Diane Bradley was always first.
First for wear a Bra in Junior School.
First to get suspended for wearing too much make-up.
First to get suspended for wearing too high heels to school.
First to get suspended for wearing skirts that were almost indecently short AND stockings.
First to get her Nose Pierced.

The Black Cab

The lift doors opened and two tall slim ladies emerged into the Hotel Lobby. They caught the sight of themselves in the mirror and they smiled at each other. Then as if they owned the place, they walked directly into the bar that adjoined the Michelin 3* restaurant that the hotel boasted. The Maître D asked,

“Are you dining with us tonight ladies?”

“Yes, yes we are,” said one of them.

I was sitting at my desk going through some paperwork when the door to the office opened and in walked a man in a Police Inspectors uniform.

“Sergeant Dobbs, I understand that you know the Gibbs family?”

“Yes Sir. I guess you don’t know that Nick is, sorry was my adopted brother. He changed his name back to his original one when he met his birth parents a few years ago.”

The officer sat down with a sigh.

“I’m going to need you to go and break the bad news to Mrs Gibbs. It will be better coming from you.”

My phone was ringing. From the caller ID I could see that it was my dear Mother. It was just after seven in the morning on Christmas Eve and the last thing I wanted to do at that particular moment was speak to her. I was doing very well in my life without her trying to set me up with every available and not so available women she could find in her extensive social circles. There was a reason that I’d always fobbed them off and she’d find out why soon enough.

“Mr Charlton, unless you are prepared to tell me your troubles I really see no point in us continuing these sessions. Well?”

I’m Paul Charlton and I’m sitting ‘in the Psychiatrists Chair’. I was here because I'd lost it in a very big way and had a breakdown. That breakdown had led to the end of my marriage and thence to me becoming homeless and virtually penniless. Now three years later I was trying to rebuild my life but one huge thing was getting in the way. That was my secret.

I didn’t reply straight away. That didn’t matter to Dr Yacub Pakker, my Psychiatrist.

It was just before 9pm on a cold blustery early Februrary night. A Friday night to be exact.

Two days after Christmas and I was starting to get bored. Another week before I had to return to work and I didn’t have anything to do.

All the Christmas Day detritus was put away on the 26th. My visitors left the same day as well and now the place is quiet.

In the Psychiatrists Chair -2 (Autumn 1968)

“Come on in John and take a seat.”

The client didn’t say anything. He was a teenager and was still dressed in his school uniform. The look on his face said that he didn't want to be here.

The sergeant had just released my ankles when his radio bleeped.

“Yes?”

“We’ve got her,” came over the radio, loud and clear.

“Thanks, out.”

He looked up at me and saw my smiling face.

Monday dawned grey and cold. I looked out of my Hotel window at the myriad of people scurrying off to work and felt more than a few pangs of regret that I wasn’t amongst them. My daydreaming was abruptly ended by my phone bleeping.

‘Get some sleep? No matter if you didn’t. Rent a car and drive west along the M4. Leave your hotel by 10am. I will be watching you. Don’t speak to anyone especially the police.’

The atmosphere between the two of us the next morning was pretty awful. I really didn't want to involve Ingrid in the problems I was having with Lindy. It wasn't fair on her.

Part 2 - Saturday

It was already broad daylight by the time I woke up. I wondered where I was for a few seconds before the sound of someone else in the room with me made me remember.

I’d been sitting alone in the restaurant for more than half an hour. It was starting to dawn on me that I’d been stood up.

The phone rang for the umpteenth time that day. Until now, I’d ignored the ringing but this time well, enough is enough. All my friends and business associates knew never to ring me when I was working so whoever it was ringing was going to get an earful from me.

“Breathe In”

“I am breathing in.”

The woman laughed and pulled the corset laces a bit tighter.

“Oommpphhh” gasped the man.

“It is still not enough. If you want to escape that posse by appearing to be a Saloon girl then you are going to need to have a lot more waist.”

The man looked at her with hatred in his eyes. He loved her but this was pure torture.

It is almost Pantomime Season here in the UK so I thought that this tale might be appropriate. For those who don’t know, Panto is a wonderful chance to play roles of the opposite sex. For example, the principal boy is played by a woman etc. I wrote this tale sitting on a beach near the Island of Nose Ve (means 'Call that an Island?'), Madagascar in November 2006 while photographing White Tailed Tropic Birds.

A tale of belated revenge over a bullying family.

A little bit of fun about someone who writes under an alias. This may sound familiar to one or two readers…

Scene: On an island somewhere in the Caribbean.