They Think I am a Woman! - Season One End

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** CHECK OUT THE NEW AUDIO VOICE ......

I was in a taxi on my way to my dinner date with Roger, and I was, to say the least, a little nervous. No, let’s not lie about this; I was shit scared.

Knowing what the slimeball had done to poor Jane, I was very concerned about the fact that things could go seriously pear-shaped very quickly.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing an even sexier dress than I had worn at work earlier.

I had borrowed Sheila’s black leather skirt and red satin long-sleeve blouse. The blouse was a bit big for me, Sheila being somewhat, shall we say, more developed than I was; this helped hide my electrical bits and pieces, you know, the mike and receiver whatsit.

My legs were encased in sheer black stockings, and I had red satin knickers, suspenders, and a brara underneath. In short, I felt that I would not look out of place at a hooker’s convention. I had on some heavy disco makeup, and I could feel the wind from my eyelashes every time I blinked.

The taxi driver fell over himself to help me into his cab, and I could see from his face that his thoughts were not on the last church meeting he attended.

As the streets went by, I looked out of the window unseeing, remembering the somewhat fraught day that I had just had.

Roger had been the perfect example of someone trying to be nice but not quite making it. Every time I had to go into his office, I felt that I was being undressed with his eyes. By his eyes? Well, you know what I mean.

I tried to be pleasant, but it was hard, and so was his prick that seemed to tent his trousers every time he saw me.

I had spoken several times with Ronald and Derek about what was going to happen, and they were extremely reluctant to let me do it.

Derek’s view was that a quick castration would do the trick, but I insisted that we must not go down to Rogers’s slimy level, tempting though it might be.

Somewhere along the way to girlhood, I had gotten a bit stubborn and fed up with being used and abused by certain people. Now I was determined to help Jane and all the other girls who had fallen into the Roger trap by fixing him, hopefully for good.

The taxi jerked to a halt. The pink flashing neon light outside said ‘La Romantica Bistro.’

I had arrived.

I paid the driver an extortionate £24for the ten-minute drive, telling him to keep the change out of £25. I think he expected more, but I wasn’t going to help pay for his villa in Spain, and anyway, he probably earned at least twice what I did.

I stood outside and looked through the window. We had agreed to meet inside, so I took a deep breath and walked in.

The heat hit me immediately; it was like a sauna in there, and I could feel a rivulet of sweat—sorry, I’m a girl now—perspiration run down the small of my back.

‘Ah, Mademoiselle,’ said a waiter in a sort of false Maurice Chevalier accent. He was looking me up and down and sort of hovering around my breast area.

‘Have you booked a table?’

‘No, I am waiting for a, um,m, friend,  Roger…’

‘Ah yes, Monsieur Pilkington is a regular client of ours; he has booked a table and has yet to arrive. May I offer Mademoiselle a drink?’

‘In a moment, could you tell me where the toilet is, please?’

‘Certainement; through there, third door on the left.’

I went where indicated and found myself in the ladies' loo and headed over to a stall and locked myself in.

After sitting down to do the business, I checked the position of the mike and the receiver and switched it on. The receiver was also a recording device made by those devilishly cunning Japanese, and it could record for a couple of hours in MP3 format without the need to change the battery on anything.

I pulled up my knickers and placed Percy in his go-to-sleep mode between the legs. With luck, I wouldn’t get a peep out of him tonight. Let’s face it, Roger was not my type.

I pulled up the skirt and zipped it up. It was a bit tight over my bum, being somewhat figure-hugging, but anything to titillate Roger was worth having on. As you can see, I was desperate to nail the bugger.

I stopped for a second, realizing that my language was getting a bit crude. I shook my head; it was being around Sheila all the time. I made a mental note to lay off the naughty words in the future and act like an English rose, perhaps a bit wilted but still a rose.

Exiting the stall, I went over to the mirror, washed my hands, freshened up my lippy, then brushed my hair and left the safety of the loo.

As I walked back into the restaurant, I saw Roger, using one of those breath freshener things, quickly putting it away as he saw me.

He looked me up and down, his eyes taking in my clothes. I could see that he approved of the look.

‘Enchanting, my dear.’

What, did he think he was Rhett Butler or something? Ah, well, I couldn’t give a damn.

Time for the big act.

‘Hello Roger, you look dishy tonight?’

‘As do you, my dear, as do you. Here is a red rose, just for you. Now, let’s go over to the table, shall we?’

I took the rose, trying to avoid getting pricked by a thorn as he steered me towards a booth in the corner of the room. I was surprised that it didn’t have a blue plaque up on the wall to say that 'Roger conquered here' or something.

There were a lot of potted plants about, and this helped make the booth feel somewhat private and secluded.

The waiter came over, and Roger did the ordering. I could, of course, as I was only a feeble-minded girl without a brain.

He ordered prawn cocktail followed by steak and chips, which wasn’t very romantic or adventurous, and some red house wine. He wasn’t pushing the boat out, was he?

‘The prawns are an aphrodisiac, the steak will help you keep up your strength, and the wine will complement the meal and help mellow your mood.’

‘Whatever.’ I thought as I gazed longingly into his eyes. Good actress, aren’t I?

As we ate our meal, I tried to get Roger to open up.

‘So, Roger, are you sorry for what you said to me at lunch the other day?’

‘Darling, it was a simple misunderstanding. We are both adults, and I, of course, realized that you and I had something special going. You had a few more drinks than you should have, but that helped you to relax, and you misinterpreted what I said. I wouldn’t harm you in any way, and as I said before, that thing about blackmailing you and telling Pippa and your uncle about things was only my little joke.’

‘But you also said, and I think I remember your exact words, “You see, I know people, press, and such like. They would love a juicy story like this. How would you like to have your face plastered over all the local papers? Do you mean that?

‘Of course not, let’s not talk of such unpleasant things now.’

He flashed me a real smile, and I blinked at the glare.

The food arrived, and then our supposed French wine waiter slopped about an inch of wine into the bottom of Rogers' glass to taste.

He tasted, slurped, smelt, and swished the wine around in the glass, and then pronounced it to be of a vintage and taste that he approved of. My glass, swiftly followed by Rogers', was filled to the brim by the waiter. . r

We chatted, small talk. I was trying to draw Roger into disclosing his other conquests.

‘So Roger, you are handsome, charming, and all that; why hasn’t some beautiful girl made you hers?’

‘Well, it’s not for the lack of trying. I have the face and personality that seem to draw beautiful women like moths to the flame.’

(Yuck!)

‘So, why hasn’t one of these beautiful moths captured your heart?’

‘Well, I’m sensitive by nature, and I feel that until the right girl comes along, I must save myself and not be drawn into a relationship that might hurt me.’

(Is he for real?)

‘Drink up; it's lovely wine.’

I sipped and then looked over Rogers' shoulder.

‘Ooh, isn’t that David from the office?’

Roger swiftly looked around, and I deposited the wine into the nearest convenient plant pot.

‘No, that isn’t David.’

‘Sorry, I must need glasses. Drink up, Roger; I’m leaving you behind.’

Roger, being a full-blooded ‘man,’ could not be seen to be out-drunk by a mere girl, drank the wine back in one pull, and then he filled my glass and his one again.

He clicked his fingers, and the wine waiter was there at the speed of light.

‘Another bottle, waiter.’

‘Certainly, sir,’

The French accent had turned to Birmingham for some reason. I assumed that the waiter had a split personality.

‘So Roger,’ I said, getting the conversation back on track, ‘I heard on the office grapevine that there are one or two girls who have fancied you from afar.’

‘Yes, I suppose it’s true. I am cursed with being handsome. It’s a burden I have to bear.’

I took a sip of my wine and looked over to the other side of the room.

‘She’s pretty.’ I said conversationally.

Roger looked around and ogled a girl with size DD cups oozing out of her low-cut dress as I deposited another glass into the plant pot. The plant in question was obviously not used to drinking too much; it sort of started to lean a bit to the left.

I coughed delicately, and Roger turned back to see me putting my empty glass down.

He frowned, looked at his glass, and emptied it with a few manly swallows.

He filled both of our glasses to the brim and clicked his fingers to the waiter.

‘Sweet trolley, please,’ he said to the waiter. And can we have two brandies, please?’’

A few minutes later, we were tucking into some Black Forest gateau.

I had another sip.

‘Goodness me, is that table on fire?’

I pointed to a table where some sort of flambé thingy was being done.

Roger lurched around as I toppled another glass of wine into the now pissed, sorry, I mean, inebriated, plant pot.

‘It’s a flambé,’ said Roger, swaying slightly in his seat and staring at my glass as if it were from some other world.

‘Drink up, Roger. I’m leaving you behind.’

He frowned, did a sort of hiccup, and picked up his glass. He took a deep breath and downed it in one.

He tried to put the glass down but missed, and it fell on the floor instead. Luckily, it was thick carpeting, so it didn’t break.

The waiter came back with the brandies and took the dishes away.

‘Well, Roger, have you blackmailed anyone else?’

‘Only Jane and Sarah and Michelle and Nicola, and they won’t talk. I know too much—I mean much—about them.’

He looked sheepish and put his finger to his lips.

‘Shhhh,’ he said, ’that’s our little secret.’

His eyes were beginning to cross now. Here was a man who obviously couldn’t hold his drink.

I drank a small amount of the brandy and accidentally dropped my rose on the floor.

‘Ooh, Roger, can you pick that up for me?’

Roger nearly fell off the chair as he scrambled onto the floor.

Not wanting to cause the pot plant any more suffering, I tipped my drink into Roger’s just before he surfaced again.

He shakily handed me the rose and did a sort of double take as he saw that my glass was empty.

‘I’m feeling a bit thirsty, Roger; drink up, and then we can have a nightcap.’

His hand actually shook as he picked up the glass, too pissed, I mean, drunk enough to realize that he now had a double. He drank the fiery liquid down as quickly as his chattering teeth would let him.

He coughed several times and then seemed to focus again, albeit blearily.

‘Shall I order one more for the road?’ I said innocently. ‘Or have you had enough?’

To give him his due, he wasn’t a quitter; he just nodded.

In no time, the waiter was back, and this time I ordered.

‘Two doubles, please, and I think we need the bill.’

‘That is not necessary,,l mademoiselle.’ He said, reverting to a form of French, ’Roger has an account with us.’

‘I bet.’

The waiter came back with the drinks and left us to it.

Roger had a slight grin on his face and the look of someone not quite all there.

I sipped my drink and said, ‘Roger, are your flies undone?’

He looked down, swayed a bit, and played with his zip while I poured my drink into his.

‘No, it’s OK, Peter the Penishis all tucked up.’

He looked at my glass. It was empty.

‘Do you want to drink up, and then we can go?’

He looked at me and said. ‘You are waving about a bit. I think you’ve had too much to drink.’

‘Oh, you are right. What shall we do?’

‘I know a little hotel, hic, around, erm, the corner that willorner that will look after you till morning.’

‘OK, drink up, and you can show me.’

He looked a bit green, but being the testosterone-filled creep he was, he downed it quickly and swayed to his feet.

‘Come on, let’s go. I’ll help you; you’re swaying all over the place.Hic.’

I helped him to his feet, and then, after weaving through the restaurant and knocking a few tables over, we managed to get out of the restaurant.

I, of course, knew where the hotel was, as Jane had been very helpful in that respect. Luckily, it was literally just around the corner. Any further, and I would have been in trouble, as I was nearly carrying him, and he was far from being a lightweight.

I got him up the steps of the hotel with the help of a porter and sort of leaned him against a post while I spoke to the receptionist.

‘Has Roger Pilkington made a reservation?’

‘Oh yes, it’s room 13 on the first floor.’

‘I thought he might have. Mr.. Pilkington is feeling a bit, um, unwell. Can anyone help me get him up to the room?’

‘Certainly, miss.’

She rang a little brass bell, and in no time, we were going up to the first floor, Roger being held up by two strapping bellboys.

He started singing ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco, off-tune, and we all winced as he missed every other note.

When we arrived at room 13 (unlucky for some), we manhandled Roger onto the bed, and I tipped the bellboys for their help.

Soon, I was by myself with Roger. He was snoring quietly, overcome by alcohol and well and truly out of it.

There was a knock at the door.

I went over and opened it.

‘Hello.’

I stood aside as Sheila, Ronald, Derek, and Jane came in.

‘Is this the bugger?’ said Sheila.

‘Yes, this is Roger.’

Sheila went over to him and looked down with disdain.

‘Did he talk?’

‘Yup, got it all on the recorder.’

‘Good; can I flay him now?’

‘No, Sheila, we agreed to do it my way.’

Ronald and Derek came over to the bed.

‘Ooh, doesn’t he look peaceful like that with his thumb in his mouth, Derek?’

‘Yes, Ronald, it's a pity he won’t be so peaceful tomorrow.’

Jane just looked on with a bemused half smile on her face, not really knowing what was going on. I knew. I wanted her to see him in his humiliation, and that might help her move on.

We all laughed and got to work…

The next morning, I arrived at work early.

We had a wonderful email system; you could send out messages to everyone in the building with just a few clicks.

I went to Rogers’s computer and turned it on. I knew the password, as he had told me to check on something when he was in a meeting once, and he had to give it to me.

The password was STUD; surprised?

I fired up the computer and opened Outlook, then put in a pen drive and transferred some stuff onto his computer.

Shortly afterwards, an email with attachments went out to everyone in the office, and then I shut the computer down and went to have a coffee, satisfied with a job well done.

It was some three hours later that Roger came in and called me in to his office.

As I walked in, I saw that he looked very much the worse for wear. He hadn’t changed from the previous night, looked disheveled, and had stubble on his chin..

‘Roger, are you OK?’

‘No, I’m not. What happened last night?’

‘What do you mean after the meal? You were unwell, so I took you to a hotel around the corner from the bistro. I left you to sleep it off. What’s happened?

‘I woke up with a blinding headache and realized where I was. I couldn’t remember much about last night. Anyway, after having some strong coffee, I went to pick up my car. I just started it when there was a tap on my window. Two policemen had me out of the car and frisked me. Then they had me blow into a bag; I was evidently still over the limit, and they took me to the police station. They are going to prosecute me for drunk driving, and I’ll lose my license.

‘Oh dear, never mind.’

‘Never mind! I need a car for my work. I’m in marketing, and I travel thousands of miles every year. I’ll have to appeal.’

‘There, there, Roger, can I get you a coffee?’

‘Yes, three sugars.’

I went to the door and opened it, pausing before I left.

‘Oh, Roger, I think you need to check your email.’

He looked puzzled as I quietly shut the door behind me.

I didn’t bother getting him a coffee, just went over to my desk humming ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco’; I couldn’t get that tune out of my head for some reason. Still humming, I looked at the email that everyone else had now received and clicked on one of the attachments to open the picture.

Roger was naked on his stomach, tied to the bed with leather straps on his wrists, a studded leather collar around his neck, and a single rose strategically placed in the crack of his bum. You knew it was Roger, as there was another pic of him from a more flattering angle on his front again, this time with a dummy in his mouth.

Also attached to the email was an MP3 audio file. In that MP3, he could clearly be heard to implicate himself in blackmail and other nasty stuff. The names of the girls involved had been bleeped out.

Roger left the company by mutual agreement one hour later, and more than one of us cheered at his parting. Rumors around the office whispered that at least two girls were going to the police about what Roger did to them.

I carried on working in smug mode as if nothing had happened. Pippa said that I would be reassigned to work with someone else. I hoped that he or she would be an improvement on Roger.

I got back from lunch, and there was a handwritten note on my desk.

Toni,

Please come and see me as soon as you are back.

Uncle Peter.

‘Oh Gawd, what now!’

I stared at the note, wondering what my uncle was going to say or perhaps do to me.

‘Oh well.’ I thought, ‘It can’t be much worse than what dirty Roger had in mind.’’

I got myself a quick cup of mud from the alleged coffee machine and drank it, shuddering as the glutinous liquid trickled down my throat, and then girded my loins for the ordeal ahead.

As I shot up in the lift, leaving my stomach several floors below, I gripped the handrail in tense anticipation of my meeting with Uncle Peter.

He hadn’t been around much lately. The rumor was that he had been out of the country for some reason.

The lift came to a halt with a slight stomach-wobbling lurch, and the doors opened silently.

I got out of the lift and bravely went down the corridor to meet my fate, abruptly turning left into the loo when I realized that I was dying to go wee-wee. I always want to go when I’m nervous.

After doing my stuff, washing my hands, and checking that my skirt wasn’t in my knickers and that I didn’t have lipstick on my teeth, I was ready to face the firing squad.

I knocked on the door and went into his outer office.

Sasha was there. As usual, she looked impeccable with sunglasses perched on top of her head. The clothes she wore could have paid for several years’ food for a family in some third-world country, and her hair had been brushed to impeccability.

She was typing something on the keyboard, concentrating with some intensity, as she was the original one-finger typist and obviously didn’t want to tie her fingers in knots over the big words.

She stopped and pressed Enter.

‘Bugger, I’ve deleted it again. Ah, well.’

She looked up and gave me an expensive ‘I’ve had my teeth straightened and whitened smile.’

‘Hi Toni. Can I help?’

‘Um, Peter wanted to see me?’

Sasha looked at the desk diary open in front of her.

‘Ah, yes, it says urgent. Don’t know what you’ve done, but it must be something. He rarely puts urgent on appointments. Anyhoo, he’s on the jellybone at the minute; take a seat, and I’ll let you know when he’s finished. OK, ya?’

‘Yeah,h, I mean yes, OK.’

I walked over to a settee and carefully sat down, surprised that it didn’t fart at me. Everything I've sat on lately seems to.

Sasha didn’t seem overly inclined to work and wanted to chat.

‘So, Toni, did you hear about that rat Roger?’

She didn’t give me a chance to answer.

‘Well, I heard that the police are after him. What a rat, eh? He tried it on with me once, but I told him that he wasn’t my type. I mean, I only go after chaps with at least half a million a year salaries, like my Duncan.’

‘Duncan?’

‘Yes, he owns half of Shropshire, or is that Essex? I don’t know, anyway, he’s a sweetie.’

I looked at her, feeling a bit envious. She was the type of girl whose toast always falls butter side up.

I sighed; will I ever meet someone who would love me for what I am? You know, a transgender, unsnipped person who doesn’t know whether to finish off the job and go full-time, in-your-face girl, or stay as I am as a sort of halfway house. If truth were told, my encounter with Roger had left me somewhat bleak in attitude towards men in general. The only men I liked were Ronald and Derek, and they had the hots for each other, and I wasn’t their type anyway.

Then I remembered that hunk who had moved into our flats. Now that would be something, going out with him. Dinner, perhaps, followed by a romantic walk down by the river. Then we would return back to the flats.. He would ask me into his room, fold me in his arms, and kiss me passionately. We would end up in bed. I would strip him slowly, and then he would do the same to me…  And then he would scream blue murder when he saw Percy, and that would be that.

‘He’ll see you now.’

I jumped as Sasha spoke, coming back to reality with a start.

I stood up and went over to Peter’s door; knocking timidly, I heard a mumbled, ‘Come in.’

I opened the door, and after quietly closing it behind me, heart in my mouth, I walked across the ten acres of carpet until I reached his desk.

He was writing something down, probably signing my letter of dismissal. Why did I get so involved with that freak Roger? I bet he’s to blame for all this. Perhaps his last bit of spite before he left in humiliation was to tell my uncle about me.

Peter looked up and smiled. Hmm, would he smile if I were getting the chop? Psychopath-executioner-type smile, maybe?

‘Sit down, Toni.’

I sat, only trembling a teensy bit.

‘Now, I am sorry I haven’t been around; I have been in Australia.’

‘Australia?’

‘You know, wallabies, kangaroos, Castlemaine XXXX, lost to us in the rugby?’

‘Yes, I get the picture.’

‘And, I have to apologize about that scumbag Roger Pilkington. I must have been blind, deaf, and dumb not to realize what he was like. I thought that he was an OK guy. Just goes to show.’

I sat sort of mute, just nodding and shaking my head, as required. I still didn’t know why I had been summoned to the august presence.

‘Now, back to business. I would like for you to work with Pippa in HR. I know your forte is computers, and I realize that you have no experience in that line, but Pippa has needed help for quite some time,e, and I think that you will like working for her. Would that be OK?’

I liked Pippa; she was a bit scatty, but I was sure that I could work with her and hopefully not make too many mistakes.

‘Yes, I’d love to work in HR.’

‘Great. Now the other thing I need to talk to you about is David, your stepfather.’

‘My stepfather?What about him?’

‘Well. You probably don’t know this, what with all that has happened to you lately, but David skipped bail in the UK and went back to Australia. I had a local private investigator trace him. The fool thought that he could retrieve some ill-gotten money that he had hidden somewhere and then run off to a country that didn’t have extradition.’

I was amazed, as my face probably showed, and the fact that I knew nothing of this made it something of a shock. Then I considered that things had been a bit fraught for me, and I hadn’t had much time to look at the news.

‘Anyway, he was recaptured and is at this moment on his way back to the UK. Now, this may upset you, but you need to know.’

My heart sort of flipped. What was he going to tell me?

‘The police are very suspicious of the, ah, circumstances of your mother’s death. They think it’s possible that it may not have been an accident. Also, what I told you before about David committing bigamy was true. This means that he had no legal right to your mother’s estate. Your mother’s and all her property and cash will, almost certainly, revert to her only living close relative, you.

I must have looked like a fish. My mouth was gaping open and closed at what I had heard. I couldn’t speak. My gob was well and truly smacked.

‘Your house was put on the market by David, and in fact, he had a buyer. I assume that you want that to be stopped?

I nodded, still mute and in shock.

‘I see that you are a bit stunned. I understand that. It appears that the police have quite a strong case against David. He will almost certainly be charged with murder. They will probably contact you as a potential witness. Now, I want you to take the rest of the week off. Now go on home. You can start with HR on Monday. That is, if you still want to work with us.’

I nodded.

‘OK, off you go then. Here is my card with my mobile and home number on it. Ring me if you need me. I still consider that I am your uncle, even if not officially, and I hope you do as well.’

‘Yes, you have been so kind, and I suppose that you are as close as I can get to family now.’

‘That’s exactly how I feel. Now, buzz off, and if I don’t hear from you before, I’ll see you on Monday.’

I got up and walked over to the door.

‘Oh, Toni.’

‘Yes, Uncle?’

‘If you have any problems with the police, or you have any questions about your inheritance, I will give you the number of the solicitor that’s dealing with your case. OK?’

‘OK, and thanks again.’

I left my uncle and quietly shut the door behind me. I think that Phillipa said something, but I didn’t hear her.

I was in a bit of a daze, and without realizing it, somehow, having gotten my coat and handbag, I found myself on the street.

I walked aimlessly for a while and then realized vaguely that I was down by the river.

Sitting down on a bench, ignoring the greedy ducks that wanted to mug me for bread that I didn’t possess, I was in a world of my own, pretty well oblivious to my surroundings.

I was thinking about my mother. I missed her now more than ever. It was bad enough losing my lovely dad, but I was always close to my mom. I pictured her smile and the way she looked at me lovingly when I had done something nice for her, like picking flowers from the garden or trying to help or hinder her with the housework.

I remember how we cuddled for hours after we heard that my father had died in the plane crash and how strong she was for me after that, even though I knew that she was in so much pain herself from the loss of the one she loved.

Leaning forward, elbows on knees, I covered my face with my hands and was crying quietly to myself when I felt an arm go around my shoulder.

‘It’s OK, Toni, I’m here.’

It was Sheila.

I looked at her through bleary eyes.

‘How, how did you know I was here?’

‘Your uncle rang me; he was worried, and I know you come here to think.’

‘Oh, Sheila, my mom was murdered!’

‘I know, honey, but at least they have got the miserable sod that did it.’

I cried some more, and Sheila was there, holding me and telling me that everything would be OK.

In the end, I dried up, stopped crying, and realized that it was getting dark.

I tried to pull myself together.

‘Here,’ said Sheila, handing me a hanky.

I wiped my eyes, blew my nose, and offered the hanky back to Sheila.

‘No, that’s OK; keep it now it’s got your snot on it.’

I laughed at her crudity and stuck it in my handbag.

‘Hungry?’

Yes, I suppose I was. At least having a good cry had cleared my head and made me feel a bit better.

‘Mmm.’

‘OK, let’s go eat.’

Sheila’s car was parked close by, and in no time, we were off to get a Big Mac.

As we walked into the same McDonald's where I had had that infamous pickle incident, I realized how I had changed in such a short time. No more was I the terrified cross-dresser desperate to get a job. So desperate, I had dressed as a girl just to get an interview. Now I was a reasonably good-looking and confident woman with a job and prospects, and I was probably not short of money. This was a different Toni; I actually amounted to something.

I still needed to see the shrink that Sheila wanted me to go to. What with everything that had happened, that had been shoved into the background.

It was obvious, to me anyway, that I had made a decision to go the whole route and become a girl permanently. Whether that meant saying goodbye to Percy and hello to Percette, I wasn’t sure. I would need a lot of help and advice along the way. Looking at Sheila, I thought that at least I had a strong and friendly shoulder to lean on when times got rough. What with her, Derek, Ronald, and not forgetting my friendly, if earnest,t, police chums, I wasn’t short of people who would look out for me.

Then there was my sort of Uncle Peter; I wish he were my real uncle and not an ex-one due to bigamy, if you know what I mean.

Perhaps he could sort of adopt me as a niece or something. Can you do that? I don’t know, but it would be nice to have a real relationship.

With that newfound assurance and the knowledge that I had at last made a defining decision in my life, I took a deep breath and walked purposefully across to the spotty youth behind the counter and said, ‘Two Big Macs, please, and don’t spare the pickles.’

Season Two Next Week.