This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
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6.
Paul returned on Friday as promised, and I went and stayed with him in his cottage. There was a farmyard opposite, and Ed and his team set up there. Paul and I had a very carnal night on the Friday and slept late into Saturday morning.
I got up around ten, and had a shower,
and he plodded to his computer to get his first article finished for
Monday. I dressed in a suede skirt,
with a fawn sweater, and my suede boots. His larder and fridge were empty, so
at noon, I took the Mini to Sainsbury’s to do some shopping. As I was pushing my laden trolley to my car,
a big black van pulled up along side, and the sliding door opened.
I was bright enough to push the trolley
at the man who jumped out, and I turned and ran, screaming as loud as I could.
I heard some cursing, and “Get the
bitch!” from behind me.
I ducked left, as I saw one of the men
sprint to my right to cut me off. I
cursed my high heels, and hoped that the police were with me.
I reached the end of the car park, and
was against a wall. I turned and looked
as three men in dark clothes closed in on me.
I looked round for anyone to shout for
help to.
“Come on, nice and peaceful, and no one
will get hurt,” said one of the men.
I felt my mobile in my pocket, and keyed
it on, then pressed 999. I watched as
the van was driven slowly towards me, and I was now as far up at the back of
the car park as I could get. There was
nowhere else for me to run.
The man who had spoken to me, took a
length of cord from his pocket and started to wrap in round one hand. His meaning was clear. I was about as terrified as I could get.
“Look, what do you want me for?” I asked.
“Shut the fuck up!” said the man.
At that moment, two dark cars screeched
to a halt, a dark Vauxhall and a Range Rover.
I saw the blue light inside the Range
Rover, and just sat on the ground in relief.
“ARMED POLICE. DO NOT MOVE!” came the
amplified voice.
The three men looked totally startled,
and the man with the rope recovered first, and lunged into his jacket pocket
with his right hand. I watched in slow
motion as his hand came out holding something black, and he started lifting it
towards me. Realising it was a gun, I
simply lay flat and rolled under the nearest car.
There were four loud bangs. Very loud.
And I passed out.
I was looking at the sky. A fluffy white cloud was floating overhead,
and a voice intruded on my consciousness.
“Josie!
Josie! Hey are you all right?”
I looked up, and there was Pete. He was looking down at me, with a worried
expression.
I was so relieved I burst into tears, and
clung to him.
It was then I saw the body.
Two officers had shot the man who had
been drawing the gun, and all four bullets had hit him. They had covered the body with a blue sheet,
but I saw the pool of blood on the tarmac.
“Come on, let’s get you away,” Ed said.
They took me to the Range Rover.
“Wait.
My shopping,” I wailed, and they looked at each other.
They drove me to where my trolley was
still standing, and watched bemused as I loaded my shopping into my Mini.
“Follow me, or something.” I said, and
tried to open my driver’s door. I was
shaking too much, and I felt Pete take my keys from me.
“Get in the Range Rover, I’ll take this
to the cottage for you.”
Ed stayed at the scene as more police
cars turned up. I sat and shook all the
way back to Paul’s.
I just sat in the back of the Range
Rover, unaware that we’d arrived.
Pete opened the door.
“Come on Josie, we’re here.”
I looked at him, and then at the
cottage. He was holding his hand out to
me, and I took it.
“How did they know?” I asked.
“The car. They were waiting for the car.”
I shook my head.
“No. They’ve been watching me. How come they never saw you?”
He shrugged.
“Probably because we are very good at
what we do.”
“Will they try again?”
“Not now. They know you are protected.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I can’t, I’m trying to make you feel
better,” he said with a little smile.
I smiled, but it was very half hearted.
“Shit, I was scared!”
“Yeah, I know.”
Pete came in with me and explained to
Paul what had happened, and left us alone.
Paul held me as the reaction hit, and I sobbed in his arms.
They even brought the shopping in, but I
didn’t feel like cooking.
Two hours later, Ed appeared with
Superintendent Hutchings.
I was curled up on the sofa, clinging to
Paul.
They both sat down.
“Are you okay?” Ed asked.
“Is he dead?”
He nodded.
“Who was he?”
“He was a mercenary, an ex-paratrooper
and hired gun. The other three were all
the same, and have said absolutely nothing ever since they were arrested.”
“Did they all have guns?”
“Just two of them. The one that died and one other.”
“Josie, this changes things,” said the
superintendent.
“Yes?”
“Yes.
We have enough to act, and we are going to. Mr Lambert is going to be arrested.”
“But do you have enough to charge
him? One old and grainy film is hardly
conclusive evidence,” Paul asked.
“We need to stop him trying to harm
Josie.”
“But if he walks, then she is in even
more danger.”
“Possibly, but they’ve tried twice now.”
“And they know I am a girl.”
“Quite.
So we are going to act.”
“May I make a suggestion? I mean, I know I am new at all this getting
killed business, but I have had a thought, and it might help,” I said.
They looked at me.
“Well, if he walks free, then I am
toast. Right?”
They just stared at me.
“What if I called him, at the House of
Commons, in broad daylight, and tell him I am willing to give him everything
I’ve got. They don’t know you have it
yet, do they?”
“No. It is the one ace I am keeping for
the last minute.”
“Well then, they might just arrange a
meeting, and if I am wired, then I may be able to get him to confess.”
Ed smiled.
“He’d never go for it.”
“He would if I named him, and said I will
only deal with the man in the film.”
“He’d arrange to have you frisked. You’d never get a wire past his men.”
“I’d get them past your men, wouldn’t I?”
“My men?
Oh, the officers at the House?”
“Exactly. He could hardly have his bully boys there, could he?”
The Superintendent looked sceptical.
“Look, if I wore earrings with a
microphone in them, I would wear clothes that showed a lot of flesh, and he
could see I wasn’t wearing a wire. I
would take him to a place he’d feel secure, from directional microphones, and
then try. Men appreciate blondes, but
never think we have brains”
“George Lambert, please,” I said on the
phone.
“Who is calling, please?” the female
voice asked.
“Miss Fortune.”
“Thank you, and what is it about?”
“It is about a constituent of his, Mr
William Henderson.”
“One moment.”
I was put on hold, and looked at the
three officers with the recording equipment.
“Miss Fortune? This is George Lambert.”
“If you want the film, I will meet you in
the lobby of the House in two hours, at thee p.m..”
“I’m sorry, what film is that? I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Very well, I will give it to Special
Branch. Goodbye Mr Lambert.”
“Wait!”
There was silence. He was being very careful.
“Look, I really have no idea what you are
talking about, but if you want to meet me, fine. I will see you at three.
How will I know what you look like?”
“If you don’t know now, then that is your
problem,” I said and hung up.
The earrings looked like black onyx
spheres. Both were microphones, and
were switched on by the controller in the van.
They had a range of 1000 metres, and if a sub unit was available, someone
with an earpiece could stay with me at 200 metres whilst we were 2000 metres
from the base unit.
I was dressed in a simple pale blue skirt
and blouse, with a leather jacket and my black boots. I had a shoulder bag, and was very nervous as I was dropped off
by a ‘cab’ at Parliament Square. I
pretended to pay the cabbie, my friend, Sergeant Ed.
“Good luck Jo.”
“Thanks, watch my back.”
“Count on it.”
I then walked through the gate and into
the main lobby. The place was packed,
and security was tight. As I presented
myself for searching, I noticed an extra security man slide across and give my
bag a very thorough search. I was
wrong, as his goons were in here. A
female searched me, and really felt me.
She paid attention to my belt and bra, and even went between my legs.
I was permitted to pass, and walked
through.
A man approached me.
“Miss Fortune?”
“Yes?”
“Mr Lambert regrets, he cannot meet
you. But you may give me the item.”
I turned and saw two goons in suits by
the door.
“I’m sorry, no Lambert, no film.”
We stood staring at each other.
“He is very busy, but you may trust me to
give it to him.”
“There is a price on it.”
“How much?”
“One million.”
His eyebrows rocketed upwards, and he
laughed.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“So are murder, corruption and bribery.”
He looked around.
“Are you going to give me the film?”
“I will give the film to the man on
it. George Lambert, and no one else.”
“Wait here.” he said, and walked off. I
suddenly saw Pete dressed as a uniform PC, with helmet and everything, just
wandering about, looking as if he belonged.
He did not even make eye contact, and he exchanged words with another PC
by the door.
The man was back.
“Follow me,” he said, and I swallowed and
went with him.
After miles of corridor, we finally ended
up on the terrace overlooking the Thames.
Mr Lambert looked exactly what he was, a
prosperous and important man, and he did not look happy.
“Miss Fortune?”
“Mr Lambert.”
“What is this, a blackmail attempt?”
“I prefer to look at it as a business transaction, whereby I end up with some life insurance.”
He almost smiled.
“Go on,” he said.
“Simple, I have a CD of a film, I assume
you recovered the original from Mr Henderson before you had him terminated, so
you have tried twice to do the same to me, and unfortunately each time I had a
mobile phone. But this can’t go on, as
you know I lead a complicated life, and need cash to, how shall I put it,
un-complicate it,” I said, as his calm face twisted into ugly anger and
revulsion.
“You are a twisted little queer, so you
need to have surgery to make you look like a woman?” he snarled at me, losing
his cool. But it told me, and the listeners that not only did he know of me, he
knew intimate details that very few people knew. I tried to annoy him further by not rising and just smiled
calmly.
“No Mr Lambert. I am a woman, but I need surgery to complete the job. Unlike you, I haven’t had to resort to
prostituting myself to kill in order to please my masters.”
“I’m saying nothing to you.”
“No, I don’t expect you to. Do you want the film of you leaving Mr
Spooner’s cottage or not?”
His eyes widened in surprise.
I laughed.
“I am not stupid. I live very close to there, and recognised
it. I then checked the old news reports
and two and two made four.”
“Who have you told?” he said, clearly
worried.
“I have given a letter to an undisclosed
law firm, with a copy of the CD, with instructions to give it to Special Branch
if I do not check in with them with a different codeword each week. Apart from them - no one, and this.” I said,
producing a CD, “is the only other copy.”
He stared at it.
“Ten thousand.”
“Come on, the surgery and treatment is
thirty five thousand, and I need a flat, and a new car as well”
“Fifty thousand.”
“One million, take it or leave it.”
“For one million, I want the other copy.”
“For one million, you get whatever you
want, including my silence. But, you
let me get on with my life.”
He smirked, and I knew that once he had
the CDs, I was dead.
“Done.
I need a couple of days to get that sort of money.”
“You have twenty four hours.”
He looked at me.
“You really are a hard little bitch. How would you like a job?”
“For you? No thanks. I do have some
scruples,” I said, and he laughed.
I turned to go.
“Miss Fortune, fuck me up, and you are
dead.”
I turned back.
“Mr Lambert, you say the nicest
things. By the way, was it all worth
it?”
“What?”
I waved my hand at the building and his
Armani suit.
“All this for his life?”
He nodded.
“Oh yes, it was worth it.”
I smiled, as I saw the Superintendent
approach along the terrace behind him.
“Well, I hope you enjoy the time you have
to think about that,” I said, and walked away from him. I went through the door, and found the man
who had brought me.
“Finished, for the moment,” I said, and
walked off down the corridor.
There was a shout, and the man had
obviously seen his boss being detained, and he was running after me.
I turned the corner and found Pete
grinning at me.
“Ed is down on the left,” he said, and I
went to a small room and was dragged into it by Ed.
He put his fingers to my lips signifying
silence.
The man trotted past, cursing under his
breath.
“Excuse me, sir.” I heard Pete shout.
The man flustered, and unarmed, stopped
and approached the officer.
“A young lady was here, I think she
sneaked in past security,” he said to Pete.
Pete smiled.
“You, sunshine, are nicked. Accessory to murder, kidnapping and
conspiracy to the above.”
Before the man was aware of what was
going on, Pete restrained and handcuffed him.
I then appeared with Ed. The man
saw Ed’s MP5, and realised that he and his boss were now well and truly sunk.
The rest of the day consisted of sitting
in a small office in New Scotland Yard, and compiling a very detailed statement
of what had happened. Unbeknown to me,
they had even managed to get film footage of our conversation on the terrace.
Eight arrests had been made in total, so far. The two from the Vauxhall - when I had
followed them in the cab. Then there
were the three survivors with the van in the supermarket car park, and finally,
Lambert and the pair of ‘security’ personnel at the House of Commons.
I sat and watched the small TV as I drank
my eighty fifth cup of tea.
Several boxes of documents and PCs were
siezed from his office and home. TV
footage showed a distraught looking Mrs Lambert watching as several officers
removed box after box of documents from his house.
“Officers from Scotland Yard’s Special
Branch raided the M.P.’s home and office this afternoon after he was arrested
on suspicion of murder, conspiracy to murder and corruption allegations. They removed computer equipment and
documentation from both locations.
“Mr Lambert is being held at an
undisclosed police station, and is facing a possible prison sentence, if
charges with even one of the offences alleged come to conviction. A police spokesman spoke to me earlier.”
The scene changed to the usual scene of the
revolving sign outside the tower that was NSY.
Superintendent Hutchings faced the
camera.
“Mr Lambert was arrested in the House of
Commons earlier this afternoon after a long investigation in which we believe
he has been directly involved in at least two murders and the attempt of at
least two more. It is strongly
suspected that Mr Lambert has used his position to abuse that trust in
permitting or arranging contracts to companies who should never have been
allocated them.
“All I can say is that we are actively
investigating Mr Lambert’s and his associates’ activities for the last thirty
years.”
The scene went back to the reporter, who
waffled on about the impact this might have on the already beleaguered Blair
administration.
I was tired, and I got a call from Paul
on my mobile. I told him how things
went, and then he told me that he was on a train heading to Cornwall. He had left it until now to tell me he was
going to Newquay. That really pissed me
off, and I said some things I shouldn’t have.
I was still stewing when Tony Hutchings
came in to the office.
“Something wrong?”
“Men!” I said, and he smiled. “I’m sorry,
it’s my boyfriend. He’s fucking off to Cornwall to do his journalist bit. He knew about it weeks ago, but only told me
now. He thought I would have been upset
if he’d told me earlier. Like, I’m not
pissed off right now.”
He
sat down, and looked at me.
“I’ve just been speaking to the boss, the
Commissioner, and he has been appraised of your part in this. What you did was very brave, and you will be
getting a civil citation for helping us.”
“Is it enough to put the bastard away?”
“A DCI from the Thames Valley Police is
coming up with the file from the 1970s.
With the film, and one or two other bits, we might be in luck. There is always a chance that DNA could be
on some of the evidence, which is still held on file.”
“What about the case against him trying
to kill me?”
“There we have been a little
luckier. The man we shot had a mobile
phone, and he carefully removed any numbers that called him. But George wasn’t so careful. He made two calls to him, and the numbers
are logged in his mobile.”
“That was a bit careless.”
“I think he was just very confident that
he could take care of things.”
“Am I safe now?”
“I think so. Whoever was in bed with him, so to speak, will now be trying to
row for home and cleaning out their own house.
You are no longer a threat to them, as we have everything you had, and
so nothing more can be gained by attacking you. But I am going to keep the team in place until this goes to
court.”
“Where is he?”
“Lambert? Paddington Green. Why?”
“I just wondered. I suppose I can go home now?”
“Ed will get someone to give you a lift.”
I stood up and stretched.
He smiled.
“Tired?”
“Bloody knackered. This has taken a lot out of me, and I have
an ‘A’ level exam next week.”
“You look far to mature to be doing ‘A’
levels.”
“Thanks, flattery will get you
everywhere.” I said.
“So, what’s next?”
“I don’t know. I suppose just get my head down, get the exams out the way and
then get my last bit of surgery finished with.”
“Well, take care, I hope you get through
everything. I suspect you will.”
“Thanks.
Will I be needed at court?”
“Possibly. I’ll let you know.”
“I’m not unwilling, it’s just that I’d
rather I didn’t if I don’t have to. It
is a bit public really.”
“I understand. It may not be necessary, he may admit everything.”
“Yeah, fat chance.” I said.
“Really?”
“I’ve met the man, he’ll fight to the
end.”
“Maybe, but we can bring other pressures
to bear.”
“Like what?”
“Financial ones. He has a home and all kinds of other
investments. We can seize everything if
we choose.”
“Legal blackmail?”
“Perish the thought. Discretionary justice.”
“I like it.”
“Goodbye, Josie. I like you, and what ever you do in your
life, I am sure you will be excellent at it.”
He shook my hand and then kissed my
cheek.
“No matter what anyone may say, you are a
charming girl.”
Pete was my chauffeur, and he confessed
to have volunteered for the job.
“So, where to? The boyfriend or the parents?”
“I can’t face the parents, and Paul has
buggered off on some job. So the
cottage would be fine, I can have some peace and quiet for a bit.”
He drove in silence, sensing I was not
really in a chatty mood. We arrived at
the cottage at about eight o’clock. I
went to open the door, and he came with me, and checked the house out. He was about to leave, and hovered by the
door.
“Look, tell me to fuck off if you like,
but you wouldn’t fancy a meal at the local, would you?” he asked.
I almost burst out laughing, as he was so
shy about it, and looked nervous. I
didn’t laugh, and worked out that it was late and I didn’t fancy cooking.
“Why not? Okay,” I said, and he grinned like a schoolboy. I called Paul, and found he was ensconced in
some Hotel in Newquay. He was a bit
humphy with me for being a miserable cow on the phone, and the conversation was
hardly ideal. I was not going to grovel
to him. He claimed to have told me, but
I had a lot on my mind.
I sensed that we had had our first tiff,
and hoped we could recover.
Pete took me to a different pub to the
one I used to go to with Paul, for which I was grateful.
I started to relax, and he told me about
his life. He was single, and looking,
at which point he gave me a leer, and I just laughed and shook my head.
He loved the job, and was determined to
stay on firearms teams for as long as he could. We had a pleasant meal, and he made it quite plain he fancied me,
and I found it amazingly flattering. I
was not in the mood to go through difficult explanations and possible
confusions, so I let him know I wasn’t interested.
He dropped me off, and I locked the
doors, and had a long soak in the bath.
My breasts were certainly respectable
enough not to require the extra forms.
I would have liked them to be a little bigger. My figure was improving, and my hips and bum were certainly
‘fuller’ than they had been. I was also
getting a little podgy, so I made my mind up to start taking some exercise
every day.
I went to bed rather upset that I was
alone, but satisfied that at least one hurdle was out the way. I drifted off to sleep, vaguely wondering
what Pete would be like in bed.
The next day I returned home to my
parents and settled down to get my ‘A’ levels done. I followed my own instructions, and was up early every day and
went for a run before breakfast. After
a week, I had two companions, as Ed and Pete came with me. One of the drawbacks of their job was a lot
of static work, and they rarely got time for this. So with two really hunky guys, I did a three mile circuit around
the nearby park and streets.
One of the first things I noticed was
that my boobs hurt. Jogging was
dangerous. I was introduced to
‘jogger’s nipple’ and invested in my first sports bra.
After a month, I had lost the fat, and
even gained a little weight. I was
perturbed about this, but then Pete explained that as I was exercising, I was
eating more, and the muscle was heavier than flab.
I was still a good weight for my
height. Having been a short guy, I was
taller than average as a girl, so my nine and a half stone (133lbs) was
reasonable for an active eighteen-year old.
I was taking my pills, and even attending
college regularly. I had thought I
wouldn’t want to, but everyone was brilliant, and I eagerly sought out people
my own age.
Paul came back, and things were a little
strained between us. It was odd, as I
seemed to be growing up, and as I did so, his place in my life was less
vital. I had other friends of my own
age now, and would want to spend time with Debbie and Caroline. He was a little distant, and although we
still enjoyed being with each other, and sex was still great, I realised that
he was unhappy with the way things were going.
One Friday in May, he took me to a really
fancy Hotel called the Four Pillars at Sandford-on-Thames, and paid for a
really expensive meal.
We had just finished an exquisite
dessert, and he took my hand across the table.
“Josie, we need to talk.”
“Ohoh, that sounds ominous,” I said, and
he half smiled.
“Look, I don’t really know how to say
this, and I don’t want to hurt you by saying the wrong thing. But I sense that things gave changed.”
I looked at him, and his frown was so
deep, I was worried.
“Go on.”
He looked around, and tried to formulate
exactly what he wanted to say.
“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you
after the London thing. I just needed
the space. Everything was you, you,
you. And I was feeling squeezed out.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
He shrugged.
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Fucking off to Newquay didn’t hurt?”
“I said I was sorry for that.”
“I know. Go on.”
“I said before it was like watching a
butterfly emerging, well, it is still like that, and you’ve the most beautiful
wings. Every flap makes me feel
threatened, and I feel that you are longing to be free.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I don’t know. On the one hand I want you to be with me, and yet I feel that I
am imprisoning something which should be free.”
“I’m not an animal.”
“No, you are a beautiful woman, with
laughter in her soul, who needs to be free to laugh and to run, and to live
life to the full.”
“I also have a mind, and a right to make
my own decisions,” I pointed out.
“Agreed.”
“Look, Paul, we found each other when we
both were in need. The way I see it,
our needs have changed a little. You
are more confident with whom you are, and before you deny it, I have seen you
chatting girls up. I am also more at
ease with whom I am. I have made
friends, and I need them as well as the love that you give me. I have to get through a serious surgical
procedure, and what lies beyond it.
“I am eighteen. I have missed out on being a girl for eighteen years. But you are one of the few people who can
really understand how I feel, just as I know what you have gone through. The
crux of all this is actually basic.
“You want a wife. I know it and you know it. You have reached that point in your life
where you yearn for that domestic arrangement, and it would be topped off by
children. I’ve watched you look at dads
in the park playing football with their kids, so I do understand.
“I’m not ready for that. If I was, I would be at your side like a
shot, and would probably be happy to be your partner for the rest of our
lives. I do love you, but I am not ready
to settle down. My wings are still
flapping, and I may want to try them out, but I may not. I do, however, need the freedom to choose.”
He still held my hand.
He nodded.
“You are right, I have tried to find the
right words, and found it hard. I love
you so much, that I do want you to be my wife, and yet I can see that we are
not at the same place.”
We sat in silence for a while.
The waiter brought us our coffees, and we
sat and drank them.
“So, where does that leave us?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“I still love you, I just am not ready to
settle down yet,” I said.
“Well, shall we just stay as we are until
you get the urge to fly?”
“Is that fair to you?”
He smiled.
“I don’t know anymore.”
“Look.
I stay at home most of the time, and I go to school, and most weekends
we get together. I have no problem with
that, and if you are happy to keep going, I have no intentions of seeking any
other partners, if that is what you are afraid of,” I said.
“You would have no problem attracting
them.”
“Yeah, but keeping them?” I asked.
He laughed.
“I was going to ask you to move in with
me,” he admitted.
“I know.
Do you really want me to?”
“You know I do.”
“I’ve thought about this, and I admit it
would be fun. For a bit. Then you’d be off on your job, and I’d be
left at home, feeling responsible. I
think it is best we leave things as they are.
If things change, then I will deal with them, but to use your cage
analogy, I don’t want to be penned in, just yet.”
There was something else on his mind.
“Josie?”
“Hmm?”
“What about if either of us find someone
else?”
“Have you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then what about it?”
“Would you be honest with me?”
“Would you?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“Paul, the question is theoretical, but I
don’t know. We are in a
relationship. Despite our shortcomings
and problems, we have formed a real attachment, and I have no sudden desire to
form another one. The hassle is just
too great. But should I find someone
who blows me away, then I would of course tell you. I’d hope and pray that you’d do the same for me.
“I want you to be happy, and that means
if our relationship founders and we can’t fix it, we are mature enough to call
time and walk away still friends. I
need you Paul, I haven’t the words to express the thanks that I owe you for
what you have done for me, so lets not beat ourselves up over what may be. Lets live with what we have now.”
So we left things at that. Life would go on very much the same, and the
air was cleared, or some of it was.
I took all my exams, and by the end of
June, as I walked out of the last one, I felt an amazing sense of anti-climax. The results were not due out until August,
and I found I didn’t care less. I had
thought about University, and to be honest, I just wasn’t interested. I had a share in a business that was
solvent, at least. I was finally about
to become the person I always wanted to be, and I had a potential to live my
life.
Paul was away again, this time in
Scotland, and I had to admit that I was no longer so tied to him as I once
was. My group of friends was larger
than at any time in my life, and we decided to meet at the Feathers to
celebrate the end of ‘A’ levels.
My mother was brilliant, and had accepted
me completely for who I now was. Dad
was still a little funny about it. My
brothers had been amazingly accepting, as if they expected me to be a girl all
along. We weren’t that close, so it was
all academic really as we rarely saw each other. Both were married, one living in Wales, and the other in Cumbria. Both had settled into farming communities,
one as a vet, the other as a doctor. I
had nothing in common with either of them.
I had a shower and dressed in a short
skirt and sleeveless top. It was warmer
now, and I knew the Feathers got hot the last time I went dancing. I also wore sensible shoes that would not
hurt my feet. They had smaller heels,
and rubber soles.
As I looked at my reflection, I wondered
how different I would look in a month’s time.
My boobs had reached 36C by themselves, and I was perfectly happy with
them at that size. In fact, I was
really happy with my figure in general.
Physically, I was quite fit, and missed my police escort on my runs.
They were pulled off me, and had been
assigned someone else now. Lambert was
committed to the Crown Court, and was on remand in Brixton Prison. He was charged with two murders, and the two
attempts on me. Apparently, his minions
had decided to tell everything, and implicated him right up to his neck. Most only faced lesser charges, and were
more than happy to drop him in it.
The
Police, Serious Fraud Office and the DTI had uncovered over eighty
irregularities in his dealings over the years.
He was in serious shit, and every day another revelation implicated some
fine respectable pillar of society.
So far, eight others had been arrested,
and four faced charges. Six more had
fled the country, and one had been found dead in his car, having gassed himself
with exhaust fumes.
Tony Blair hung him out to dry, and was
distancing him with every moment that passed.
I picked up Stewart as usual, and we
arrived quite early at the pub. Several
of the others were already there, and Craig was partly pissed already.
“JOSIE!” he shouted, managing to
embarrass everyone who knew either of us.
“Hi Craig, you drunken git,” I said, and
he just laughed.
Stewart and I had something to eat, as
the last thing either of us wanted was to get too drunk. I only had two weeks before my operation,
and was beginning to wish it was all over.
“Hi Jo,” said Debbie, and she slid into
the booth beside me.
“Debbs, okay?”
“Yeah.
Almost.”
“Almost?”
“Well, Tim is being a silly sod at the
moment.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He is sending such confused messages. One minute I think he is interested, and then he is just so
fucking distant. I don’t understand him.”
“That’s men for you,” I said, and she
giggled.
“Do you like him?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s okay. He makes me laugh.”
“He makes everyone laugh, but do you
fancy him?”
“I suppose so. I would if he could be serious.”
“You’ll find that he is insecure, and
only plays the clown to mask something he is worried about.”
“That’s a bit deep,” she said, and I
grinned.
“I have had time to think deeply about
shit like this,” I said, and she laughed.
“So what do you reckon I should do?”
“Go for it. Tell him that you want to fuck his brains out and see what
happens,” I suggested.
Stewart overheard the last part and went
bright red.
“What?”
“Not you, tosspot,” I said, and he looked
relieved.
The evening progressed, and at one point
Tim Ryan asked me to dance. I noticed
he kept glancing at my tits.
“Tim, don’t do that sweetie, it is not
very polite. If you must know, it is
all me,” I said, and he went bright red.
We danced some more and I got close
enough to ask him about something.
“Tim, do you fancy Debbs?”
He looked embarrassed.
“”Look, she likes you, and you like her,
stop being a silly sod and go dance with her.”
He sort of smiled, and then it dawned on
me. He fancied me.
Oh Fuck!
Mega-fuck!!
Fuckity-fuck!
So as discretely and diplomatically as I
could, I said.
“Tim, you are a lovely lad, but I’m not
in the market, she is and fancies you, so make the best of it, boy.”
I then kissed his cheek and walked off
the dance floor.
I went to Debbie, and said, “I’ve
softened him up, go get him.”
She grinned, and I next saw them snogging
to a slow one.
Stewart came up to me.
“Come on Barbie, lets you and me boogie.”
“To this, you have to be kidding.”
“Oh, too good for me, eh?”
I grinned and grabbed his hand and pulled
him onto the dance floor. We took the
correct dance pose, and waltzed about for a bit, and then he let go of my hand,
and grabbed my bum with both hands.
“Stoo!
What the fuck are you doing?” I said.
“Shut up, and just go with the flow,” he
muttered, blowing into my ear.
We were about the same height, and I put
my arms loosely round his neck.
He didn’t force himself against me, and
it was like dancing with my brother, and then he kissed my cheek.
I stopped myself from flinching.
“Tosspot. Behave!” I said.
He did it again.
“Stewart, what are you doing?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Trying out a theory.”
“What theory?”
“That you taste as good as you look.”
I laughed.
Then he looked into my eyes, and I didn’t
like what I saw.
“Stewart!”
“Shh,” he said, and kissed me on the
lips.
I was quite shocked and stopped
dancing. He kept going, so to avoid
falling over, I started again.
“Stewart. Don’t, please,” I said, feeling
confused.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because…...”
“Yeah?”
“Because, you are confusing me,” I
admitted.
“You?
What the fuck do you think you’ve done to me?”
I
looked at him.
“Josie, you are, no Joe
was
my best friend. But suddenly you came
along and took him away. Then I was
spending time in the company of this stunning girl, who was nicer than Joe,
more fun than Joe, and yet did everything with me that Joe did. You think you are confused, what the fuck do
you think I feel?”
I clung to him, and suddenly felt so
guilty.
“Oh, Stoo, I didn’t realise.”
“No, I know. Life just went on, but I found myself falling in love with you,
yet all the time I knew that underneath, you were still my friend Joe, and I
went through countless sleepless nights.
Then I’d tell myself that you were my friend, and you needed a friend,
not a boyfriend, as you already had one of them, even if he old enough to be
your dad. Then, you’d ask me round to your place and we’d fuck about with
computers for a bit, and there you were with a short skirt, and those fucking
legs.
“Have you any idea how fucking gorgeous
those legs are?”
I was crying now, and I just clung to
him.
He stopped dancing, and saw the tears.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, and took his hand, and we
went outside. It was warmer than the
last time I had sat here with Debbie and Caroline.
“Look, I’ve fucked up, big time. Josie, I’m sorry.”
I took his hand.
“No, I’ve been blind and stupid. I expected everything to stay the same, and
didn’t realise that if I changed, then other things would too. I didn’t see what was happening right under
my nose.”
“You realise I still tell my parents that
I’m off to see Joe, I can’t bring myself to tell them the truth,” he said.
He squeezed my hand, and I found I liked
it.
“What a fuck-up,” he said, and I laughed.
“Yes, something like that,” I agreed.
“So, now I’ve been an arse, what
happens?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“Josie, I’m sorry, it’s the booze. I had one to many.”
“No you didn’t,” I challenged, and he
grinned at me.
“How’s what’s his face, anyway?”
“Paul, he’s fine. I think. He’s away in Scotland.”
Stewart was silent, and held my hand in a
vice like grip.
“Stoo, let the blood flow, please.”
“Sorry,” he said, and let go, a bit.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked.
“Shut up, I’m trying to unscramble my
brain.”
“Sorry dear,” he said, and grinned.
Despite my confusion, I laughed.
“You are so fucking gorgeous when you
laugh,” he said, spoiling my recovery nicely.
“Oh Stewart, you idiot,” I said, and he
just grinned again.
We’d been friends for years. I’d first met him when we were about eight,
and went to school together. We found
we liked the same things, and laughed at the same stupid jokes. We could both quote the entire Monty Python
repertoire from memory, and the Goons were our idols.
We were, as Stewart had said, best
friends, and were closer than brothers.
Until I fucked up the relationship.
I supposed we could stay friends, sort of like brother and sister.
“I already have a sister, and don’t want
another one,” he said, as if he was reading my mind.
“Look, I’m not a….” I started to say, and
he put his other hand up to my mouth.
“Never ever say that. I know exactly who you are, what you are,
and why you are. It is the ‘who’ you
are I am in love with. I find I think
of you every bloody day, and can’t wait to see you. You are the girl of my fucking dreams. And so you know, as far as I am concerned, you are a girl, no
doubt and no fucking question.”
I felt awful.
“I’ve fucked it now haven’t I?” he said,
and I nodded a little.
“Yup.”
“So, what happens?”
I was crying, because I realised now that
I loved him, I always had, but had never seen it before. It was a very different love to what I felt
for Paul, it went deeper and had gone on for longer. A lot of things became clear to me, and I was split straight down
the middle. On the one hand, I wanted
him as a friend, and for our relationship to stay as it always had been, and
now I discovered that that was impossible now.
On the other hand, I found I had a yearning to know him better and
deeper, yet I felt a degree of loyalty to Paul.
“I don’t know,” I said, being honest.
“Look, tell me to fuck off, and I will
just go somewhere quite and slit my wrists.
But seriously, I don’t want to split you guys up.”
“Shut up, tosspot,” I said.
He stared at me.
“Look, Stewart, don’t get cross with me,
and don’t push me. I just need a little
time and space. There is a fuck of a lot happening in my life, and I am hard
pushed to know which way is up at the moment.
You have been my friend for too long for me to ever tell you to fuck
off, and you mean so much to me, I could never really explain what I do feel
for you. So, just take a deep breath,
and count to a couple of million or something.”
“One, two, three, four, five...”
“To yourself,” I said, and he grinned
again.
Somehow the spark had gone from the
evening. I didn’t want to dance again,
as this would bring me close to Stewart, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that, yet.
He took my hand again, but I didn’t pull
it away, although I was tempted. This
was heavy.
“Hey, we could go back to your place and
play Halo?”
I smiled, as he was such a dork
sometimes.
“Shut up, Tosspot.”
Debbie and Tim came out, and slumped onto
the bench next to us. Debbie saw we
were holding hands and grinned at me.
Tim was draped around her shoulders in a very possessive and rather
proprietary manner.
“Hey guys, what’s up?” Tim asked.
“Just cooling off,” I said.
“You’ve been here ages.” Debbie remarked.
“Lots to talk about,” I said, and she
looked closely at me, and then nodded.
“Come on Tim, lets go wake up the ducks
on the river,” she said, standing up and dragging him off after her.
“How did she know to do that?” Stewart
asked.
“She is a girl, we know little things
like that. She knew we need to have
some time by ourselves.”
“Do we?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“Oh, what for?”
“To talk.”
“What about?”
“Life, us, you, me. Shit Stoo, everything.”
“What’s to say?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, don’t get me wrong, I agree that
talking is good, but I said my piece, all I want to know is where do we go from
here?”
“Where do you want to go from here?” I
asked.
“I think I just want to know if I am
wasting my time, or whether you feel anything for me?”
I squeezed his hand.
“You have to ask that?”
“Yes.
I fucking well do. I am so
fucked up by this, I really do,” he said, quite heated, and I looked away.
“Sorry,” he said.
I shook my head, I couldn’t speak, the
tears were threatening me again, bloody hormones.
“Josie, look I’m sorry, I am doing
everything you asked me not to.”
I turned back to him.
“Well go on. Test your theory.”
“Huh?”
I grabbed him and kissed him, and after a
stunned second or two he responded, and our tongues touched. He suddenly
responded passionately, and held me very tightly, and gently stroked my breast. My nipples immediately hardened, and the
kiss entered another dimension.
He broke away first.
“Fuck!” he said.
I smiled.
“Well?”
“Huh?”
“Do I?”
“What?”
“Taste better than I look?”
He simply grinned.
“And does that answer your question?” I
asked.
He looked at me, and nodded.
“Good, so come on, I’ll take you home,” I
said, and stood up.
I drove carefully to his home, and
stopped outside.
“Thanks, and I am sorry.”
“What for?” I asked.
He grinned.
“Falling in love with you for one.”
“Look, I don’t know what is ahead for
either of us, but don’t expect anything from me for a bit. I have things to sort out, and I really
value your friendship. So, just hang in
there, okay?”
He leaned over and kissed me gently on
the lips.
“If you’d ever told me we’d end up kissing,
I have freaked out. But you are a
really good kisser,” he said.
“So are you. G’night.”
Chapter 7