Dieithryn Chapter 2

© Maeryn Lamonte 2026

Friday (day 1) part 2

“It was a sort of country manor house transformed into a luxury resort. The main hall had been turned into multiple suites, double beds and en suite bathrooms, immense closets with mirror doors. The stable block had been converted into a series of boutiques. Hairdressers, makeup specialists, manicure and pedicure places, fitting rooms for lingerie and different sorts of clothing, from casual to ball gown. The nature of the place wasn't obvious from first appearance, and I only started to pick up on it after my driver told me he’d return in time to take me to the funeral the following day.

“‘My things.’ I waved at the rear of the car.

“‘They’ll be safe in the car until tomorrow. Our vehicles are kept in a secure parking garage with twenty-four hour surveillance.’

“‘But, my toothbrush.’

“‘I’m told everything is provided. I will see you at eleven thirty tomorrow.’

“I’d made my aunt a mental promise not to fight, so I let him leave. I then committed myself to the care of my hosts.

“It left me conflicted, I can’t begin to tell you how much. This was something I’d been fighting for nearly five decades, and it went against everything in my nature to give in to it.

“Almost everything. Deep deep inside of me a tiny voice called out for me to surrender, to allow myself to be treated with these strange, soft, sweet-smelling activities.

“Almost as a punishment to myself for agreeing to Daisy's terms I suggested they start with a whole body waxing. Rather than warn me off, they smiled and agreed.

“‘The best artists prepare the canvas first. You won’t regret this.’

“I nearly did. I have quite a naturally hairy body, and they grow quite long. I imagine for women who have the procedure done regularly, the hairs being removed are short, thin and sparse, meaning the pull is significantly reduced compared to gorilla matting like I had. The follicles are larger, more deeply entrenched, and everywhere. With the hairs lying flat, the wax tends to pull at angles rather than straight away. The result is a degree of pain that goes beyond anything I’ve experienced. And not just the once, but so many times over.

“I was tempted towards profanity but managed to settle for screaming like a girl and crying like one.

“I half expected to be told not to be such a cry baby, but my aesthetician – yes, my first time encountering that term too – a smooth skinned trans woman who paused briefly to offer a little sympathetic advice. ‘First time’s the worst,’ she said. ‘Best to do it quick before you talk yourself out of it. It gets easier, even during this session, and you’ll be so glad you did.’

“I clenched my teeth and let her continue. It stayed excruciatingly awful for a long while, but then it eased and finally it was done. I was bleeding from a few pores where the follicles had been pulled out at too oblique an angle, and my whole skin tingled in an almost erotic way.

“‘You were so brave,’ my torturer said without the least hint of condensation. ‘The worst is over. It only gets better from here.’ She wrapped me in a soft, white dressing gown, gave me a quick hug and propelled me towards a door.

“Which led to a bathroom and a painfully hot bath in rose scented water and so many bubbles.

“A young woman joined me once I was submerged. ‘I’m Chelsea. You don't mind, do you?’ she asked. ‘I can arrange for a trans girl to do this if you prefer, but we’re girls together, aren’t we?’

“I was still reeling from the sensation of having all my body hair stripped out of me. I shrugged and nodded, which she took as a sign that she should go ahead. I was treated to the most thorough head massage while my hair was lathered up and rinsed away three times, then a fourth with conditioner.

“‘I’ll leave you now,’ she said. ‘Don’t be too long. Mandy’s waiting for you through there. She’s patient enough, but she does her best work with people who don’t keep her hanging about.’

“‘Mandy?’ I asked.

“‘Our hairdresser. Let her do her magic. We can always turn you back afterwards if you need.’

“A degree of mystery there, but I followed Aunt Daisy’s last request and let Mandy do her creative worst. Or best, depending on your point of view.

“I won’t bore you with any more of the details, other than to say they covered bits I wouldn't have thought were needed. By dinner time I’d had my nails and face painted – different paints, if that even needs saying – I’d had appendages of size appropriate to my body shape attached to my chest with a sort of glue and blended in to my skin until even I couldn't tell where the prostheses ended and my actual skin began, I’d been fitted into an array of lacy undergarments that were a little restrictive but not uncomfortable, and I’d been helped into and out of a selection of dresses, skirts and trousers.

“Somewhere along the way, a black dress had been put aside for the funeral without me noticing. I chose a selection of everyday clothes and left wearing something formal enough for dinner, but not quite a ballgown.

“‘The rest of your choices will be hanging up in your wardrobe by the time you’re done with dinner,’ I was told. ‘We’ve taken the liberty of choosing a nightdress for you, based on your preferences.’

“‘I’ll be leaving tomorrow,’ I said.

“‘We’re aware. There's a suitcase large enough for everything in the wardrobe, and we’d be happy to pack for you while you relax a little tomorrow morning.’

“‘All that stuff is mine?’

“‘What can I say? I could wish for such a generous godmother.

“‘I don’t know what you’d like to do after dinner. Some of our guests like to stroll around the grounds. Others like a game of something, and others still like to chat over a cup of hot chocolate. Whatever you choose to do, you’re among friends here.”

“This place sounds remarkable,” Gwen said. “I don’t suppose you have the details?”

“I do, but I’m not sure Patrick will be so keen.”

“Maybe not, but you never know till you try, eh?”

“Maybe You're right.”

“You’re telling me your aunt organised this without talking with you first?”

“Oh yes. In fact if she had raised the idea, I’d have vetoed it straight away.”

“You didn't like it?”

“No, I loved it. By the end of the evening, I’d got over my lifelong tendency to self sabotage. I realised I had no-one left to pretend for. My parents were in the ground and Lynn and the kids couldn't be more disappointed in me, even if I turned up wearing a frock, so why not?

“The feminine part of me that I’d recognised at an early age and learned to suppress, partly because of the disapproval my parents – for which read my mum with Dad agreeing with her because he knew what was best for him – and partly because of the reaction of the small handful of friends – Lynn included – who I’d told about it. I’d never done anything more than talk with that select group of now former friends, and I’d struggled through all of my life as a result. Now, out of the blue, my feminine side had been released from her shackles and she’d come out swinging. I didn’t stand a chance.

“I spent a lot of the evening by myself, exploring the newly released feelings, but I did take time to talk to some of the other guests, and even the trans staff. It was eye opening to discover that I wasn't alone, that a lot of my experiences matched many of their own.

“I met people who felt stuck in the middle, who lived most of their lives as I had, expressing themselves as their physical gender, but on a regular basis they would come to this retreat and embrace the girl inside them for a few days. Others, much the same, topped up their girl time sleeping in frills and lace, in many cases alongside an understanding and accepting spouse. Others were embarking on a year’s real life test living full time as a woman with a view to having corrective surgery at the end of it.

“I retired to bed early, but not that early once I'd gone through the skin cleansing and moisturising ritual. I changed into the white cotton nightdress, brushed my teeth with the brand new brush that came with the room, and slipped between the sheets.

“Hairless skin and rebellious boobs meant it took me a while to settle, but when I did, I slept more soundly than I had in all my life. For the first time in my living memory, the burden I’d been carrying was gone.

“The following morning I woke early without the need of an alarm. Another sunny day beckoned, so I dressed in a short skirt and sleeveless top before skipping – yes, I actually skipped – down to breakfast. I wasn't the first, but that was probably a good thing because I was greeted with a barrage of compliments which left me feeling good.

“A couple of the guests were planning on going for a swim, but I didn't want to risk ruining my hair.” I touched my tresses self consciously.

“This was what, what was her name, Mandy did for you?”

“I’ve grown it long all my life – probably my only concession to my inner woman – but never really styled it. I’d probably have to have most of it cut off if I wanted to go back to my old self.

“Anyway, the rest of the group decided to go for a short walk. The roads around the retreat were fairly quiet and it gave me some practice walking in heels, even if they were barely that.

“The others gave me some tips on speaking. You know, avoid the Monty Python falsetto, focus on relaxing your throat muscles and just raising the pitch a small amount. I was kind of getting the hang of it by the time we made it back.

“One of the hostesses was waiting when we reappeared and led me off to get ready. Another makeup session, which apparently would have been more of a tutorial if I’d not disappeared on the walk, and then into the black dress I’d chosen for the funeral. An extra inch on the heels, sheer charcoal tights, a small hat with a veil and a pair of black lacy gloves and a small handbag – a clutch bag, I think they call it. Barely room for my mobile and my wallet. I didn't recognise myself when I looked in the mirror.

“Time had flown by and my car was waiting for me before we were done. Same car, same driver. He held the door for me and smiled encouragingly as my hostess gave me a few last minute pointers on how to climb in and out of the vehicle with appropriate elegance.

“My driver glanced at me in his mirror as we pulled away from the resort. I’d felt safe there, and now I was heading towards a church full of strangers wearing a frock. I felt unexpectedly good, but nerves began to flood through me. I had my eulogy prepared, but I wondered how appropriate my words were now, or how they would be received, especially from a man in a dress.

“‘If it helps,’ my driver said, 'you look really good. If I hadn't dropped you off yesterday, I wouldn't have recognised you.’

“‘Thanks,’ I said, not sure how much I believed him.

“The church was nearly full when I arrived. An usher – or are they only for weddings – led me to a seat near the front. Heads swivelled in my direction all the way, though whether or not that was because they were wondering who I was remained to be seen.

“The service was fairly traditional with hymns and readings and a homily from the vicar – at least I wasn't the only bloke in a dress. Eventually it came time for the eulogies. A lengthy list of people I’d never met although Aunt Daisy had spoken of them over the years.

“Finally it was my turn. I’d been flipping through the notes I’d prepared and so little of it seemed appropriate. I tucked them back into my handbag before standing and making my way to the lectern.

“‘I’ve been sitting here for the last half hour watching a parade of strangers come up here to pay their respects,’ I said. ‘I suppose it’s my turn to do the same for you.’

“My name appeared in the order of service as simply my first initial and my surname. No title, no explanation. Up to me, I supposed, to decide whether to bluff it out or come clean. Up to that moment I hadn’t decided, but like I said earlier, I was a little too prone to honesty.

“‘Aunt Daisy – she wasn’t really my aunt, but we all called her that – was my godmother. I worked it out once, genealogically speaking. She was my second cousin once removed. She and my mother shared the same great grandparents.

“‘I had a whole lot of things prepared to say about my aunt Daisy. How she showed interest in a kind of littlest branch of the family. My grandmother was orphaned at an early age and grew up with next to nothing. My parents were never that well off, but Aunt Daisy always took the time to check in on us, and on me in particular. Especially after my parents died and my life fell apart.

“‘More than anything though I’d like to remember her for the way she could see right into you. Into me at least. You see, she saw something inside of me that I’ve been trying to hide all my life. She tried to tell me it was okay to be the way I am, but I’d learned from so many people through so much of my life that it wasn't, that I wouldn't hear it from her. I kept on fighting it and losing.

“‘These last few years she’s been checking in on me every two to four weeks, and it’s only through having her in my life that I’ve lasted this long.

“‘Fact is, I was so caught up in my own problems that I didn't even notice she was sick. She never said anything, which was just like her. I don’t remember one time when she talked to me about something that was bothering her.

“‘She knew she wasn't going to be there for me for much longer, so she planned this last gift for me. Made it her last wish that I accept it even if I wasn’t sure.

“‘And so here I am, courtesy of my amazing aunt’s legacy. My mother named me Gareth, but she could never see the girl inside of me. It took Aunt Daisy to recognise that she had a goddaughter in me and to bring her to the surface.’”

“What happened then?” Gwen asked.

“Oh, there were a lot of people in the congregation who thought my revelation, and my turning up in a dress were highly disrespectful, and pandemonium reigned for a while. Did you know that word was coined by John Milton in Paradise Lost? It derives from the Greek and quite literally means all demons. He used it as a name for Hell’s capital city.

“I stepped away from the lectern and let the vicar restore order. It took a while, but everyone quieted. I looked to him for permission to continue, and the he agreed with some misgivings.

“There were a few grumbles when I returned to the lectern, but I waited for silence and they subsided eventually.

“‘I’m forty-nine years old,’ I said, ‘and before yesterday I never put on a dress. I only did so today at the invitation of the remarkable person we all came here to honour. It released something that I’d trapped inside myself for all of my life, and for the first time I feel truly alive. I came here to pay my last respects in a way that would show my gratitude to the woman who loved me and knew me best of all. It was not my wish to disrupt this service and I don’t want to do so any more than I have. If I’m not welcome, I’ll leave.’

“I stepped down and started walking down the aisle towards the main doors. I didn’t get very far before an elderly man in a black pinstripe suit stood up and reached out a hand to stop me. He led me back to the front of the church and stepped up to the lecturn.

“‘What she says is true, at least as far as Daisy’s gift is concerned. I’m Miles Jeffrey, Daisy’s solicitor and executor. She asked me to arrange for Gareth's, er, transformation, so I would say he, or perhaps you would prefer she, my dear, has more right to be here than almost anyone else present. And that this is precisely how Daisy would have wished you to come. You will remain here for the remainder of the service, if for no other reason than because you are invited to sit in on the reading of the will after we’ve laid your aunt to rest. If anyone here objects, then they’re welcome to leave. I’m quite certain Daisy would want you to stay even if more than half of everyone here else chooses to leave. Please take your seat.’”

“I did and, apart from a few residual grumbles, no-one felt like making so public a statement as walking out. Miles made sure I was standing with family when Daisy’s casket was lowered in the ground and, when all was done, herded us towards a line of cars.

“Daisy never married, so family meant brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces and nephews. There were about a dozen and a half of us including Miles and myself to distribute between three limos. I asked after my luggage since my own car and driver didn't seem to be present and Miles assured me it had been taken care of.

“The convoy took us the short distance to his offices and we were shown into a large board room and served champagne. The others congregated into little cliques and chatted together. None of them so much as looked my way, which suited me as all I wanted was to be left alone with my memories of the most special person in my life.

“Miles joined us soon enough, bearing with him a large manilla envelope. He invited us to sit which we did. I did so first with everyone else grouping themselves nearby but never next to me. It seemed Daisy’s family didn’t share her generosity of spirit.

“Daisy was aware though, because the reading of the will started with a statement to the effect that most of her estate would go to a collection of charities, but first there would be a few individual bequests.

“He went through everyone present in order of genealogical closeness, passing on heirlooms and small financial bequests. From the expressions, no-one received as much as they hoped for, but probably more than they deserved. Eventually it came to me.

“‘Gareth,’ Miles read, ’unless you have chosen a more suitable name.’

“I hadn’t yet. It was all too new. I shook my head gently.

“‘I’m sorry to have sprung this on you in such a manner,’ Miles continued reading. ‘I wanted you to admit to it so that we could talk about it first, but it seems we ran out of time, so this was my only option.’

“‘They say it takes one to know one, and in this case there is a great deal of truth in the saying. I’ve lived all my life as a woman, because that’s how I was born and that’s how I was expected to live. I didn’t mind it really, all the aspects of being a woman, because inside I knew who I was. The suffragette movement had made it possible to compete in a man’s world, albeit at a disadvantage, but I’ve always felt myself to be more a man than the woman everyone saw, which meant they underestimated me, and that gave me an edge. I beat them at their own game and enjoyed every moment of it.

“‘It was lonely of course. I could never imagine myself married to a man, and I was never drawn to sapphic relationships, in part because of the stigma associated with such behaviour, but mostly because in any such relationship, the other woman would see me as one, and that would be as much a lie as your marriage to Lynn.

“‘I know you tried to address your issues before you were wed, but she thought she married a man and looked for a way out from the moment she realised she hadn’t.

“‘It’s you more than anyone who has refused to acknowledge the truth of what lies within you, and I do understand why. Though I can only imagine how much, it’s evident that it must be harder to live as a woman inside the body of a man than to live as I have, but we live in kinder times than those in which we were raised.

“‘I have a proposal for you to consider, and it is only that. If you choose to refuse it then you may return to your current life and I will leave you a modest bequest, sufficient to improve your current situation. I’m hoping you will accept it though.

“‘I may have mentioned that we have roots in Wales. My great grandmother, your great great grandmother, was a flower of Cymru. About a year ago I bought a few derelict farm buildings, a part of a sheep farm fallen into disrepair, and engaged a firm of builders to refurbish them as a home. Even if I do say so myself, they’ve done an astonishingly good job. I prepared it in the hope that you will trust me a little more.’

“Miles lifted two small cases onto the conference table. ‘These are the keepsakes I asked you to bring. These are yours whatever you decide.’ He then lifted my sports bag full of clothes onto the table. ‘I didn't tell you to bring any clothes from your old life, but it doesn't surprise me that you did. You may choose to take these and return to your old life, in which case you’ll go with my blessing and a gift of a hundred thousand pounds.’

“Sharp intakes of breath from all around the table. It was twice the inheritance any of the others had been given. ‘If you choose this path, you go with my blessing, but I won’t be able to help you further.

“He pointed at two new suitcases that I vaguely recognised from the previous day’s retreat. ‘Or you can choose the path I dearly want you to take. To commit to the life you have only tasted since yesterday afternoon. These are all the clothes you chose yesterday. Take these and a new name to go with them and the farm is yours to call your home. There’s a new car to carry you and your belongings to the place, and if you maintain your new identity for a year at least, the deeds to the farm will be signed over to you free and clear.’

“More sharp intakes of breath. There was no way the farm as described could be worth as little as a hundred thousand quid.

“‘Live as a woman for a year to see how it appeals to you. There will be some challenges, I’m certain. People will see through the clothing and judge you for the choice you’ve made, but I’m convinced you’ll find the strength to endure as a woman.

“‘If you choose the last option, you will have to cut ties with your life up until now. The keys and documents for your car and flat will be left with Mr Jeffrey who will sell them and their contents for what he can gain. This sum will be transferred into your bank account.

“‘After the year is done, you are free to choose the life you wish to lead and I will have done all I can to help. If that is to re-establish contact with your ex-wife and children in whatever manner you decide to continue, then that too will be up to you.’

“There really wasn’t a choice. I stood and walked over to the suitcases from the retreat. ‘Gillian,’ I said. ‘I’d like to be called Gillian.’

“Would you like another cup of tea?” I asked Gwen.

Gwen looked at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Actually, I should be going. I take it that's pretty much the whole story?”

“Pretty much. I handed over the keys to my former life. The rest of Daisy’s relations were guided from the office, arguing profusely over the unfairness of it all. I had a few documents to sign and a set of car keys to collect. Miles also gave me a debit card for a new bank account using my initial.

“‘Lucky guess,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You could always have created your own account and transfered it if it hadn't worked. The hundred thousand you would have had if you’d gone back to being a man is in there. If your things sell for more, I’ll transfer the difference in time.’

“He helped me load my luggage into my new mini and I came here, via a supermarket.”

“Thank you for telling me. Patrick and I were going to walk down into the village for a drink after dinner. Would you like to join us? We can introduce you to a few of the locals.”

“Thank you. Are you sure your husband won't mind?”

“He’ll be fine. We’ll call about seven thirty? Do you have any walking boots?”

“Er, I don't think so.”

“Well flats then at least. It’s not much of a slope with a reasonably good surface, but not one you’ll want to tackle in heels.”

“Seven thirty. I’ll be ready.”

The suitcases with my new wardrobe in were large, hard bodied and fitted with four wheels each. Once I’d slid them out of the car and set them on their wheels they’d been easy enough to trundle as far as the foot of the stairs, but the one I’d managed to lug up to the top had taken more effort than I particularly wanted to put in. Besides, I was concerned I might damage the pristine paintwork. I manhandled (woman-handled?) the one I’d managed to get to the top into the largest of the bedrooms but decided I needed a different plan for the other.

So I fetched one of the smaller cases with my personal valuables.

I took it through to the living room and decanted it onto the dinner table. Some of the things would be heading up into my bedroom, but for now what I wanted was an empty case.

This I took to the bottom of the stairs where I cracked open the remaning larger case. The shoes went straight into the entrance area. I’d have to buy or make a shoe tree sooner or later, but for the moment they could pile up in a decorative sculpture inside the door. On the plus side I did have a number of pairs of flats and one pair of what looked like casual walking shoes. They'd do for later with a sensible skirt.

I transferred as many clothes as would fit comfortably into the smaller case and carried it upstairs. All the bedrooms were made up but the largest of them was the one that caught my attention. Floral duvet, dressing table with three fold mirror and surrounding lights, built in wardrobe with full height mirror doors, inside which was a chest of drawers. I upended my suitcase onto the bed and went downstairs for a second load.

The wardrobe came fully furnished with enough flock coat hangers to hang all my clothes without having to double up. The chest of drawers had enough options to organise all my different undergarments and leave me with a couple of extra draws. Makeup and jewellery maybe?

Back downstairs for more juggling with suitcases. The two large ones went into storage in the garage, the remaining small one with my precious memories went into the lounge where all the downstairs items came out and all the upstairs items from the other case went in. That then went up and was unpacked before the two cases came back down and joined their larger fellows in the garage.

Time was whizzing past and I didn't have much spare. I changed into a sensible skirt and blouse – no great fashion statement but potentially better for a countryside ramble – and threw together a quick seafood salad. I was done eating and busily lacing myself into my walking shoes when the doorbell sounded again.

I opened it to find Gwen and Patrick. If Patrick was happy about having me join them, he hadn't bothered telling his face. I transferred my phone and wallet into my sensibly sized everyday handbag, preloaded with all those useful extras – sensible being the watchword of the moment – and joined them.

The walk down to the village took about half an hour on a paved path that was so much better than I’d expected. The early summer sun hovered close to the horizon as we arrived at the pub. Gwen, who’d spent the entire walk chattering about things and people that didn't mean much to me yet, put an arm on mine, stopping me from going in.

“If you’re lucky you might see a green flash,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“Green flash,” Patrick said. Apparently my admittance of ignorance was enough to bring him out of his sulk. Any opportunity for a bit of mansplaining. “Happens sometimes when the conditions are right. The sun flashes green for a second or two before it disappears behind the horizon. I’ve seen it enough times so I’m going in. Gin and tonic, love?”

“Yes thanks,” Gwen said. “What would you like, Gillian?”

“Oh, white wine spritzer if you don’t mind.”

“Blokes usually drink pints,” Patrick said a little obstinately.

“Alright,” I said, “so white wine spritzer please.”

He looked ready to complain but Gwen gave him a look.

The sun disappeared without giving us the light show. Gwen gave me an apologetic shrug and guided me inside where Patrick had found a table and furnished it with a couple of pints and Gwen’s gin and it. She gave him an angry look, but now it was my turn to hold her back. I made my way to the bar and ordered my drink. The landlord gave me an odd look, but served me anyway. Apparently all he was really bothered about was relieving his customers of their money.

I joined Gwen and Patrick at their table and took a sip of my drink.

“My money not good enough for you then?” Patrick asked in a huff.

“It would have been if you’d bought what I asked for,” I replied. “Drinking beer by the pint leaves me feeling bloated, not to mention that beer has a lot of calories.”

“Oh, calories is it. You know you do sound like a woman.”

“I’m aware. I would argue that, apart from the physical abnormality, I am a woman.”

“And what physical abnormality would that be?”

“That I have a man’s body.”

“Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Yes I do. I’ve actually believed the same thing as you for most of my life.”

“Well then.”

“Well actually not then. You see for all of my life I’ve tried to live as a man, but I’ve been incredibly rubbish at it. I’ve been aware of this feeling inside of me all along that I ought to have been a girl, that I have a much better idea on how to be a girl than how to be a guy. I’ve fought it all along because that’s what my parents seemed to be telling me. Because the few times I found the courage to tell close friends about it, they freaked out and disappeared from my life. Because when I told my wife – then fiance – it built up over the years until she left me, taking my kids with her and, for all I know, teaching them to despise me. Although that could have been me because I really struggled to cope after she left. Parents dead, family gone and still trying to be a man.

“This whole thing about me putting on a dress and moving to Wales – my great great grandmother comes from around here I understand – it’s all on the suggestion of an aunt of mine who passed away recently. She saw this side of me, she says because she was kind of my mirror image – a man’s mind inside a woman's body – and wanted me to try this.

“She was buried earlier today, I mean that sort of explains the black dress when you first met me, but the first time I dressed as a woman was yesterday afternoon.”

“You're kidding,” Gwen said. “I mean you’re so natural at it. The voice, the way you move…”

“I had a few pointers from the people who helped me transition.”

“Mostly it’s the way you talk. Do you always chat like we did this afternoon?”

“What’s this?” Patrick was suddenly interested.

“Gwen popped around this afternoon for a chat. We had a cuppa and I told her a bit about myself. Was that okay? I didn't imagine it wouldn't be.”

“I don't know if I'm happy with my wife spending time alone with the likes of you.”

“And just what do you mean by that, Patrick Evans? Are you saying you don't trust me to spend time with people without your approval?”

“Well no, but it's just…”

“Just what, Patrick? Are you going to vet my friends at the book club or the choir now, to make sure you approve of them?”

“Well no, of course not, but he’s …”

“She is, Patrick. I know we’re a little backwards around here, but you could try and make an effort. Are you trying to tell me that I shouldn't call on our neighbour because she makes you feel uncomfortable?”

“Be reasonable Gwen…”

“Reasonable! Reasonable! She was nothing but polite when we called on her earlier, even with you having a fit in the background. She was kind and welcoming and a delight to speak to when I called on her earlier. And she’s been very forgiving of your oafishness this evening. You’re the one who wants to be reasonable!”

I put a calming hand on Gwen’s arm. Her voice had been rising with each fresh utterance and we had quite a growing audience.

“It’s alright Gwen,” I said. “You should cut him a little slack. I mean it’s not as if any of this is exactly normal, is it?”

“See you? I can’t think of a single bloke who’d show that sort of empathy.”

There was no stopping her. I looked around the pub where every pair of eyes was turned our way. I smiled nervously and wiggled my fingers in a sort of wave.

“Evening everyone. My name’s Gillian and I’ve just moved into the renovated buildings opposite Patrick and Gwen’s place. I expect you’ll all notice sooner or later, so I might as well tell you. My mother named me Gareth, and I don’t exactly have what you might normally expect to find under my skirts.”

An ominous silence loomed for an uncomfortable few seconds, then a voice – a male one – said in accusatory tones, “You’re English.”

“Well, my great great grandmother came from these parts, so I’d like to think I’m not all bad.”

The silence lasted a few seconds more, then almost as one, they all laughed. Even Patrick fought to hide a smile, and I’m sure I heard a woman’s voice somewhere in the general merriment say, “I like her.”

Once the laughter had started to subside, the bloke who’d accused me of having the wrong nationality asked, “So how long will you be staying?”

“I’m not sure. I hadn’t given it much thought. I’m hoping a year at least?”

“A year?”

“Yes, it's a sort of mid to long term undercover infiltration to find out if the natives are friendly. And if the weather really is as wet as they say.”

That earned me a new round of laughter.

“So what brings you here?” A different voice this time, from a different part of the room.

“My Aunt.” I said. “Well, actually she’s not – she wasn't my aunt. She was my mother’s second cousin, and it was her who told me about our shared, if tenuous, Welsh heritage. She left me the farm buildings in her will.”

“The field this side of them as well,” Patrick said.

“And how did your aunt come to own it?”

“I sold it to her,” Patrick said before I could answer. “The buildings were run down to ruin and I had neither time nor money to do them up, so I parcelled it up with about ten acres of pasture and put it on the market. I expected the buyer to tear the buildings down and start over, but she had the place renovated, and an amazing job she did on it too. Puts our place to shame a little. Ever since the work was done Gwen’s been pestering me to have our roof done the same.”

A little more laughter then a plump middle aged woman pushed her way to the fore. “And you are a man, aren't you?” she asked.

“I, er, I said as much just now, or at least I tried to.”

“So why d’you dress like that?”

“My aunt’s idea again, although only because she had a lot more courage and wisdom than I could ever hope for.

“I was born a boy, but I’ve always had a feeling inside me that I should have been a girl. I’m sure you’ve heard of people like that.”

“Heard of ‘em,” another member of my audience piped up. “Never met one, at least not till now.” He was about my age.

“That’s because our generation was brought up to believe that if you were born a boy then you should grow up to be a man. Any of us who felt they had reason to think differently learnt early that such opinions weren’t welcomed.

“I lived nearly fifty years trying to be the man everyone thought I should be and I made a real dog's breakfast of it. Failed marriage, failed career – perhaps not quite but definitely getting there – and, apart from Aunt Daisy, failed social life. I was so tied up in trying to be something that everyone else thought I should be, something that I really am not, that I ended up screwing my whole life up. My aunt saw that in me and tried to help me see it, except I wouldn't, right up to the point when she…” I couldn't bring myself to complete the sentence. I choked up and tears started to flow.

A few brave hands reached out to comfort me. I dug out a packet of tissues from my bag of infinite resources and stemmed the flood. My eyes would be puffy, but at least I’d avoided eye makeup on the advice of the people at the retreat. “No sense tempting fate,” they’d said although at the time my tears had been buried so deep I couldn't begin to imagine where they would come from.

Something to do with a long term denier of the truth, I suppose. I was so good at ignoring reality that I’d managed to bury the consequences of facing a future without my aunt.

With a last sniff, I eventually regained control and looked around at the room full of concerned eyes. “Anyway,” I said, “this was her idea, her last wish that I try it for at least a year. If she’d just told me about it yesterday I’d have laughed in her face. Ludicrous idea. But she sort of guilt tripped me into trying it. ‘Just let them do what they can and don’t fight back,’ she’d said, and by the time they’d finished I realised I didn't want to.

“Then after the funeral, when I’d admitted to everyone who I was and why I'd come looking like a woman. When I’d faced off against the, what must have been fifty percent of the congregation, who were outraged at me for wearing a dress to my aunt’s send off. When I’d been introduced to the worst of choosing to live like this, I was offered one last choice.

“Either I could go home with a large chunk of change and carry on trying to live my life as I had been doing up till then, only without Aunt Daisy to help me, or I could move to the other side of the country and try living like this in a place where nobody knows me.

“So here I am. I’m not trying to con anybody into believing I’m anything I’m not. I just want to try living like this for a while and see how it works out. If it upsets you, I hope you’ll be honest with me and say so to my face so we can sort out how best to deal with it.”

“Oh, I think we’ll be alright with you,” the landlord said. “At least most of us will.” He glowered at Patrick.

“Yes,” the plump lady from earlier said. “It’ll be a little like that thing on the telly. What was it, ‘the only gay in the village.’”

“Oh, Little Britain? I used to love that,” the woman standing next to her chipped in. “Dafyd Thomas, his name was. Matt Lucas was the actor. Looked quite horrible, didn’t he? Tubby lad that he was and wearing all those revealing clothes, and all the locals telling him he should get some…”

“Thank you Anwen, I don’t think we need the details.” That was the landlord again. “I’m Dylan, by the way. If anyone else buys you a pint without you asking for it, you just come and tell me.”

I nodded a nervous thanks. From the dubious glances being exchanged around the room, Dylan and the two ladies formed something of a minority where people like me were concerned.

“And if you're looking for a boyfriend,” Anwen said, “I’m sure I can think of someone to introduce you to.”

I couldn’t help smiling at that. “Thank you, but I’m not really looking for anything of that sort. I’d rather get used to being just another one of the ladies around here, at least to start with.

“Speaking of the ladies, I could do with freshening up. I know there are laws about which of the facilities I should use, but perhaps you have a preference for which would cause less bother.”

Dylan looked about him. “Quick show of hands,” he said. “Who has a problem with Gill here using the ladies?” A few hands went up. “The gents?” Surprisingly more hands. “Alright, tell you what,” he pointed at a door marked no admittance, “that goes up to the flat above the pub. You’re welcome to use the bathroom up there until we get this sorted out, which may take until next meeting at least.”

“Come on dear, I’ll show you,” the plump lady said, and led the way. “I’m Moira by the way.”

“Well,” Dylan said, raising his voice, “if we’re done with this little soap opera, do you think we can maybe start this evening’s meeting?”

“We’re still waiting on Bryn and Ioan, “Moira called back from the door. “They won’t thank you if you start without them.”

“Well, they should try turning up on time,” Dylan said. “We can start with a few things they won’t be so bothered about. The twmpath. Last meeting a date was suggested. That date is now six weeks away. We either need to agree it or set a new date.”

I turned to Moira and murmured, “What’s a toom path?”

She smiled and pointed at a door at the top of the stairs “Twmpath,” she corrected my pronunciation. “It’s like a barn dance. Will you be alright on your own, dear? Only I’d better stay and sort a few of the details here.”

I smiled my thanks and made my way up the stairs.

“Are we good with the date?” Dylan called. “We have a lot to organise in just a short time.” His voice faded as the door closed behind me. .

It didn't take me long. I took advantage of the visit to make use of the facilities then splashed a little water in my face until the redness around the eyes had faded. A quick wash of my hands and back downstairs in time to hear Dylan’s voice in full flow.

“Okay, so Keith, William, Bryn and Taffy to clear the chairs out and set up the trestles. Now, Moira, food?”

The plump lady smiled. “In hand, my love. At least it will be if all of you ladies come along to the coffee morning at the church on Tuesday.”

“Thank you. Patrick, music?”

My neighbour looked up as I retook my seat. “What date did you say?”

Dylan told him.

“Sure, we’re available.”

A few more tasks were delegated. I found myself admiring both the barman’s attention to detail and his ability to assign jobs. He’d about done when a couple more men dressed for the outdoors came into the bar. Dylan stepped behind the bar and pulled a couple of pints even as he dolled out the last few jobs.

“What did we miss?” the older of the two asked.

“You'd know if you turned up on time.”

“Couldn't be helped. We had a ewe caught up in some brambles. Took us a while to cut her free.”

“Well I suppose we can’t argue with that. Alright then, we have a new arrival, Gillian who’s moved into those buildings Patrick sold off six months ago…”

“The derelict stable block?”

“That’s right,” Patrick said, “only they’ve all been very nicely renovated.”

“Yes, well,” Dylan took charge again, “anyway Gillian, this old fart is Bryn Jones. The younger lad is his son Ioan.”

I waved a hand in greeting and received a couple of nods in return.

“Apart from that we set a date for the twmpath and assigned jobs. You two are providing prizes for the raffle.”

“We can do that. Have you not spoken of the sea wall yet? I’d have thought that was of more importance.”

“Important enough that we waited for you to be here. And now if we’re done with the dance, perhaps we can move on to the sea wall.”

“Yeah,” Ioan spoke up. “There’s been no progress on it for a couple of months now. What’s that about?”

“What that is about, so I’m told, is there is no more money to continue the work. The district council ran short on funds two months ago and put a pause on all projects of the sort, and they’re saying if we want it finished, we’ll have to fund it ourselves.”

There followed an explosion of outrage which I and a few others weathered with as much dignity as we could manage. I was a newcomer to the area so didn't have much to say on the matter, but it didn't seem that the angry voices had much worth adding either. The noise eventually died down until one fairly quiet voice succeeded in being heard.

“How much will it cost to finish?”

“There’s a fair question,” Dylan said. “All the seawall prefab blocks have been bought and are sitting down on the beach, so all that’s needed is to secure them in place. Unfortunately that needs some specialist lifting equipment and a fair bit of high grade cement to fix them together. The council were estimating about two or three hundred thousand pounds.”

Uproar again. It was a lot of money for a smallish village to find. It would take everyone remortgaging their homes to raise it. I waited for the noise to settle then asked. “Do you know anything about the vehicles you need?”

“What was that?” Dylan asked, raising a hand for quiet.

“The vehicles needed to move the blocks,” I’d seen them huddled together at the far end of the beach while we’d been waiting for the green flash that didn’t come. “What is it you need to move them into position?”

“What does it matter?” One of my unnamed silent non-fans grumbled. “What difference will it make knowing what vehicles we need?”

“Part of my job was finding cheaper ways of doing things for our company. If all you need is a heavy duty crane with maybe caterpillar tracks, then it might be cheaper to get a loan from a bank and buy one for the time it takes to do the work, then sell it back to the company when you’re done.”

“What!?”

“Imagine you went on an extended holiday abroad in the Far East. Say you planned to stay a couple of months. How much would it cost to hire a car for that period of time?”

“I hate to imagine,” Dylan said, his expression showing the beginning of an understanding of what I was saying. “But you’re saying if we bought an old but reliable car when we arrived, and sold it shortly before we left, we’d maybe lose a bit in depreciation, but it would be a lot less than the cost of hiring it.”

“And the same could well be true of the crane. We’d have to hire a qualified operator and sort out things like insurance ourselves, but we could save a fair amount given that we’re going to need it for several weeks.”

“And what if we can't sell the damn thing at the end?”

“Oh, that'll be part of the agreement we have with the company that sells it to us. They won’t want to lose it completely any more than we’ll want to keep it till it rusts, so we include a buyback clause, assuming we don't break it.”

“And if we do?”

“That’s what insurance is for. It’ll cost a bit more, but it’ll cover us for sure.”

“Could you negotiate a deal like that for us?”

“I imagine so. I doubt I’ll get very far over the weekend, but I could put out some feelers. You’d have to give me details of the company the council was going to use.”

“I could do that. What sort of reduction are we talking about?” Another doubter, verging on hater.

“I really couldn't say for sure without a bit of research, but if you wanted me to take a wild guess…”

“Please,” Dylan said.

“I’d say between a hundred and a hundred and fifty. I’m guessing the blocks will have to be cemented together, possibly with something special. I can’t see any way of reducing that cost at present so we’ll have to have the stuff bought and delivered normally, but we should be able to cut the hire cost by more than half assuming the work’s likely to take a couple of months.

“Give me a day or two and I can be more precise and more certain.”

“Then please would you do that. If we can bring the cost down as much as you say, I might be able to convince the council to cover some of it.”

“How come?” I asked. In my experience, when local government said they couldn't pay, they couldn't pay.

“The budget doesn't run to two or three hundred grand but if we can show we’re working to bring the cost down, they may be able to find maybe fifty.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You can use our Internet if you like,” Gwen said.

“Thank you, I think I’ll be okay, but if I’m not, I'll ask.”

“Well, I think that’s all for now. Gillian, if you give me a call as soon as you know anything, perhaps by Tuesday or Wednesday if you can.”

I nodded. I’d been wondering what I’d be doing with myself from here on. Part of the deal with my Aunt had meant me writing a letter of resignation and using some of my remaining annual leave to cover my notice period. HR wouldn't be too happy, but I wasn't that big a cog in the machine it would bother them much.

I wasn't sure I wanted to carry on doing the same sort of thing I’d been doing for most of my working life, but this would keep me busy for a few days and would hopefully make me a few necessary friends in an environment where I still wasn’t sure how warm my welcome was going to be.

“All right then, we’ll all meet up here at the same time next week for a progress report. In the meantime, we're still likely to be facing a bill of around fifty to a hundred thousand pounds, so maybe you can all give some thought to how we'll be able to pay that.”

The meeting broke up. Moira came over to made sure I’d be coming to Tuesday’s coffee morning, Dylan suggested I could pop in any time over the weekend to collect what paperwork he had and suggested I might like to try the pub’s Sunday menu. Nobody else cared to introduce themselves, so we finished our drinks, Patrick downing the second pint heroically despite Gwen’s silent disapproval, and headed for home.

Home. A strange term for a place I’d only just moved into and hadn't even fully explored. Gwen and I managed to keep Patrick walking in a reasonably straight line up to their front door, which occupied more of our concentration than you might think.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” She asked me when we finally arrived back.

“Shopping for one thing. I’ve a kitchen I need to stock up.”

“Maybe I could call round and we could go together. I have to get a few things too, so if we join forces we could maybe save a little petrol and I could show you the better options.”

“That’d be great, thanks. What time?”

“Oh, any time after seven thirty.” She smiled at my response. “Work never stops on the farm. Pat and I are usually up and about by five. The supermarket's about a fifteen minute drive away and opens at eight most days. We don’t have to go first thing, but it’s quiet and everything's fresh.”

“I’ll see if I can develop a few country habits then. Tell you what, why don't I give you a call when I'm ready and we’ll go in my car.”

There wasn't much else to do. I made myself a hot chocolate and headed upstairs. Normally this time on a Friday evening I’d flop down in front of the telly and find something to binge watch into the early hours, but that was one of the self-destructive habits of the person I was trying to leave behind. I had a quick wash and changed into my nightdress then settled into bed with my kindle.

Not that I could concentrate on the book. I pulled out my phone, which Miles had sorted for me earlier. It was already connected to the WiFi, and there was a new app that allowed me to override any of the house's smart devices. Not that I'd want to. Things like the security cameras and thermostat I’d want to keep running regardless.

I slipped on my dressing gown and slippers and headed downstairs, lights turning on ahead of me. It was a nice feature, but I’d have to make sure I kept my smart watch charged. I found the information pack Miles had given me for the house and wandered back upstairs.

“Jeeves,” I said, using the default name for the house’s digital assistant, “please turn off all the lights except the right bedside light in the main bedroom.”

“Of course Ma'am. Would you like to change the names of any of the house rooms?”

“Alright Jeeves, add my bedroom as a name for the main bedroom.”

“Yes Ma'am.”

“And please call me Gillian or Gill. A little of both.”

“As you wish, Gillian.”

“What are the other bedrooms called?”

“Bedroom two and bedroom three.”

Okay, so I didn't need to use its name to wake it up every time.

“Turn the light on in bedroom two, please.”

A light came on behind the door on the other side of the bathroom.

“Let’s call bedroom two the office and bedroom three the guest room.”

“As you wish, Gillian. The default names will continue to work.”

“Thank you. Turn off the office light please and start dimming my bedside light at ten thirty.”

“All sorted for you.”

“Can you wake me up at six thirty tomorrow please, my bedroom light to become gradually brighter over half an hour starting at six, then play some quiet music at thirty percent volume starting at six thirty and gradually increasing to seventy percent over fifteen minutes?”

“I’ve set the parameters of your alarm. Do you have a preference for music?”

“Something like the Carpenters, Eva Cassidy or maybe Katie Melua. Anything of that sort.”

“I have your preferences noted. In future you may simply ask for an alarm at a given time. I’ll keep to the current details until you ask to change them.”

“You are so much more sophisticated than Alexa, Jeeves.”

“I should hope so, but thank you for the compliment.”

“What else can you control?”

He – it – went through a list, including the security cameras, the central heating, the washer drier, which I hadn’t yet found, the TVs – there was one in my bedroom – and several kitchen appliances including the coffee machine. This was going to take some getting used to.

I read through the specs for a while then decided to try something.

“Jeeves, turn on the bedroom television and bring up a web browser.”

It obliged. So tempting to call it he.

“Now search for heavy plant hire firms in this area.”

“By heavy plant I believe you’re referring to construction vehicles rather than trees.”

“I am, thank you.”

I read for a while then created a document on my phone. Then I had a thought. “Jeeves, can you access the open document on my phone?”

“Yes Gill.”

“List the names and contact details for the following companies.” I rattled off the names of the likely ones I noted from my web search and watched as the details filled my phone screen. “Save the document as construction companies, then turn off the television.”

Jobs done without comment. I settled back with my book. There wasn't much to do until Monday now. This time I managed to read until the lights began to dim. I climbed out of bed and headed next door to the bathroom, again lights coming on automatically as I moved.

Toilet, teeth brushed and back to bed. “Lights out please Jeeves.”

He complied. How could he be an it if I was being polite with him?