am I going to have to drag it out of you bit by bit?"

He wrinkled his brow, "If I knew what I had to tell you, it would be fine. But I'm not sure."

I prompted gently, "Tell me what you are thinking."

He thought for a moment and then began, "OK. Musically I want to do it. I see the possibilities and the real chance of making it and that excites me and is something that I want to be part of." He stopped.

"There's a 'but' coming isn't there?"

He nodded, "Yes. I'm just not sure if it would work out. To be honest, it might have been better if you had never told me the truth."

I grinned, "I didn't actually tell you first off, remember you twigged to it yourself. Which was why I would have told you anyway. It wouldn't have been fair not to."

"I know," he said, "but if I didn't know, it would be a lot easier. I just find it hard to think of you as...well as a woman, as Cara. I keep thinking you are Nick and it doesn't seem right."

"Do I really remind you of Nick that much?"

"Well yes and no. You don't look much like him. Well that's an understatement. But the way you talk, your humour, your playing - there's a lot of Nick there."

I nodded and smiled, "Well, there is a lot of Nick in me you know. Is that a bad thing?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. I just don't know if I can get past that and be able to work with you well enough to make this a goer."

We both sat in silence for a few moments. I began slowly, "Look, I hear what you are saying and I think you do want to be involved in this. Yes?"

He nodded and I went on, "Well how about you give it a try. I mean, there's not much else to lose is there? You weren't happy with what you were doing."

He screwed up his nose, "Yes, but..."

I interrupted, "Why not say we'll try it for a year? Make the album, release the singles, go on tour if that materialises. If it works out, great. If not, well then we cut our losses and put it down to experience."

He still didn't look convinced, "It may not be as simple as that."

I spread my hands on the table, "Well Jon, it's your decision. I can't make it for you."

He looked at me for a few moments and then nodded reluctantly, "OK. Let's try it."

"Great," I winked, "but I want you to tone down your enthusiasm, I think you're getting a bit too excited."

He laughed, "Yeah right. OK, we'll give a shot."

We went our separate ways and I had told him that I'd give him a call in a few days so we could start to look for other band members and begin to work on the songs. He was going to let the members of his band know he was leaving although he would honour the gigs they already had booked for the next month or so. As I returned home, I had mixed feelings. I was glad that Jon was in, but couldn't quite fathom his reticence.

----------*----------

"Cara, are you paying attention?" Jools asked pointedly.

"Umm, yes?" I said absent-mindedly. We were sitting at Jools' kitchen table and she was going through contract details. I had been day dreaming.

"No you weren't," she said indignantly.

I grinned, "OK, sorry. I guess my mind drifted off a bit."

Jools sighed, "It is important you know."

"I know, I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

Jools shrugged, "Well look basically, I've checked through the contract and got a solicitor to have a quick look at it and it all seems in order. I think we should sign and get it back to Sony."

I nodded, "Was the solicitor expensive?"

She looked at me, "This from the girl who blows fifteen grand on a car?"

I smiled, "OK, point taken. Right then, where do I sign?"

"Don't you want me to go over the details with you?"

I shrugged, "I wouldn't understand the half of it, and if you think it is alright, I'm happy. Isn't that what a good manager is for?"

Jools nodded, "Well yes."

I interrupted, "Well then, where do I sign?"

She sighed and pushed it over, "Just there. I'll sign above as your representative."

I signed it and Jools signed above mine. She said, "Now, that's not all contractual details sorted. We need to sort out a contract between me, you and the band."

"We do?"

She nodded, "Yes, your income will be paid to CMA and we need to formalise our arrangements."

CMA was Carstairs' Music Agency, the name Jools operated under. "Uhh ok," I added intelligently.

She smiled, "You don't want me running off with all your money do you?"

I laughed, "True, couldn't trust you as far as I could throw you. So what do we do about a contract?"

Jools winked, "I just happen to have prepared a draft version."

I grinned, "Why does that not surprise me?"

Jools smiled beatifically, "That's what you pay me for. So here, you have to read this one."

I groaned and took the document. It was three pages of text and then several extra sheets for signatures. I read through it. A lot of legal type language but I was able to follow it for the most part. It all seemed fairly straightforward to me. There were some blanks on the sheets for signing. I mentioned this, "Jools, there are blanks here where I think there should be some names and percentages."

She nodded, "Yes, well we need the other band members' names to fill in their parts and we need to discuss the percentages."

I nodded, "Well what do you think Jools?"

She wrinkled her nose, "Well it's really for you to decide."

I shrugged, "How much should you get?"

She looked uncomfortable, "Well the standard figure would be ten percent."

I nodded, "Are you happy enough with that?"

"Yes, of course I am."

I nodded, "Well then ten percent it is. What about the rest?"

"How many band members are we looking at?"

I thought aloud, "Me, Jon, a drummer, a bass guitarist and a keyboard player most likely."

"How do you want to split it?" she asked.

Now I felt a little uncomfortable, "I don't know. I suppose I should get more than an even share?"

"Hell yes!" she exclaimed, "You should get the majority of it, I mean you are the named artist. I would think you should take fifty percent and split the rest between the band, ten percent each."

I chewed my lip and thought about it, "I'll take forty percent, twenty percent for Jon and ten percent for the others whoever they turn out to be. Does that sound OK?"

She nodded, "That's fine if that's the way you want to do it. Why give Jon twenty though?"

I shrugged, "I see him as playing a more important role than just another band member."

She seemed happy with that and we signed our respective parts. We would have to get Jon and the future band members to sign their parts at a later date. Thankfully that seemed to be all the bureaucracy that was required at present. Jools headed out to drop the contract in to Sony in person. I was going to go with her but she told me that stars didn't drop in their own contracts and this was what I was paying her for. She thought we would have the advance within a few days. This was good as I had a car to pay for at the end of the next week. My poor maths was able to cope with working out forty percent of one hundred grand. After paying for the car I would still have twenty-five thousand left. It was hard for me to comprehend such an amount. It was strange to not have to think about where I was going to get money from or how I was going to make ends meet. Yet I had a strange nagging feeling that I should be doing something work wise in the meantime. I wasn't quite sure what I was thinking. I would have to try and sort my thoughts out.

----------*----------

CHAPTER 15

Jon called over on Thursday morning. He brought his guitar, of course. I had wanted to talk about other potential band members, but he wanted to play some songs first.

"Let's just try out some of your songs. Let me get a feel for them. It will get me in the mood and then we can think about the band."

"OK, what do you want to try first?" I asked.

He wanted to try the songs he had played along with so we went through 'No half measures'. We played it over and over until he was happy. Jon was a bit of a perfectionist like me. He believed in knowing a song backwards. It was a little tedious for me after a while. Having written the song, I already knew it inside out, but he wanted to finalise his runs and riffs. We wrote room for a guitar solo into the song and he made me play the backing chords for the solo over and over again whilst he experimented, changed and corrected what he was doing. At last he seemed happy, but wanted to go over it several more times until he was sure he had it in his head.

"Jon, not again," I groaned.

He grinned at me, "One more time."

"That's what you have said the last five times!"

He shrugged, "Come on, humour me."

I did. And he actually did seem happy enough this time. We moved on to 'I just wanna be me' and went through the same procedure. I resigned myself to playing this endlessly whilst he perfected his runs. They sounded fine to me after the first few times, but not good enough for him. I was tempted to leave the sequencer on repeat and leave him to it. But I knew he worked better with live playing of a song. He said that I had to sing it so he got the real feel of it. I didn't exactly give the vocal performances quite my best as it would have tired my voice out with the endless repetition. We moved on to 'Living life in colour' and gave it the same treatment. Although I was getting weary with the whole procedure, I had to admit that Jon was bringing a totally new dimension to the songs. A different perspective, a different ear. It made the difference between a good song and a brilliant song. It was quite exciting.

"Can we try another song?" he asked.

"Jon, no. I'm exhausted and hungry. It's way past lunchtime and we need to talk about the band," I pouted.

He raised an eyebrow and smiled a little, "Don't pout at me. I'm immune to your charms remember?"

I put my hands on my hips, inclined my head and batted my eyelids, "Is that so?"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Now don't get weird on me. Alright, let's break then."

I led the way upstairs into the kitchen. I made some coffee and some sandwiches. As I turned around, I noticed him looking at me. "What?" I asked.

He looked awkward and shrugged, "Nothing."

"No come on." I looked at him and waited for him to answer.

He sighed and waved a hand, "I was just wondering why you had to dress so...well...I don't know...provocatively. It's not exactly making it easy for me to you know adjust to the new you."

I was wearing a black rib-knit top and my short checked miniskirt. I sat down and smiled, "Jon. I'm not trying to make things difficult. This is me. It's how I like to dress." I paused, "And you know, well when we play or do publicity stuff as a band eventually, I've no illusions as to the kind of wardrobe and look that the PR people are going to want to go with if you know what I mean."

He nodded his head from side to side, "Yeah OK. I'll just have to deal with it." He looked at me, "Are you sure you're comfortable with this? I mean, are you sure this isn't just a phase or something?"

I laughed, "Yes, I'm sure. You sound like my mother."

He raised his eyebrows as the realisation just hit him, "You've told your parents. Yes I suppose you would have. Wow. How'd that go?"

I grimaced, "Not good. Difficult."

"Did they...well accept it?"

I shrugged, "Not really. I made it clear they would have to though. I think they accepted that this was what was happening, but they don't approve at all. Made for a nice family Christmas."

He took a bit of his sandwich, "I'm sure it was a real party. As long as you're sure you can go through with all this." He paused, "I mean, just what you were saying about the PR stuff, you do know what the reaction to you is going to be?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"The male reaction. I mean, looking like you do and the way you'll be marketed, you're going to draw more than your fair share of male attention. How do you feel about that?"

I shrugged, "I know it's a possibility, but I haven't really thought about it. I'll deal with it if it arises."

He nodded slowly and began hesitantly, "It might be none of my business..." He stopped, "Never mind."

"No go on," I prompted.

He took a deep breath, "I was just wondering, what with you being a woman and all now, well are you into...I mean do you like..."

"Do I fancy guys?" I completed the question for him.

He looked embarrassed, "Uhh yeah, something like that."

I shook my head, "No. I don't. It's not really an issue." I said it confidently and I felt I believed it. I wasn't going to be messing about any more. In control.

He smiled bashfully, "OK, sorry for prying."

I waved a hand, "Don't sweat it. It's only natural for you to ask and you're not the first to ask. Now band members!"

He grinned, "OK. Well first thing I had thought of was drums. Kevin Noble is doing a few gigs with a band called 'Homeland' but I don't think they are really going anywhere."

"Kevin Noble," I mused, "Do I know him?"

"Course you do. Small guy, wiry. Used to play with me when we were both in 'Rainbow's end'."

I clicked my fingers, "Yes I remember now. He's quite good isn't he?"

Jon nodded, "Getting better all the time. Last time I heard him, I was very impressed. He's a decent bloke too."

"Can you get in touch with him?"

He nodded, "I think so. I've got his number somewhere. I'll look it out and give him a shout."

"For bass guitarist, I was thinking of someone. What do you call him?" I shook my head, "It'll come to me. He played in that charity gig a few years back: Blues for Bosnia."

Jon nodded and closed his eyes, "Yes, I know who you mean. Ack what's his name?"

I took a deep breath, "Brian someone I think."

Jon nodded, "Brian Garrett."

"That's it! I wonder where he is now."

Jon blew out his cheeks, "He hasn't been around the band circuit that I've seen. Wasn't he doing some session music?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. How can we track him down?"

Jon grinned, "Tell Jools to get on it, she's resourceful."

I laughed, "I think I'll do just that."

"Owen Robinson," Jon said.

"Hmm? Oh for keyboards?" I replied.

He nodded, "He's good, versatile and dead on."

I nodded slowly, "OK, sounds reasonable. What's he up to?"

Jon rubbed his eyes, "Not sure. In some band somewhere. He's friendly with a mate of mine; I'll ring him and see if he knows where Owen is these days."

"Right well that sounds like we have enough to be going on with. Oh before I forget, I need to get you to sign this contract." I brought over the contract sheet with Jon's name on it and gave it to him. He read through it and nodded.

"Sounds OK to me," he said.

"You happy enough? You get twenty percent of the profits?"

He nodded, "Yes that's fine. It's not really about the money, but twenty percent of whatever is going to be a lot more than what I'm getting now isn't it?"

I nodded, "It is. Once the advance comes through, you'll get your first paycheque."

He grinned, "How much?"

"For you?" I shrugged and casually continued, "Oh a mere twenty grand."

He nearly fell off his seat. He laughed, "Twenty grand? What will I do with that?"

I laughed too, "What you want me to take you shopping to spend it?"

He grimaced, "No, it's OK. I'm sure I'll manage.

----------*----------

It was a couple of days before resourceful Jools managed to get a contact number for Brian Garrett and it was the middle of the next week before I managed to get him in. Jools had suggested she ring him, but I was getting a little bored and wanted something to do. I had to remember that he wouldn't know me and had to be careful not to give myself away. I hadn't really known him at all as Nick though.

"Hi is that Brian?"

"Yep, who's that?"

"Brian, my name is Cara Malone. You won't know me. I've heard you play once or twice before but we've never met. I'm a singer/songwriter and I'm putting a band together and I was wondering if you might be interested."

"Uh huh? What are you planning to do? Anyone else involved?"

"Well, you may know the lead guitarist, Jon Peters?"

"Yes, I know of him. Talented guy." He paused. I needed to pique his interest.

"Well, I've got a recording contract with Sony and I need a band together before we hit the studio to record the singles and first album."

"Really?" he sounded more interested now, "What's the deal?"

"Well, why don't you come round sometime soon, bring your bass and we'll play some of the material. You can see what you think and we can talk about details?"

"Sure, when?"

"Let me check with Jon and get back to you on that."

I eventually got hold of Jon later that night and caught up with how he had been getting on. He'd spoken to Kevin and he sounded interested enough to come round and see what we were up to. Jon had suggested Saturday afternoon, a few days away. He had talked to Owen Robinson but he wasn't interested. Even when Jon stressed we had a recording contract, he didn't want to know. Apparently he was trying to get a break as a singer himself. I sympathised as I knew all about that and would probably have done the same had I been in his place. Jon and I talked, but couldn't think of any other decent keyboard players at the moment. I rang Brian back and he agreed to come round on Saturday afternoon.

----------*----------

The money had now come through from Sony and Jools had arranged the transfer of my share and Jon's to our respective accounts. I had set myself up with a new bank account and credit cards under the name of Nicola Evans. When going into the branch, I had had the irrational fear that the assistant manager who was dealing with me would press the alarm bells and declare my ID fake. But that didn't happen of course. And so it was that on Saturday morning, Jools drove me over to the MG showroom to pick up my new car. It was strange to write a cheque for fifteen grand just like that and it was hard to believe that the shiny silver convertible was now mine. I drove back to Jools' apartment but took the 'scenic' route. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to take my new wheels for a spin. It was a delight to drive. I fell in love instantly. I arrived back at Jools' place and parked it outside. I ran my hand over the bonnet and let it linger on the shiny bodywork. It seemed almost a shame to leave it outside. I felt like jumping back in and just driving and driving with the top down. But since it was a drizzly wet winter's day and since Jon, Kevin and Brian were coming over that afternoon, I had to put my plans on hold.

Jon arrived with Kevin just after lunch. Kevin was lugging his drum kit in. My instinctive reaction was to help him and Jon carry it in until Jon politely reminded me that the men could handle it. He made the introductions, "Kevin Noble, meet Cara Malone."

I smiled and shook his hand, "Hi Kevin, glad you could come over." Kevin was about my height and not at all well built. He had short brown hair and glasses and looked if anything, more like an accountant than a rock drummer. He had a sort of nervous energy about him and never seemed to stand still. He was always moving, be it his hands or shifting from one foot to the other.

"Hi Cara," he replied, "Delighted to be here. Jon had to twist my arm a little to get me to come, but if he had told me how lovely you were, I'd have agreed straight off." He sniggered nervously.

I laughed self-consciously and changed the subject, "Thanks. Look if you want to set up at the back of the room there, Brian Garrett, our potential bass guitarist should be arriving soon."

Kevin set up and in the way that all drummers do, immediately set about beating his drums incessantly. And very loudly. Jon picked up his guitar and went into 'spaced out guitar solo' mood. I barely heard the doorbell fifteen minutes later. It was Brian.

"Hello, Brian?"

The tall short black haired man nodded and gave a rueful smile, "That's me. You're Cara Malone?"

I grinned and nodded, "Sure am, come on in."

He came in and set his guitar case and small bass amp down. "Sorry for the noise from the rowdy boys. I'm glad you could come."

He shrugged, "No problem." Silence. He wasn't one for many words it seemed.

"Err well, do you want to come in and meet the others?"

We walked into the back room and it was all I could do to get their attention, "Jon! Kevin!" At last it registered with them and they stopped. Well Kevin seemed to keep some sort of beat going quietly in the background with the bass drum. I made the introductions and explained that both Kevin and Brian had come to see what we were at and see if they were interested. Jon and I had decided we would run through the three songs we had worked on last time. I got my semi-acoustic guitar and adjusted the mike stand. Jon was ready to go and we launched into 'No half measures'. Kevin of course immediately joined in with the beat and began to build up the rhythm. I sang as forcefully as I could, wanting to make a good impression. Brian stood to the side initially looking impassive. After the first chorus, he slowly bent down, opened his guitar case and lifted it out. He plugged in his amp and plugged the bass into it, adjusted his volume and then nonchalantly joined in. He had got the basic gist of the chord progression and added a simple bass line. Jon launched into his impressive guitar solo. I could hear both Kevin and Brian improvising a little and doing some experimentation. We brought the song to a close. That is Jon, Brian and I stopped, but Kevin kept hammering away for a bar or two. He stopped, "Oh sorry. Didn't realise we were done." He smiled nervously and then nodded a few times, "I liked that. Can we do it again?"

I grinned. His enthusiasm was quite infectious. I looked over to Brian, "Happy enough with it? Got the basic idea?"

He nodded, "Yep. Reckon so."

That was all I was going to get out of him so I shrugged and counted us in again. We played it through a couple of times. It got tighter each time. It was that unquantifiable situation where the total energy a band created was greater than the sum of the individual parts. I was buzzing. But I was also a little nervous as to what the two potential band members were thinking. We ran through 'Living life in colour' several times until Kevin and Brian got the hang of it. It didn't take them long. They were certainly talented and quick on the uptake. I laid my guitar down for 'I just wanna be me' and taking my mike in hand, began to roam around the room as I pouted and smiled my way through it. Again after a few times through it, it was sounding really good. Kevin had taken brushes and given it a real swing beat. Brian had taken his cue from Jon and added a blues bass line to it. I loved how it sounded.

"It sounds really good guys," I complimented.

Kevin was nodding up and down, "I like it. Did you write all these? Good songs. Like them. Variety. Good rhythm."

I grinned and looked over at Brian, "Brian, what do you think?"

He paused and pursed his lips and then slowly nodded, "Yep, good."

I hesitated, but that was all that was forthcoming, "Ah OK." I didn't know what to say next.

Jon spoke up, "Cara, play your love song."

I screwed up my face, "Don't call it that."

He shrugged, "I can't remember the name of it. Anyways it is a love song isn't it?"

I sighed, "Well I guess. I presume you are talking about 'Not dancing, but flying'?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Guys, come on over to the keyboard and listen to this."

I felt a bit intimidated as they all stood over me, but I tried to put them out of my head as I started the arpeggio style introduction. I closed my eyes and let the music slowly absorb me as I sang. I didn't have to put it on. The emotion of singing this song seemed to come naturally every time I played it. When I finished I looked up and smiled a little sheepishly, "I know it's a bit soppy and not quite a real rock song..."

Brian actually gave the hint of a smile, "Nice though."

I took this as praise indeed. Kevin was bouncing on his toes again, "Yeah, cracker. Great voice Cara, love it."

I decided to take this as the opportunity, "Well Kevin and Brian, you've heard some of what we are doing. Speaking for myself, I'd be keen to have you both aboard. You've both certainly got the talent and skills that we are looking for. What do you think?"

Kevin predictably was the first to answer, "Sure thing. I'm in. Things are sort of going nowhere with my current band."

I smiled, "That's great Kevin." I looked up at Brian, his expression gave no clues, "Brian?"

He nodded slowly and frowned, "Yes OK."

I felt I needed a little more confirmation, "You mean you want in."

He nodded, "Yep." That was all I was going to get.

"Well...OK...great," I smiled.

I heard a clearing of throat from the doorway. It was Jools. She spoke up, "Did I just hear that we have two new band members?"

I made the introductions and explained that Jools was our manager. Jools brought in the contracts and let Kevin and Brian read them. Kevin seemed to skim through it and then sign it without much attention and give it back. Brian however took about ten minutes reading it through a few times. He asked Jools a few short questions and then signed it.

"Thank you gentlemen," she said all business-like. "Now, we have received an advance from Sony and in accordance with the terms of your contracts, you are eligible for ten percent each. Would you like the cheques now?"

They both answered in the affirmative. Kevin expressively so and Brian quite passively so. They were quite a contrast. Jools handed them their cheques.

Kevin swore, "Holy..." He laughed and held up the cheque, "Unbelievable, this is great."

Brian's eyebrows actually rose in what was the most expressive facial movement I had seen from him yet. He didn't say anything but just pocketed the cheque.

"Thanks guys again for coming over," I said. "My plan would be that Jon and I work on some more songs over the next month or two and then we all get together for a few weeks solid before we go into the studio and work on the songs together. So I guess with your cheques, you've got several weeks of paid holidays between now and then. We are still short a keyboard player. Do either of you two have any suggestions?"

Brian shrugged, "Colin Henderson?"

Jon vaguely knew of him and Brian gave him the telephone number. Kevin thought, "Well there's Jeremy Patterson, but he may not be available." He thought again and began a little more hesitantly, "And I guess there is Noel Dawson."

Jon frowned, "Doesn't he have a bit of a problem with the drink?"

Kevin shrugged, "Word is he's been dry for a year now. Good enough player."

Jon nodded, "Well I'll work on those contacts and see what turns up."

Brian and Kevin packed up and said their goodbyes. Kevin's being more vocal than Brian's. After they had left, I grinned at Jon, "It sounded good. I think it's coming together."

He smiled at me, "I think you're right." He paused, "So we've got to get some more songs written then?"

I nodded, "Hope you've got some inspiration inside you somewhere."

He grinned, "Guess we'll have to find out."

----------*----------

I was still in the habit of getting up early each morning and going for a run. I had tried to persuade Jools to keep up with the fitness routine but, out of the reaches of Beth, she had regressed to her usual non-exercising, lying-in-bed morning routine. She resisted all my efforts to cajole her into joining me. She saw no attraction in getting up on damp grey winter's mornings to go out and 'freeze her ass off' as she put it. Me? I was getting addicted. I never thought it could happen to me, but it had. I loved the feeling of being up and out before the world awoke and having the fresh morning air nearly all to myself. Most mornings I headed out around 7 a.m. and ran about a half mile to the north and entered Wormholt Park. It wasn't the most beautiful of green spaces, but it was green and relatively free of the carbon monoxide that started to build up from London's commuters before long. I would do several circuits of the park, trying to either aim to do each circuit in less time than the one before or to do more and more circuits compared to previous mornings. That was where I met Kate. For a few mornings in a row, I had noticed that I didn't have the park to myself. There was a tall redhead running circuits also. It was Tuesday morning when we finally talked. I had stopped for a breather after ten hard circuits of the park and she jogged over to where I was stretching my calf muscles on a park bench.

"Hi," she said breathlessly.

"Hi," I grinned.

"You've been running in my park," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Your park?" I said amusedly as I looked up.

She nodded, "I've had to myself for years and now you show up. I'm Kate."

I grinned and stood up straight, "I'm Cara." Kate was tall. About 5' 10" I reckoned, with shoulder length ginger hair. Strawberry blonde she called it as she later told me. She was bright-eyed and looked to be in good shape. She had a pointy nose and a quirky little mouth which created an overall very attractive impression.

"Pleased to meet you Cara. So you new here or what?"

I shrugged, "Yes. I'm staying with a friend nearby 'til I get my own place sorted out."

We chatted a bit more. Kate was a personal assistant in the city to some big-shot ego corporate manager as she described him. I got the impression that she didn't think much of him. This was fairly well confirmed when she called him an 'ass-grabbing lecherous toad' a few moments later. When she asked me what I did, I told her I was a musician. She was very interested and wanted to know more. I tried to shrug it off and told her I was trying to get a band together to see what would happen. We parted company before long and she said she was sure she would see me about.

She was right. Our schedules seemed to run fairly close as more often than not, I would see Kate doing her circuits faithfully each morning. We began to run around together. This was good at times as the competition of someone to run against kept us going. At other times it wasn't as good as our pace dropped off because we focussed more on chatting than running. I liked Kate. She was amusing, irreverent and had an aura of fun about her. I would laugh until I had to stop running at the stories of office life that she regaled me with. I had very little to tell her in return as most of the interesting parts of my life at present weren't for public consumption. I appreciated the company. I wasn't quite sure why, but when I thought about it, it was probably because Kate was the one person that I was chatting to these days who took me at face value. She didn't know my 'dark secret' and it was refreshing for me to have the opportunity to get to know someone by myself as Cara without all the extra baggage that I was carrying around in the rest of my life. I valued my morning exercise times all the more for it.

----------*----------

Jon had been coming over most days with his guitar. He arrived mid morning as he was another non-morning person. He found it hard to believe the change in my approach to the mornings. In fact he refused to believe it until Jools confirmed it for him. He had thought I was just winding him up. Things were still awkward between us. In a sense, the atmosphere was most relaxed when we were playing. When he had his guitar in hand, and I was singing with either my guitar or keyboards, it was as if the difficulties evaporated and a higher level of communication was achieved. We spent a lot of time playing. Not that much of it was extremely productive. But it was more about establishing a musical relationship where I knew what he was thinking and vice versa. It had been the same a few years back when we were playing together and it was coming back again now. It was that almost telepathic anticipation of knowing where the other person is going to take the song, what they will do next and going with them, taking the music to the next stage. Truly empathic. It was what I loved about playing with other people. I realised how stale my music had become over the last eighteen months. Playing solely by myself, the energy had dissipated, the force had gone from it. I hadn't seen it as it was a gradual process, but now I saw it clearly. Jon enjoyed it too. I could see that. Often we would just pick a key and jam and improvise. We would solo one after another, him on guitar, me on keyboards until we would bring the piece to a climactic end in a tight sharp ending.

I grinned, "You just can't beat this, can you?"

He laughed and wiped his brow, "Nah, it's something else isn't it? It almost beats sex."

I didn't quite know how to respond to this. Jon had said similar things like this in the past. As I frantically tried to think of an appropriate light-hearted retort to avoid the moment becoming awkward, the moment overtook me.

"Uhh sorry," Jon apologised, "well I didn't sort of like meant that."

I shrugged, "Don't sweat it. I know what you mean."

But it was too late. We were back into our shells and Jon would hardly look at me. It was the same each day when we would stop for lunch. Conversation was stilted with him rarely making eye contact. I had to try and almost distract him away from the present. At times it worked. We would laugh over old school stories, people we both remembered, people we liked, people we loathed. We would talk about other bands, who was good, who was crap. At times, it was almost like it had been. Almost. But then that imperceptible barrier between us would creep down like fog rolling down into a valley from the mountains. It was frustrating. The result was that we spent more and more time playing and less talking. This had benefits in that we were fast becoming of one musical mind. I guess I pretended that these benefits made the lack of real communication alright. But I knew it wasn't true.

Over lunch the following Monday I decided to confront the issue. Jon was doing his staring into space, not looking at or talking to me thing as we ate our sandwiches.

"Jon, it can't go on like this?"

"Like what?"

"You know what I mean."

He just shrugged, "What?"

I sighed, "What's wrong? When we're playing and singing, we're really connecting, I mean it is just clicking right into the groove. But when we're not, it's as if we're strangers. What is it?"

He shrugged again and for a moment didn't say anything. He dragged his eyes from the floor and looked at me. He turned round towards me and placed his elbows on the table. "Cara I just don't know how to be with you."

I was puzzled, "What do you mean?"

He frowned, "I just don't know how to talk to you, how to get on with you. Sure I can play guitar with you, it's almost like a reflex, doesn't require any thought. But I don't know if you're a friend, a mate, an acquaintance, a colleague whatever."

I think I understood what he was getting at, but I felt hurt nonetheless. I shook my head, "I thought we were friends Jon?" I tried to keep my voice from sounding pained but it sounded a little whiny despite my best efforts.

He looked me in the eye and nodded, "We were friends. Nick was my friend." He paused and shrugged, "You're not Nick. I guess what I'm saying is, I don't really know who you are. I don't really know you."

We sat in silence for a few moments, "OK. I think I understand. But you know it is still really me. Not that much has changed."

He raised an eyebrow as if to say 'yeah right'. I continued, "Well OK, a lot has changed. But what can we do to deal with this?"

He sighed, "I'm open to suggestions."

Softly I replied, "Are you?"

He whipped his head around, "What's that supposed to mean?"

I sat back a little, "I don't know Jon. I just wonder at times if you really do want to make the effort or if it is more comfortable for you to pretend there's no problem, almost pretend I'm not here."

"That's crap and you know it. Alright then, what do you have in mind?"

I thought for a moment, "OK, if you feel you don't really know me. Why not just get to know me? What do you do when you don't know someone? Chat, talk, and tell them about yourself? Why not start again?"

He nodded slowly and then wrinkled his brow, "It's all very well saying that. Easier said than done though. I just don't know how to treat you, how to act."

"Huh?" I asked for clarification.

"Well like, if you were a mate, I'd know how to act and get on, but if you're a girl I met, things would be different. I don't know where you fit in."

His words were seemingly innocuous, but they struck home with me. Where I fit in? He was right. If I could barely answer that question, what right had I to expect him to? Although I was enjoying the feelings and sensations of being the new me, there were a lot of things I hadn't come to terms with. I was still living in a relatively sheltered environment. I hadn't much of a clue about how Cara felt about certain things. If I didn't really know who I was, good luck to the rest of the world in working it out. Answers on a postcard please. I was staring into space and Jon interrupted me.

"You OK?"

"Mmm?" I said as I refocused, "Oh yeah, I'm fine."

"What is it?" he gently prompted.

I was about to make a glib reply that it was nothing, but if I expected him to be more open with me, it would half to work both ways. "Oh it's just that you are right. I don't know where I fit in either. I know on the outside I look the part and all, but being honest Jon, sometimes when it's just me, inside, I'm scared. I don't think I've done the wrong thing; I'm just not sure where it's all going. In a sense, having the record deal and all makes it all the more scary. There's a timetable operating here that means I have to work it out and sort it out fast. I haven't the luxury of being able to sit back and find myself. So it's no wonder you find it difficult to talk to me also. What else can I expect?"

He nodded slowly as he took it in. "I never thought of it like that," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He shrugged, "I never thought about how you felt about all this. I was being selfish. I was just thinking about how difficult I thought all this was. I mean when I look at you, you look so together. You put on a hell of a good front!"

I laughed, "Is that a compliment?"

He grinned, "As close as I can manage at the moment."

He held out a hand towards me.

I wrinkled my forehead, "What?"

"Hi, I'm Jon Peters," he said.

I laughed and took his hand and he shook it.

He smiled, "I can't promise I'll not be a jerk any more, but let's give it a shot."

"Deal," I said.

"So any other ideas on how we can sort this mess out?" he asked.

I shrugged, "Well, we could try and interact on a normal social basis. Any good bands playing these days or anything?"

He shifted a little awkwardly in his seat, "We-ell, I was going to go down to the Santa Barbara on Wednesday night to hear 'Loud as Life'."

I brightened, "Sounds good."

He hesitated, "Erm, well I was going to go with some of the guys from the old band."

I read between the lines and tried to hide my disappointment, "Oh right, I see. Well never mind. Another time. Let's get back to some playing?"

I stood up and he slowly stood also, "Look. OK." I stopped and turned round as he went on, "Sure come along with me."

I shrugged, "You sure, I mean if you're not happy with it, I don't want to make things worse."

He shook his head and more firmly said, "No. Come along, you're right. We should just be normal and do things that friends do." He winced, "It's just that..."

"Just what?"

He grinned ruefully, "Never mind. Doesn't matter."

----------*----------

I had been continuing to take the hormones and the changes were progressing. My skin was very soft now and that wasn't changing any further, but I continued to notice changes in my figure and my moods. The former was pretty much pleasing, the latter was a pain. I had noticed that my waist was definitely narrower. I was rarely wearing my corset these days. A combination of the hormones, healthy eating, exercise and the long weeks of corset wearing had left me with a trim 26 inch waist. I was quite proud of it. As my waist had narrowed, my hips had correspondingly continued to swell. I was nowhere near the stage where I would be getting paranoid that my hips and my bum were too big, but I did like to think I had better curves than I had had previously. And as for my chest? It was full steam ahead. It was becoming increasingly difficult and more uncomfortable to wear my breast forms. It was a bit of a tricky situation. My own breasts were growing and developing. My nipples were becoming more sensitive. It felt so strange to stand in front of the mirror and look at them and hold them in my hands. But kind of nice too. I think I was somewhere approaching a B cup now, but I couldn't be sure. The problem was that when I put my breast forms into my bra as well, with the reduction in space in my bra, the forms compressed my own breasts and caused growing discomfort. But what could I do? Not wear the forms and suddenly have to explain to everyone what happened to my previously full bosom? These things were playing on my mind as I had my second appointment with Dr. Carson in a few days time on Thursday. I knew there was a solution to this problem and my mouth went dry as I thought about it. I would have to make a decision though.

I had adjusted quite well to my feminine appearance. I could quite honestly say I liked the way I looked. I mean who wouldn't like being attractive? I liked my visage, my figure and the clothes I could wear. But I was realising there was more to being a woman than looking like a woman, talking like a woman and acting like a woman. It reminded me of that conversation at my old kitchen table with Jools. It seemed like years ago, but in reality it was only a few months back. Then when I had worked through the implications of what this step would mean I had realised that it meant looking like, talking like, acting like but also actually being a woman. The first three I thought I had licked now. The problem was that I had no idea how to manage the fourth aspect. I had thought it would sort of naturally follow on, but I was finding that it wasn't quite that easy. I could put on the good front as Jon called it. I could do it perfectly outwardly. But what about inwardly? Who was I when there was no-one else around? Physically I was woman. But mentally? Emotionally? Even spiritually? Was I Nick in Cara's body, or was I really Nicola underneath it all? I supposed that it was only natural to have some doubts. But I didn't feel that I could talk about it with anyone. I had to present the assuredness and confidence in what I was doing. Had I done it so well that I had bluffed myself? I didn't really think so.

One of the strange things was my dreams. They were a mixture of realities, when I remembered them. Sometimes in my dreams I was still Nick, other times I was Nicola/Cara. I don't know if it was a subconscious projection of my fears, but when I was Cara, the dreams tended to turn into nightmares. The usual chasing scenes where you run away from something you never see. The fear of course was that I would be exposed for a fraud. I knew it was silly, but it did bother me at times. However in the cold hard light of day, when I rationally tried to think clearly, when hormones weren't ravaging my emotions too much, I still felt I was doing the right thing and taking the right path. I needed to know this because as each day passed, I moved further and further away from Nick and became more and more of this new person. I suppose it was only natural not to know exactly who I was yet or what I would be like at the end of it all. But it wasn't easy. I decided to put all this over introspection out of my head and focus my mind on something much more practical: what was I going to wear on Wednesday night?

----------*----------

"Hi Claire," I said as she answered the phone at the other end.

"Oh hi...Nic-ola. How are you?" she said brightly after a moment's initial hesitation.

"Pretty good, you?"

"I'm fine. Work sucks, it's January, but apart from that, grand. What have you been up to?"

"Well trying to put a band together I suppose," I replied.

"How's it going? Anyone good? Anyone I know?"

"Yeah, not too bad. They are all pretty good. We still need a keyboard player though. Only one you might remember is Jon Peters."

"Jon Peters," a pause, "Wait wasn't he originally from Pembroke? In your class at school once?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Wow. Isn't that a bit weird? What if he finds out about you know...you?"

"He knows."

"You told him?"

"He worked it out, but I would have told him."

"Is he OK with it?" she asked.

"Umm, hard to say. Things aren't exactly peachy, but we'll sort it out I guess. Anyway, how're Mum and Dad?"

"You should phone them yourself Nicola."

"I know, I will. Have you been talking to them?"

She sighed, "Yes. If you want to know if they have suddenly taken a shine to the fact that they seem to have a new daughter, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you."

"Yeah, well I hadn't really been counting on that. Are they keeping OK?"

"Oh they're fine. Do keep in touch with them though. I know it is hard but I think it will be better in the long run."

"I know, I will."

I think she sensed some hesitation in my voice. "Nicola? Are you alright?"

"Yes I'm fine."

"Is there anything else?"

I tried to make a joke of it, "What trying to get your only sister off the phone?"

She laughed, "No, it's just that you sounded as if you had something else to say."

I had. She was right as always. "No, nothing else. Just wanted to say 'hi' and keep in touch."

She didn't sound convinced but she let it lie, "Well OK. Listen, take care of yourself and don't do anything stupid you hear?"

I grinned, "Yes big sis. I'll ring you again sometime soon. Love you."

"Love you too."

----------*----------

Wednesday evening came and I was patiently waiting for Jon to pick me up. I had had extreme outfit doubts all afternoon and was presently in my fourth option. I had swung between over dressed to over casual having gone from a little red dress to blouse and jeans. Finally I had settled on a white rib-knit body top and my denim miniskirt and black leather boots. I was sort of nervous about the approaching evening. Not because I was worried about going out as I was or meeting people or anything like that. I was more worried about how Jon would react. I checked my watch. He was late. The phone rang: it was Jon.

"Umm Cara, listen my crappy car seems to have died on me and I can't get it started."

"Oh I see," I paused. I tried to make sure my voice sounded amused, "So is this your excuse for standing me up or do you want me to come pick you up?"

He laughed, "Don't be silly. Get in your car and make it quick. If you don't mind?"

"Mind? An excuse to take my baby for a drive? Not a problem."

I think he took me up slightly wrong. He sounded a little worried, "Err your baby?"

I laughed, "Jon, I'm talking about my car. Sorry to disappoint you."

He laughed and sounded relieved, "Oh gotcha. See you soon."

I checked my appearance in the hall mirror as I grabbed my black suede jacket. Hair and make up looking good. I grabbed my keys and headed out. 'My baby' was sitting waiting for me and as always it was a joy to feel the finely tuned engine respond to my every command. Jon shared a house with a few guys in the Camden area. It was about 5 miles away and at this time of the evening, it was only about a ten minute journey. I did it in seven.

Having beeped my horn a few times with no response, I parked at the side of the road and went up and rang the doorbell a few times. A few minutes later, the door opened and a black haired guy looked out, "Hello?" He looked at me and then opened the door wider. "Well hello," he smiled.

I smiled a little unsurely, "Umm, is Jon Peters there?"

His expression fell a little, "Ah yeah. Sure come on in."

I waited at the bottom of the stairs while he bounded up them to get Jon. I realised why the horn pumping had been ineffective. The sounds of heavy guitar music were permeating the house. Jon came down the stairs with the guy who had let me in. They were talking and I picked up some of it. Jon looked irritated and hissed at him, "Yeah look sure, I'll see what I can do."

He turned his attention to me and blinked, "Hey Cara."

I smiled, "Hi Jon, ready to go?"

"Sure, let's split."

When we got into the car, I asked him about what his housemate had said. Jon laughed, "You don't want to know."

I grinned and throwing the car into first roared off down the street, "You realise that saying that usually makes a person want to know all the more."

He regarded me with a grin, "You really want to know?"

I nodded, "Sure."

He nodded, "Alright then. He asked me if you were my girlfriend. I said no. Then he asked if you were seeing anyone. I said I didn't think so, but do correct me if I'm wrong. Then he asked if I could set him up with a date with you."

"Oh," I replied not knowing what else to say. I felt myself flush.

He laughed and shook his head, "You did want to know."

I grinned ruefully, "That's me learnt my lesson for being nosy."

He looked out the window thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "Look I know it's none of my business and feel free to tell me to get stuffed OK? But it might be kind of helpful if you were able to give me an indication of how you feel about this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?"

"Well you know. Guys. Interested in you." He gestured to me vaguely, "Cos you know, the way you look, it's going to be a recurrent problem. Don't get me wrong, I'm not prying, but if you are interested that's fine. If not, then I know to discourage them."

I felt very uncomfortable. "Umm yeah Jon, I see what you mean. I guess you can take it that I'm not interested in guys. Best not to complicate things any further."

He nodded and thankfully changed the subject, "You do realise that I faked the whole car breakdown thing so I could get a ride in your baby don't you? Can I have a drive?"

I laughed, "Not on your life!"

----------*----------

By the time we got the car parked and arrived at the Santa Barbara in Soho, we were late and the band was about to start. It took Jon a minute or two to spot his friends. As we made our way over to them, he whispered in my ear, "Listen, these guys are a little rough and ready. Don't be surprised if they are a little forward. Don't worry though, they are all talk really."

I was a little disconcerted but smiled and nodded nonetheless. "Hey Jon!" "Mate!" "'Bout time." Various greetings exchanged, handshakes, high fives and the like. From having been around the music scene I knew the type of these guys. Heavy guitar music and correspondingly heavy drinking. There were five of them and two of them had girls with them. One guy with a moustache nodded at me, "Jon, who's the looker? Didn't know you got a new chick."

I tried not to react and bit my tongue knowing it wouldn't achieve anything anyway. Jon shrugged, "Nah, she's just a friend. Guys this is Cara. Cara meet Bobo, Lenny, Dirk, Harry and Nads."

I nodded and smiled to them all then wrinkled my brow, "Nads?"

This provoked a round of laughter. Jon looked a little embarrassed, "Yeah, no-one can remember his real name. It's not too nice a nickname; I'll tell you later what it is short for."

"I think I can work it out," I assured him.

"Wahey," said the one called Dirk, or was it Lenny? "Smart as well as good looking. Fine if you like that, not for me though." He patted the leg of his girlfriend who was smart enough to realise she was being run down and she elbowed him in response. The sparkling conversation was cut short though as the band was introduced. There was only one seat left. I noticed that one of the girls was already sitting on Harry's knee. Bobo shouted over, "Cara honey, you can sit on my knee if you want." I was about to reply when he continued, "But only as long as you can handle the pole vault." He winked.

I tried to keep the distaste from my face and just smiled politely at him as I gave him a one-fingered response. This made him laugh all the more. "I'll sit on the floor," Jon murmured.

"You can't sit on the floor, there's no room. It's filthy and you won't see a thing. Come on, I'll have to sit on your knee."

He looked awkward, "Umm, you sure about that?"

I looked at him, "I promise not to bite. But if you can't abide the thought of it, I'll have to go sit on Bobo's knee then." That did the trick. He smiled sheepishly and sat down. I sat down on his knee and perched myself sideways so he could see.

'Loud as life' certainly lived up to their name. What they lacked in finesse and quality they made up for in noise and quantity. It was formula heavy guitar rock stuff. Some of it was alright, but I soon got bored of it. Plus I was getting a little uncomfortable sitting on Jon's knee. I was sitting bolt upright and trying not to put too much weight on him. It would have been fine if I had put my arm around his neck and settled in, but I reckoned neither of us would be too happy with that. They played for just over an hour and after a fortunately short encore, they were gone. The guys we were with raved enthusiastically about the music. I reserved my own opinion. More drink was consumed, more lewd comments and generally uninteresting conversation.

"So Jon," Harry said, "You're seriously leaving the band? I mean dude, you rock. We need you. So who'd you say you're playing with now?"

Jon shifted awkwardly underneath me, "Umm well actually Cara and I are putting a band together."

The guys found this hilarious. Harry laughed heartily, "No shit man. You're playing music with this chick?"

I was pissed off now and knew I should have kept quiet, "Yes, I needed a good lead guitarist and Jon needed a new challenge. And I can see why."

Bobo snorted, "Challenge my ass. More like challenged as to how he can get into your pants. So Jon mate seriously, why go play for a chick? She giving you good head or summat?"

Jon gently lifted me to my feet and he stood also. I was a little worried as to what he was going to do, but he replied calmly, "Guys, she's right. I've had enough of this crap. Come on Cara, let's go." We walked away to a chorus of jeers and catcalls.

Once outside, I apologised, "Sorry Jon, I should have kept my mouth shut. In fact, I shouldn't have come with you."

He shrugged, "No, it's not your fault. They're all jerks. I've been trying to deny it for months, but there's no point. I'm sorry you had to hear talk like that."

"I've heard it before. But it is a little strange being on the other side of it I'll admit."

I dropped him off and drove back to Jools' place. So much for trying to have a relaxing social night out to ease the tension between Jon and me. With all the comments and goings on, it would probably make things far worse.

----------*----------

CHAPTER 16

On Thursday morning I dressed simply in a blue blouse and jeans and minimal make up. I was due at Dr. Carson's at 9:30 a.m. and was feeling rather nervous. Jools noticed this and tried to ask me why I was so uptight. I evaded her question and said that doctors always made me nervous. This was a half truth. The other half was the decision that was weighing on my mind which I knew I would probably have to face soon after today. Although at that time, I wasn't to know just how soon that would actually be. Jools wanted to come with me, but I was adamant that I was going by myself as I didn't want to face the immediate barrage of questions after my appointment. She seemed a little miffed, but I wasn't backing down. I explained to her that I had to learn to do things myself without always having support. She didn't seem convinced, but let it rest at that.

After a short but busy rush hour tube ride, I arrived at the Harley Street consulting rooms and gave my name to the receptionist. After about twenty minutes, Dr. Carson came out and called me in.

"Hello Cara," she smiled warmly, "how are you my dear?"

I nodded and grinned, "Not too bad thanks."

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" she asked and she must have seen the expression on my face as she continued, "Oh I take it you talked to your family then?"

I nodded, "Yes. I couldn't say it was the merriest of Christmases I've ever enjoyed."

"Want to tell me about it?"

It's quite strange, but there are certain situations where it is far easier to tell total strangers things you can't tell your closest friends. I felt able to tell Dr. Carson all about what had happened and about the difficult reactions I had got from my family. I didn't go into everything, but gave her a fairly full account. I didn't tell her about my silliness with Phil, or about procuring my new I.D. She nodded and listened well, making little encouraging comments all the while. When I was done she sat back and looked ponderous for a moment.

"So Cara tell me, have you any doubts about what you are doing?"

I hesitated. I wasn't sure what the expected right answer was so I decided to go with the truth. "Yes. Yes I do. I don't really think I've made a mistake, but there are times when I wonder what I am doing. I don't know if that's just to be expected or whether it means I'm doing the wrong thing."

She shook her head, "It means you are human and you have insight into your situation. If you had said that you had no doubts I would be concerned that you weren't fully appreciating the gravity of what you are doing and weren't giving it the proper consideration that you should be."

"That makes sense I guess. To be honest it's not the physical side of things that troubles me, I actually really like the changes I'm going through. I like how I look and I like being attractive. It's the emotional side that I find more difficult."

She nodded, "It is to be expected. You've lived most of your life according to what is expected of a young man. To suddenly have this turned on its head and have to react and live out what is expected from a young woman is a challenge."

"You can say that again."

She hesitated before continuing, "Now the next question is a little personal, but I think I should ask it as part of the assessment of your adjustment. Tell me, how are your feelings about your orientation, I mean sexually?"

"Uhh..." I said meaningfully.

She smiled encouragingly, "Tell me about your attractions."

"Well," I began slowly, "I guess this hasn't really been a large part of my life recently what with all the other things going on with my family and all. I'm really not sure how I feel to be honest. I know that for all intents and purposes, I'm living as a woman, but I don't think I can say that I'm particularly attracted to men and am looking for a boyfriend or anything." I tried to lighten it with a bit of humour.

She laughed, "OK, but I want you to be able to talk to me about this again. This is a difficult area and you will need to address it at some stage. You are an attractive woman and men will be attracted to you and you need to know how to react. And what you want to do with such attention."

I nodded, "I know."

"Anyway, why don't I take a look at how you've been getting on? Do you want to pop behind the curtain and slip into the gown again and I'll be with you in a jiffy?"

I did as requested and Dr. Carson came round the curtain. "Cara, may I take a look at your breasts?"

I nodded and lowered the gown. She raised her eyebrows, "Well now. Things have been busy here. I think from now on we should put you onto a lower hormone dose, a maintenance dose." She measured me and gently palpated my growing breast tissue. She then took a look down below as before. I had to admit to her that there was nothing much happening down there recently.

"How does that make you feel Cara?"

I shrugged and wrinkled my brow, "I dunno. I guess I haven't really been thinking about it. It is sort of strange, and I guess I do well miss some of the....functions. But overall, it's sort of something I expected would happen."

She nodded, "It would be in keeping with the results of your hormone profile that I got. You had a low level of androgens and borderline low testosterone level which would explain why your body has responded so rapidly to the oestrogens. Right, all done here, you can get dressed again and come on out."

I did so and took my seat again before her desk. She sat back and regarded me thoughtfully. "Cara, the last time we talked, you mentioned that you were keen to have your own breasts. Is that still how you feel?"

I swallowed and felt my heart lurch but I nodded and forced myself to reply, "Yes. That's right. It is how I feel. The breast forms are hurting me now as they compress my breasts."

She looked a little curious, "Why not stop wearing them? Let your breasts grow naturally?"

I paused for a moment but then figured I needed to explain a few more things. "Dr. Carson, I guess I should tell you a little bit more about what is going on in my life..."

I explained to her about the record deal and the need for secrecy and privacy. I explained how that as people had seen me with my 'full bosom' as I described it, that it would appear strange to suddenly downsize. That was my problem. She nodded, and chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully, "I see." She looked thoughtful for a moment or two, "There is a solution. Now I wouldn't normally recommend this so soon in your transition, but it would be possible."

"Yes?" I asked expectantly. I sort of thought I knew what she was going to say. Part of me hoped I was right, but in a strange way, another part hoped I was wrong.

"You have had enough development now to consider moving straight ahead with breast augmentation surgery. You have enough natural breast tissue for implants to provide you with the breast size you have with your breast forms. What do you think about that?"

There it was. The cruncher. Although I knew in my heart that there really was little chance of going back on what I had already come through, even had I wanted to, this step though seemed to be a definite irrevocable one. Surgery. It seemed so permanent. So final. I knew it wasn't really. What is done, could also be undone. Yet despite all these feelings, I knew what I wanted to do. My throat felt dry and I croaked, "Yes. That's what I want."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

I shrugged, "As sure as I can be."

She nodded thoughtfully, "Alright. Now there are two surgeons I'd consider. Both are absolutely excellent. Their work is impeccable and they are used to dealing with private high-profile cases. The first one I think I mentioned last time does an operating list once a month in a private clinic in Belgium. Would you like me to ring his secretary and see what his schedule is like?"

I swallowed and nodded. She smiled back at me and then lifted her phone and dialled a number.

"Hello, this is Dr. Janice Carson of Harley Street. I was wondering when Mr. Bridges' next available slot for surgery might be on his Belgium list?"

A pause as she listened, "Oh, right. Nothing sooner? I see. Thank you."

She grimaced, "His next list is next week and is full, and next month's is cancelled as he is on holidays so it would be 9 weeks at the soonest."

I nodded, "You mentioned another surgeon?"

"Yes. Mr. Stretton. Although he is considerably more expensive. He does a private list in Switzerland from time to time. But it really is a costly procedure." She looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

I sighed and shrugged, "Money's not really a problem to be honest. Well depending on exactly how much."

She smiled, "Let me see what possibilities there are." She dialled another number, "Hello, Dr. Janice Carson of Harley Street. I have a private patient who needs discreet surgery, when would Mr. Stretton's next available list be?" A pause, "Oh really? Any availability?" Another pause, "Well if he is there, sure I'd like to talk to him." She put her hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to me, "He's leaving for Geneva tomorrow and is operating this weekend." Then someone came on the line as she uncovered the mouthpiece, "Hello Geoff, it's Janice here. It's been a long time. Listen, I've a private patient who needs some discreet surgery..."

I didn't hear much of the rest of the exchange. My mind was reeling. This weekend? Was I ready for this? I rationalised that I probably would never feel totally ready for it. Perhaps if an opportunity presented itself sooner rather than later it would be better as it would give less time for doubt and introspection.

"Cara," Dr. Carson called me back to reality. Her hand was again over the mouthpiece, "Geoff, Mr. Stretton could probably fit you in this weekend. His next private list is not for three months. But it will be costly. Around twenty thousand pounds for surgical and nursing care. That's probably too much isn't it?"

I thought quickly. I had the money. I wanted to do this. I decided to leap right in both feet first, "Err no, that's OK. I'm interested." Her eyebrows rose again but she shrugged and uncovered the mouthpiece, "Geoff, my patient is very interested." She proceeded to take details down over the phone and jotted them on a pad. I was to try to get flights to Geneva either tomorrow or Saturday. I was given the address of the private clinic. Mr. Stretton would see me on Saturday and assuming no contra-indications, surgery would be scheduled for Sunday. I would remain in the clinic until Thursday when he would be flying back in to do a final post op check and all being well discharge me. My head was spinning and it hardly seemed real. I made myself focus as there was something that had come into my mind.

"Umm, does he know about me? I mean you know about me not really being a woman?"

Dr. Carson shook her head, "I didn't tell him. It doesn't make any difference for the surgery. You look like a young woman who wants breast augmentation. You can tell him if you want."

I thought for a moment, "Actually, I think all things considered it would be for the best if I could just be that young woman who wants the surgery. I know this clinic is discreet but if things ever did get out, it would be better that no-one knew the real truth."

She nodded, "I can understand that."

I sighed, "But there is a problem. I'm going to be under anaesthetic and I'm sure my 'secret' down below would be noticed at some time. So I guess there is not much I can do about that."

Dr. Carson nodded sympathetically, "That is a problem. But I think we might be able to do something about that."

I raised an eyebrow, "How?"

It seemed that I wasn't the first of my type of patient who had similar wishes for absolute secrecy and privacy and Dr. Carson had a contact who made customised chastity devices. Although this was usually some form of S&M or fetish wear, it could also serve the purpose that I needed: to hide and protect my 'secret'. I did raise the protest that wouldn't the clinic staff find it strange. But Dr. Carson assured me that with the sort of patient who would be at the clinic, that is the extreme rich, nothing is too surprising. She said I could simply say I wanted to protect my dignity even under anaesthetic. However we were working to a tight schedule. She got on the phone again. It seemed that there may be a possibility to meet my deadline, but of course it would result in a premium price. She got off the phone.

"Cara, here is the address," she handed me a piece of paper, "Now don't worry, this is not seedy. Vic and Sue look on this as a family business, strange as that may sound. But you are going to have to head round there straight away if you want to have a chance of getting this sorted out."

I swallowed nervously and nodded, "OK. I guess."

She smiled, "You'll be fine. And listen, I want to see you in here the week after you get back from Geneva, you hear me?"

I grinned, "Sure thing."

As I left, I felt as if I was in a daze. Things seemed to be moving faster and faster and although I had to admit to being frightened, there also was a certain anticipation and excitement to it all. But I wasn't really relishing the prospect of my next call.

----------*----------

Vic and Sue Greenwood worked out of their own house in the east end of London. I found it easily enough and plucked up the courage to ring the bell. A young woman answered.

"Hello, Sue?" I said tentatively.

"You must be Nicola," she said with a warm smile. I had told Dr. Carson not to give the name Cara Malone to them.

"Come on in."

I went in and met her husband Vic. They both seemed very normal and down to earth. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting. They offered me a cup of coffee and as we sat and drank, I felt more at ease. They talked about what I needed. With some embarrassment I told them that I needed a chastity device that looked like a female device, but could hold a male's 'equipment'. They seemed very surprised and I had to confirm that that was indeed what I needed. This caused them a dilemma. They worked as a team and Vic would usually do the measurements for the men and Sue for the women. Sue gave me the choice of who I would be more comfortable with. I don't know why, but it seemed more appropriate for it to be Sue. And so it was that she took me into another room and performed rather intimate measurements. As I was going to need this like the next morning, they would have to work all day and a fair part of the night on it. They apologised for the price they were going to have to charge as a result. It was going to cost fifteen hundred pounds. What could I do but accept?

----------*----------

Later Jools was full of questions about how things had gone with Dr. Carson. I had already decided that I was not going to tell her what I was doing. I just felt this was something I had to do and work through myself. But I did owe my sister a phone call as I had promised her I would talk to her before doing anything like this. I fobbed Jools off with general comments, and told her I was now on a low dose maintenance oestrogen. I told her Dr. Carson was happy with my progress and left it at that.

"Umm Jools?"

"Yes?"

"I was thinking of taking a little holiday break?"

"Really? When?"

"Well, this weekend for about a week."

"Wow, what's got into you?"

I shrugged, "I dunno, I think I just need some time to myself. To relax and recharge a bit. Things have been quite stressful recently."

She nodded, "I guess they have. Where were you thinking of?"

I shrugged, "I've always fancied going to Switzerland. Geneva sounds like a nice place."

Jools frowned, "Won't it be fairly wintry and cold at this time of year?"

I nodded, "Yeah, but there's something nice about the snow, the cold, fresh air and all that."

"I suppose. Look, I'm not too busy, to be honest, I wouldn't mind a little break."

"Jools, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I think I could really do with some time to myself."

She looked a little taken aback, "Err OK. And you're happy about you know, travelling as Cara?"

I shrugged, "I've got a valid passport, I don't see any problems, do you?"

She shook her head, "I suppose not. Are you sure you are OK?"

"I'm fine, I just need a break and then I'll be able to get right back into the song writing. The time might help me get some more inspiration." Yeah right.

She seemed to accept this, albeit reluctantly. Next I phoned Jon and let him know I'd be away for a week and would give him a shout when I got back. He accepted it at face value and didn't seem too fussed.

"Hi Claire?"

"Hi...Nicola? Wow, two phone calls in one week, this is most unprecedented."

I chuckled, "Yes, I guess it is..."

"So what can I do for you?"

I paused, "Err Claire. You remember when we were talking at Christmas?"

"Ye-es. But you are going to have to be a bit more specific; we talked about a lot of things."

"Well you remember when you said I was to phone you before doing anything...radical?"

"Yes...wait, what's going on Nicola?"

I explained what my plans were and she seemed quite surprised. When she recovered from the initial shock, she was quite determined about one thing.

"I'm coming with you."

"Claire, it's OK, you don't have to do that."

"Look, do you think I'm going to let you head off to Switzerland, go through surgery and all it entails by yourself? Get real sister, I am coming with you."

"But what about your work, I mean I'm planning to fly out Saturday morning?"

"I'll sort it out, they will have to manage. I am coming with you."

I sighed, "OK Claire, you don't have to do this though."

"I do, of course I do. I said I'd be there for you and I will."

I paused. In a sense I felt glad and relieved. "Thanks Claire."

And so it was that I booked two British Airways flights from Heathrow to Geneva leaving Saturday morning with an open-ended return.

----------*----------

On Friday morning, I returned to Vic and Sue's house. They had worked halfway through the night and I felt bad. I apologised but they laughed and told me not to as I was paying for their lack of sleep. Sue again took me into the other room and I stripped down again. She brought out the device. It was made of a grey plastic-acrylic composite. There was a little small tube for my manhood to go into and she assured me that I would still be able to perform all necessary bodily functions. She gently fitted it onto me and clicked the waistband into place. It felt strange, but not uncomfortable. She checked it out from all sides and seemed satisfied. She told me that normally they would advise a customer to wear it for 24 hours and then to return for a check up, but I had told her that wouldn't be possible.

She gave me three keys and showed me how the locking mechanism worked. She assured me that it was quite secure. Although it wasn't metal, it could not be cut off without professional tools and risk of personal injury. In the event that I did lose the three keys, they kept spare master keys. I was very impressed with their workmanship and told them so. When I pulled my panties up, there was absolutely no bulge and my appearance was completely feminine. I gave them their hard-earned cheque and thanked them. They thanked me for giving them a challenging new design to prepare. Before I left, I had to ask about personal privacy and they assured me that their whole business was built on discretion and that I had nothing to worry about. I was a little perturbed that two more people potentially could reveal the truth, but I tried to put this out of my mind.

The rest of the day was spent with me getting packed and ready for my trip. We were flying out very early the next morning. Claire was going to stay with a friend nearby and get a taxi to swing by and pick me up the next morning to take us to the airport.

----------*----------

"Morning," Claire yawned at me as I got into the taxi.

"Hi. Early start isn't it?"

"Far too early. Please tell me you haven't been out for a run at this ungodly hour?"

I laughed, "No, too early even for the new me."

"Good," she paused, "So are you sure about this?" She looked at me with concern in her eyes.

I shrugged, "I guess. As sure as I ever will be. I'm not going to pretend I don't have some doubts and I'm not saying I'm not just a little bit scared. But this is what I want."

She nodded, "As long as you have thought this through."

"I have. It makes sense and I do want to go through with this." I paused and turned to look at her, "It means a lot to me that you dropped everything to come with me. I mean, I didn't expect it."

She grinned and squeezed my arm, "As I said, there is no way on this earth I'd even dream of letting you do this on your own."

"Were you able to get the time off work OK?"

She shrugged, "It wasn't easy, the boss grumbled a bit, but I said my sister was being taken into hospital and I had to be with her. What could he say?" She grinned, "Anyway, if I wasn't able to get away, I was going to send Mum in my place."

I'm sure I went white and looked at her sharply, "Uhh what?"

She laughed, "Had you there. That would have been a shock to you, wouldn't it? But on that theme, don't you think you should tell Mum and Dad. I mean, after all that has happened, don't you think it is better overall to keep them in the loop?"

I nodded, "Absolutely."

"So you are going to tell them what you are doing?"

"I am going to tell them what I have done, once it is over."

"You think that is best?"

I sighed, "I don't know, but I know that I can't face the inquisition and questions right now. I'm nervous enough and I've made my mind up. I will tell them when we get back." I rubbed my eyes, "Can't say I'm looking forward to the prospect. How do you think they'll react?"

Claire gave me one of her looks, "I think they'll flip again."

I grimaced, "Yes, I think they will too." I exhaled slowly, "This is difficult."

She was silent for a minute, and then spoke softly, "It is. I don't think it can be any other way, and being honest, I think it will continue to be difficult. They haven't really accepted this all. It is more resigned reluctance on their part, but I think this will bring it all to the fore again. I don't mean to make things harder for you, but I just want to check you have thought it through."

I nodded and gave her a wan smile, "I know. I'm really grateful for you being with me. I know that you have found it hard to accept too, but I really appreciate the efforts you are making."

She shrugged, "It's your decision. I have to accept it and I may have lost a brother, but I don't want to lose a sister also."

----------*----------

The check in at the airport was uneventful. I did have a brief moment of irrational fear at passport control, but it was unwarranted. I was exactly as my passport indicated: a young woman. The flight took an hour and a half and I tried to doze but my mind was too active. Claire didn't have any such problem and went into a coma as soon as the plane was airborne. We passed through customs and passport control in Geneva International airport without incident and hailed a taxi cab outside after collecting our baggage. I let Claire do the talking as she was more fluent in French than I was. It wouldn't have been hard.

"Bonjour Monsieur. Clinique médicale privée de Genève, s'il vous plait," Claire said which impressed me no end.

The taxi driver shrugged his shoulders, "Savez-vous où c'est?"

I was lost and hoped that Claire was following this. She was. She checked the address on the card I had and replied, "Oui. Rue de Vidollet."

"Ah bien sûr," the taxi driver clicked his fingers and moved the car into gear.

I nudged Claire, "Good to see you're making yourself useful. She poked me in the ribs in response and surreptitiously stuck her tongue out at me. The clinic was in an upscale neighbourhood. It was a modern yet tasteful two storey building. I felt nauseated as we walked up to the entrance. The doors slid apart and we walked in. The lobby was so plush that one could have been forgiven for mistaking it for a luxury hotel. The thought entered my mind that not many luxury hotels would cost as much for a five or six night stay as this one would. The receptionist smiled as we approached the desk, "Bonjour madames, comment est-ce que je peux vous aider?"

I smiled helplessly and looked at Claire, she murmured to me, "Oh come on, even you can do this one?"

I looked at her blankly. She just smiled and turned to the receptionist, "Parlez-vous anglais?" I grinned, I understood now.

The receptionist nodded and in near accent less English replied, "But of course madame. How can I help you?" Claire turned to me and indicated for me to reply.

I smiled nervously, "Umm hello. My name is Cara Malone. I'm booked in to see Mr. Stretton."

The receptionist tapped on the keyboard on front of her and looked at her monitor, "Ah yes Miss Malone. You have been allocated Room 106. Just let me call a nurse for you and she will show you where that is and get you checked in."

I thanked her. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn't actually a hotel. I was almost looking for the bell boy to take my luggage up for me. It wasn't long before a young dark haired nurse came along, "Bonjour, êtes-vous Cara Malone?"

The receptionist called out, "En anglais Marie."

The nurse smiled apologetically, "Sorry. Cara Malone?"

I stood up and nodded, "Yes that's me."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Marie and I will be your primary nurse during your stay with us. Please follow me and I will take you to your room."

I followed her up and when I saw my room, it was reminiscent of a hotel room. Except for the hospital bed that is. Apart from that, it was nicely carpeted, it had a tea and coffee maker, television and ensuite bathroom. Marie took down my details and asked about any medical problems I had or any medications I was on. I didn't have much to tell her. She checked my pulse, temperature and blood pressure. Then she took a blood sample and separated it into a few different bottles. She explained that these were routine preoperative blood tests. She left Claire and I alone and said that Mr. Stretton would be along shortly. As advised by Marie, I changed into a nightdress.

I couldn't relax and found myself pacing up and down the room. Claire found this to be a mixture of amusing and irritating, but I couldn't help it. It was different from a hotel though: you didn't have to ring for room service here, it just arrived itself. Two trays were brought in for Claire and me. A light salad and bowl of soup with yoghurts and orange juice. Very healthy. I ate very little of it. Unlike Claire who didn't have any appetite problems. It was about three p.m. when a tall dark haired man with a trim moustache knocked lightly on the door before walking in. He was dressed in surgical scrubs. Marie followed him in.

"Hello, I'm Digby Stretton," he smiled at me and in his crisp upper class accent continued, "You must be Cara Malone." He shook my hand, "And this is?" He turned to Claire.

I realised a potential for confusion here and didn't want to explain the whole Malone/Evans thing. "Umm this is my sister Claire," I left it at that. He shook her hand and then asked her if she wouldn't mind leaving us for a few moments. Claire did as she was asked.

"Now Miss Malone I believe you are here for breast augmentation surgery, no?"

I swallowed and nodded, "That's right."

He smiled, "Well let me put you at ease. You have come to the right place. It's not a matter of boasting, but to give you confidence let me assure you that I count myself as a leading expert in this cosmetic field. I perform more of these operations each year than almost anyone in Europe and I pride myself on performing surgery that is unnoticeable within a month post op. Does that make you feel better? You look very tense my dear."

I smiled and nodded, "Yes thanks." He had a smooth bedside manner which was obviously practiced and polished. But it did have the desired effect.

"Now Miss Malone, may I examine you?" I nodded and smiled nervously. Marie squeezed my hand and helped me cover my lower half with a sheet as I lifted up my nightdress. I felt very embarrassed. Although I was still adjusting to my new self, at that point I was very much a woman. And being examined by a man was disconcerting. I was glad Marie was there. He gently examined my breasts. There was nothing improper about it, it was clinical and professional, but I was still glad to lower my nightdress when he was finished.

"Now Miss Malone, I see from Dr. Carson's referral that you are wanting D cup breasts is that right?"

I flushed and nodded, "Err yes."

"Don't be embarrassed my dear. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I can guarantee you that you will be most satisfied with the outcome. I can guarantee you that you will have the breasts that you desire." He winked, "Although there is one thing I won't be able to do."

I raised an eyebrow, "What's that?"

He smiled, "I won't be able to make you any more beautiful."

I laughed and felt myself flush again. Marie tutted lightheartedly, "Monsieur Stretton!"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Merely speaking the truth my dears, nothing more, nothing less." He went on to explain the basic details of the surgery, possible complications and the post operative care. I nodded at several points but had difficulty taking all of it in. Marie produced a consent form. Mr. Stretton signed it first to indicate that he had explained the procedure to me. He then asked me if I had any questions. I didn't. I took the form and signed my name, Cara Malone, in the required space. I was going to be the first case on the morning list the next day. He breezed out with Marie in his wake and although I did feel more at ease, as time moved on bringing me closer to surgery, I felt more nervous tension building up. Claire stayed with me all afternoon and evening. After she had left to head for her nearby hotel, I felt suddenly alone and vulnerable. Marie had gone off shift and the night nurse was called Antoinette. She was older and more matron-like, but not unfriendly. I didn't think I would sleep too well so I gratefully accepted the offer of a night sedative. It worked well.

----------*----------

I wasn't offered any breakfast the next morning as I was fasting for surgery. I didn't miss it as my stomach was doing somersaults. I had changed into my theatre gown. It really is impossible to protect your dignity in those things. I was glad of my 'covering' down below and the key was safely tucked away in a pocket inside my suitcase. Let them think what they wanted about it, I didn't care. At eight o'clock, I was wheeled down to the theatre suite. A middle-aged balding man in scrubs introduced himself to me, "Hello Miss Malone, I am Dr. Bob Fitzgerald and I will be your anaesthetist. It's my job to make sure you have a nice sleep while Digby works his magic on you. Now let me slip an IV cannula into your arm." He put a tourniquet on my arm and tapped on a vein on the front of my elbow joint. "A little scratch now," he warned as he slipped a needle in. The pain was only momentary and then it was done. He taped the cannula into place. He drew up a syringe of white liquid and brought it over.

"What's that?" I asked nervously.

He smiled kindly, "It's a drug called Propofol, otherwise known as magic milk. As I inject this, you count to ten with me and I guarantee you will be doing well to get past 6 or 7."

I didn't think that anything short of a hammer to the head would put me out as my heart thumped against the inside of my ribs. He placed the syringe into the injection port of the cannula, "Now count with me." He began to inject.

I counted with him, "One...two...three...four...five..."

To be continued...