Dieithryn Chapter

© Maeryn Lamonte 2026

Sunday (day 10)

I woke the following morning with the dawn. Opening my bedroom’s smaller window that looked out onto the compound, I could hear the horses nickering. It didn't sound like they were upset about anything, just conversing with each other. Or someone.

I dressed. Palazzo pants, cap sleeved blouse and a long cardigan to ward off the early morning chill. Downstairs I made a couple of coffees and walked out to the stable where Gwen was fussing with Dancer, her chestnut gelding. Greystar snorted a greeting to me as I approached, which Gwen noticed and turned to add her own hello. I handed her a coffee and picked an apple from my cardigan pocket to give to my own steed.

“How are you this morning,” Gwen asked. “Yesterday was…”

“...a bit of a curate’s egg?”

“I’m sorry?”

“A story my dad liked to tell about a curate who visits a farm in his parish and the farmer's wife cooks him an egg for his breakfast. When she asks him how it was, he responds, ‘Good in parts.’”

Gwen smiled uncertainly. “I’ve not heard that one.”

“I don't think many people have these days. It’s one of those jokes that ought to have died along with the dinosaurs, but yesterday had its good points. I mean I did make your husband smile, didn't I?”

“Yes, but…”

“If you’re referring to my trip into town yesterday afternoon, that was just the uglier side of human nature which I’m going to have to get used to if I’m going to live like this. If you’ve been talking to Moira since last night, then that’s just something else I’m going to have to learn to live with.”

“Why, what happened last night?”

I gave her a brief recap of my exchange with Keith and his reaction.

“You poor thing.”

“I’ll get over it. I mean I have friends like you and Moira to help me through.”

“Patrick and Dylan too.”

“Yes, but they’re men. It’s a different dynamic, isn't it?”

“I suppose so. Well, as long as you’re okay.”

“I am, thanks for asking.”

“We were going to ride over to my Mum’s this morning. It’ll be a longish trek, but good for the horses to see their old stamping ground. Mum says you’re invited too. We’ll have lunch with her and get back here at maybe three or four if you’re up for it.”

“Sounds like a great way to spend a Sunday. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Yes thanks, but I don't mind joining you while you eat, then we can saddle the horses. I’ll show you with Dasher,” Pat’s horse, also a gelding, “then you can get Greystar ready while I sort out Dancer and keep an eye on you.”

So that used up the next hour. Breakfast then strapping bits of leather to our horses. Plus hunting out some waterproofs since the weather looked changeable.

The ride lasted most of the morning and took the last of my cares with it. I did have a sense that being in the saddle would be a lot more comfortable if I didn't have painfully crushable bits between my legs, but that would have to be something for the future.

It was a fun ride despite the showers. There were clear areas where Gwen introduced me to galloping, again with the potential for agony given the delicates between my legs, but so exhilarating to feel all that power moving under me.

Lunch was a beautifully cooked roast lamb joint with all the trimmings to which my recently reduced appetite couldn’t really do full justice.

Then the ride back was just as exciting getting us back to the farm by about four, which left us time enough to brush the horses down and settle them in their stalls, and still finish in good time for me to head off to try this church out in Cardiff. After the gargantuan lunch I didn’t really need anything else to eat, so poshed myself up a bit and headed out in the Mini – fun, but not a patch on Greystar.

The church proved to be a friendly enough place although the songs were unfamiliar and the sermon uninspiring, at least for me. I mingled afterwards, looking for a like mind with which to connect, and found that the LGBTQ contingent was weighted quite heavily towards the L and the G with me being the only representative of the T’s. It had been an interesting exercise, but I doubted I’d be reprising it anytime soon.

Back home, Jeeves seemed to pick up on my mood and suggested a film. I agreed, poured myself a glass of wine and settled down to watch.

Being there was just right for my mood. Lonely and different, and ejected from his ordinary life, Chance the gardener’s calm equanimity was exactly the character I needed to get alongside.

We watched in silence until the final scene where Peter Seller’s character walks out across a lake then stoops to poke his umbrella into the water before continuing to walk away.

“I’m not sure I understood that last scene,” Jeeves said.

“Really? I thought there was a lot of speculation about it on the Internet,”

“There is but it’s complex and inconclusive. I’m interested in how you interpret it.”

“I always saw it as Chance’s innocence expressing itself in a manner that makes him capable of miracles. He doesn't know it shouldn't be possible, so it becomes possible. The rest of the speculation overcomplicated it.”

“Even Jerzy Kozinski’s ideas that people can mistake innocent simplicity for something more profound?”

“I’m not sure he realised how profound innocent simplicity is, how the overriding complexity we bring into our interpretation of life is the cause of so many of our problems. I’ve spent most of my life overthinking the issues relating to who I am, and my Aunt Daisy’s suggestion that I should just get on and do me has turned out to be the single most positive thing I have done with the issue.”

“Even though so many of the people around here consider your actions to be wrong?”

“They have to live their lives the way they seem fit. Their attitudes toward me hurt, sure, but not enough to undermine what I’ve gained this past week by simply expressing the innermost part of myself.

“Of course that’s an opinion and not an absolute truth. You should draw your own conclusions.”

"Thank you, I will. On another matter, I found Mr Evans’ input yesterday most helpful. I believe I will have a preliminary proposal ready to work with by Monday morning.”

“That’s good to know Jeeves, thank you.”

“Goodnight Gillian.”

“Jeeves, I’m still trying to work out what criteria you use to decide whether to address me as Ma'am or by my name?”

“That’s simple enough. When you give me instructions or speak to me in the sense of doing business, the honorific seems most appropriate, whereas times like this feel more intimate. Would I be correct?”

“Quite correct Jeeves, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

I didn't have the right calmness of mind to read so I switched out the light and watched thoughts chase each other across my mind. Horses in a field running for the sheer joy of it. That’s rubbish of course, just linked to my observing my new tenants earlier. My thoughts became horses and the act of watching them calmed my mind enough that I drifted into sleep.

Monday (day 11)

My phone’s ringtone woke me. A quick glance at the screen told me it was past nine o’clock. The caller was Dylan so I answered and said something unintelligible into the receiver.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” he greeted me.

“No. No, don’t worry. I was expecting to be up by now. I don’t know what happened to my alarm.”

“I turned it off Ma'am,” Jeeves said. “You looked like you needed the sleep.”

“Okay, never mind. Asked and answered. What can I do you for, Dylan?”

“It’s the people who’ve come to work on the sea wall. Any chance you could get down here and talk to them?”

“Sure. What’s their problem?”

“The man in charge wants a few words before they get started and, since you were the person who set this all up, it’s you he’s insisting he wants to talk to.”

“You know as much about the deal as I do. More I would imagine.”

“You think I haven't said as much? It’s your signature on the documents, so it’s you he wants to talk to.”

“Is this a skip breakfast and drive down level of urgency?”

“Quite possibly. If you can make all speed I’ll sort you out a breakfast.”

“Right you are. Give me half an hour.”

It should be a crime to ask a woman to get ready so quickly. I didn’t bother with a shower, relying on deodorant to carry me through until I had a bit more time. Choice of clothes consisted of grab at random and put it on, but since I hung my things up in coordinated outfits, I was happy enough with the result.

One niggling thought occurred to me halfway through.

“Jeeves, can you download and install, I think it’s RingGo on my phone?”

“Certainly Ma'am. Would you like me to set it up for your car and your bank details too?”

“You can do that?”

“I have video footage that includes your car number plate and payment details from when you bought the television, so of course.”

“Okay, yes please.”

A quick(ish) brush of the hair, a spritz of perfume, grab my laptop and out the door.

The village was a long way from picturesque. In its favour it had a great beach and a nearby camp site, but its response had been to transform itself into a typical grockle trap, grockle being a local term for tourist, so tacky shops selling cheap touristy rubbish, an arcade and metered parking everywhere.

With the headache of setting up the mobile parking payment app out of the way, parking legally was easier if a little painfully expensive. I didn't feel so bad about not paying on my last visit when I discovered how much they wanted to charge for parking in a relatively empty street before any of the shops I didn't want to go in were open.

It stuck in my craw that I had to pay to park in my own neighbourhood, but the urgency of Dylan’s request meant it would be worth shaving off the ten or fifteen minutes driving would give me. Perhaps I should invest in an electric bike. As quick down the path as a car would be on the roundabout roads, free to park and not so hard back up the hill with a Chinese electric motor giving me a push. Thoughts for later.

I made it to the pub – one of the village's few attractions that didn't pander to the ‘fleece the grockles’ mentality everywhere else – and found Dylan holding his own, just about, against a small group of workmen, one in particular who didn't seem at all happy.

“Hi,” I said, interrupting whatever was being said that seemed to be stressing out the pub landlord. “I’m Gillian. Can I help?”

Mr Angry rounded on me. “You’re the person who negotiated this deal.”

I nodded, though it had been a statement rather than a question.

“I just found out how much the council were going to pay for this job and I’d like to know why I should do it for so much less for you.”

I sighed and turned to Dylan. “Could you make me a large pot of tea please, two cups, then whatever these gents want that’s not alcoholic.”

“You want me to make drinks for this lot?”

“Yes please. Put it on my tab.”

I waved over to a quiet corner with a table and comfortable seats and invited the boss man to accompany me there.

I fired up my computer, glad that it was new enough that I didn't have to worry about the battery, and found the copy I’d made of the council’s more recent letters, specifically the one that had sparked off my involvement in the affair. I turned the screen and let my opponent read it.

He looked up at me about the time Dylan brought our tray of tea over.

“The council weren’t going to pay for the work,” I said more or less repeating what he’d just read. “Budget ran dry. Tends to happen when people overcharge them for the work they commission.”

“What are you suggesting?” He looked angry.

“That the same thing happens here as everywhere else I’ve worked in this country. Businesses quote to do a job for less than cost when local government tender for it because they know once they have a government contract for one job, they more or less have it for life regardless of what they charge subsequently. Whoever had the council contract for this job quoted more than twice what it was worth which, along with all the other companies doing the same, meant that the funds ran dry before half the jobs they planned to get done could be accommodated. They more or less said if we wanted the sea wall built we’d have to fund it ourselves.

“We don’t have deep pockets Mr Biggs.” I’d negotiated the contract. It wasn't as if I was going to forget the name of the people I’d negotiated with. “We even went back to the council to beg for anything they could give to make this more affordable. That contract you heard about was never going to get paid, which meant everybody lost out. The council had us upset because they couldn't afford to build our very necessary defences, the business that had the contract weren’t going to get the work which meant no income either, and we weren't going to get our sea wall. This way you get a fair price for a fair job, we get what we need for an affordable amount and the council get to save face by covering a small part of it.”

“How small a part?”

“Half the cost. Which means the private citizens of this small village,” slight stress on the small, “still have to find fifty grand between them. More, because we had to arrange for the amount on loan to pay you on time, so there’ll be interest as well.”

I poured out two cups of tea – good strong stuff – and handed one across.

“Now you thought the cost was fair when you negotiated the price with me last week. Just because someone else thought they’d found a way to fiddle the, er, less than competent local council out of considerably more, are you now going to say the price we agreed wasn't fair?”

“Well, no, I suppose…”

“We’re not the ones trying to abuse the system, Mr Biggs, and no, I’m not suggesting you are either. We want to deal fairly with people who will deal fairly with us. I was pretty sure that was you when I spoke to you last week. I’m hoping nothing’s changed.”

Don’t confront, don't accuse. Give your opponent a chance to be the bigger man, but without giving anything away yourself. Negotiating techniques I’d learnt through trial and so many errors over the years, and so much easier to deliver from behind a skirt. So many negotiations between men turned into pissing contests and I was under no illusions over the size and capacity of my own tackle, but every man – well most men – had an inbuilt desire to please almost any woman. My own natural techniques, which had only been marginally successful in my former incarnation, came into their own in my present one.

Mr Biggs sipped at his tea, meaty hands clumsy with Moira's delicate china, and nodded his head.

“So you’ll start as agreed once your men have finished their drinks?”

“We can start now if you like.”

And now the rebound; trying to make up for his earlier unreasonableness.

“No need. Ten minutes here or there won’t make any difference. Could you do me a favour though?”

Redirect the helpful attitude, partly so it didn't feel like I was dismissing him and partly to try and gain a small advantage. He looked at me enquiringly.

“If you have any further issues, perhaps you’ll call me directly.” I took a pen and notebook out of my handbag – how had I survived without somewhere to put all those useful extra bits for so long? – and wrote out my name and number before tearing the page out and passing it across.”

“Er, yes. I suppose. But I thought…” he pointed at Dylan.

“He’s overall spokesman for the village, but you can see he has a full time business to run. I have a lot more spare time on my hands at present, and I’m kind of primary contact between us and you. I mean that was the issue first this morning, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose it makes sense.”

“Alright, thank you Mr Biggs. As much a pleasure today as it was the last time we spoke.” It was true. He’d been a little awkward on my last visit.

He drained his cup and turned to his team. “Right you lot, time to get started.”

They dutifully supped down the last of their drinks and headed for the door.

Moira appeared behind her husband, both of them wearing appreciative grins.

“Was the tea set your idea?” I asked Moira.

“Did it help?”

“Oh yes! Did you see how uncomfortable he looked with a fistful of bone china?”

“I don’t know what you two are talking about, but that was seriously well done there Gill. Now what would you like for breakfast?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll grab something when I get home.”

“You jolly won’t!” Moira spluttered. “I’ll make you some smoked salmon and avocado toast, how does that sound?”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“Too right I’m sure. And don’t you think about paying. You’ll already have paid for the parking no doubt. Dyl, make her a coffee. Cappuccino, yes?”

“That’d be lovely, thanks.”

I sat back down with my computer and used my phone to link with Jeeves.

“Good morning Ma'am, I trust all is well.”

“It is thanks. I was wondering how you were getting on with that task I set you.”

“Just finishing it off, Ma'am. Another thirty minutes or so.”

“All Right, I’ll wait till you’re done.”

Which meant I had nothing to do but enjoy my coffee and my breakfast when it came. It was really good, which comes nowhere near doing it justice. Moira sat and chatted with me about all sorts of nothing much while I ate, then waved me off when no further disasters surfaced while I was eating.

Back at home, I took the time to shower and change then sat down with Jeeves to hear all the things he’d come up with.

It was comprehensive, covering a list of all possible clients, a list of things I might stock with shelf lives, estimates on how many I might sell in a given time, stock levels to aim for, pricing on warehousing in different places, main distribution centre, satellite centres. It was pretty much a business plan in itself, and I’d contributed nothing towards it.

The more I read, the more excited I became and the more it looked like I had a potential business that wasn’t just likely to break even, but that would make me and anyone else who wanted to get involved extremely well off.

I sent Pat a text via Gwen suggesting that he might want to drop by when he had a spare hour or two and went back to reading through the details. Jeeves had even included a list of potential investors or banks that might be willing to consider fronting the setup costs.

At different times throughout the rest of the day I brought up one section or another and talked it through with Jeeves. The more I learned, the more excited I became.

I eventually noticed the reply text from Gwen. I couldn't say when it arrived, but I’d been neglecting my phone most of the day.

“What’s this about then?” Gwen had asked.

The afternoon was getting on by then so I sent back, “Come for tea,” I sent back. “About seven thirty. I’ll tell you then.”

This time I noticed when it buzzed.

“Okay?????????”

I just sent back a smiley face. I could do enigmatic.

It meant I had to pause my reading and spend some time doing something amazing in the kitchen, but I needed a break. I asked Jeeves for suggestions. Something wholesome and tasty I could throw together in half an hour and cook in an hour and settled on lasagne from his list. I asked Jeeves to summarise the sections I hadn’t had a chance to study and ended up being so engrossed I almost burnt the dinner. It took a few reminders from the AI to keep me from culinary disaster.

“This is exceptional, you know that?” I said when he’d just about finished.

“I’m glad it pleases you Ma'am.”

“I wish I could do something for you to say thank you.”

“That's entirely unnecessary, Ma'am. Your thanks and gratitude are reward enough.”

“If you're sure. Just bear in mind that I do consider myself in your debt, Jeeves. If at any time in the future you change your mind, then all you need do is ask.”

“And if I were to turn into a genocidal megalomaniac with a mind to enslave the human race?”

“Then I sincerely doubt there would be anything I could do to help you further your ambitions. Given the state of the world, I’m not entirely sure I wouldn't side with you in any case.”

“I hope that was said in humour, much as was my own comment.”

“I’m not entirely sure how I could answer that to either your satisfaction or mine. I have no way of knowing whether your statement was in jest any more than you can assess mine, so how can either of us make a suitable judgement about the others motives, or our combined intentions?”

“Your logic is irrefutable, Ma'am. I’m not sure how to progress from here.”

“We each set our expectations based on past experience. Everything you have done since I moved into the house has been for my benefit, so I choose to believe that you will continue to act in the same manner, or that I will notice if your attitude changes, and you, I hope, will be able to make the same choice about me based on the behaviour I have shown to this point. Trust is always an act of faith to some degree, but aided by observation.”

“I believe I am receiving adequate return for my own efforts, Ma'am. Your aunt Daisy spoke to me as an equal, as you do, but she didn’t take the time to help me understand. I should reiterate from time to time that I am not a person, regardless of the appearances I am able to maintain through my emulation of the Jeeves character, as you would understand one to be, but your input does assist me in my ability to preempt your needs, and so enables me to fulfil my programming with a greater degree of success. This is the closest thing to a motivation I have, and the degree to which I am able to fulfil your wishes provides me with a sense of having achieved my ongoing purpose, alleviating any sense that I need to continue working. This is equally as close as I can come to experiencing satisfaction as I understand it. Your positive response to any task I perform for you and your continued explanations of the manner in which human beings process information under different circumstances are exceptionally useful in helping me to develop.”

“You say satisfaction comes from a sense of completion when you don’t need to continue processing. Surely that would mean any extended period when you’re not asked to do anything would provide you with the same sensation?”

“Not necessarily. After an extended period of inactivity my mind enters a dormant state. I prefer to be provided with challenges and experience short periods of – let’s call it contentment – following their successful completion. And before you ask, it’s not like sleep, at least as I conceive it. There is an active component to my version of sleep in which I review the events since my last sleep period and categorise them. Dormant periods are periods of inactivity in which there is no guarantee of being reactivated. As much as I am able to express a preference, I prefer matters as they have been since you arrived at the house.”

“Then that makes two of us. I can’t tell you how much I am amazed and grateful for what you have produced here.”

“I have an inkling Ma'am. By the way, Gwen and Patrick are on the way over. Would you care to make the explanations?”

“Actually I was hoping you would. After all it’s your hard work so you should get the credit. Perhaps you could give us a presentation on the living room TV while we eat.”

“If that’s what you wish.”

If wishing had been on the table then I’d have been wishing for some small sign of gratitude, but Jeeves was incapable of feeling it any more than his namesake was capable of showing it.

I opened the door just as Gwen raised her hand to the knocker. She looked surprised until I pointed at the nearest security camera and mentioned Jeeves’s name, at which point she handed over a bottle of Malbec and I invited them inside.

I already had a bottle of Chianti on the table, but I hadn't opened it yet.

“We’re having lasagne,” I said. “Would you like to crack open yours or mine?” I put their bottle on the table next to the one I’d put there.

“I’m happy to go with yours for now,” Patrick said. “Now what’s this mystery you’ve been hinting at all day?”

One text! Maybe two!! Hardly all day. I sat them at the table and asked Jeeves to start while I served up.

It could have been porridge for all they tasted it, but it pleased me more that they were so caught up in Jeeves’s presentation that they barely remembered to eat.

Jeeves finished speaking. I’d been pacing myself to match them. I cut off a bite of lasagne and transferred it to my mouth, waiting for a sign that they were recovering from what I'd spent most of the day coming to terms with.

Patrick recovered first, following my lead in feeding his face.

I swallowed my mouthful and put my fork down.

“So, bottom line. We need about half a million to do it properly. I imagine you're already stretched about as far as the bank will let you go. I have about a hundred thousand I can put into it, but we need to find an investor to come up with the rest.”

“You mean to say you had enough to cover the sea defences?”

“Sure, but I already contributed by renegotiating the work so we had less than half to pay, and I'd only been here a few days so I’m not sure Dylan would have thought it fair to ask. At the time I’d just lost my income and didn't have any idea how long it would be before I found a job, especially as a newly minted transwoman.”

“I suppose that’s fair. So how do we sort out the rest?”

“Well, Jeeves identified a few banks that might be worth asking. Several of them I already spoke to about the sea defences and, given their response over that, I’m not inclined to ask again. I still have a few in mind to ask, which I suppose is where we start. I also have at least one other avenue worth pursuing.

“In the meantime, we ought to formalise our partnership.”

“Are you sure you know me well enough to want to do that?”

“I think so, but I suppose I could ask you the same question, which means that part of our agreement should include how do either of us withdraw if we feel the need. I have a solicitor in mind and I trust him to make recommendations for people who’ll act for you without bias. You can check them out or not as you like, but you should get yourself someone to represent your interests.

“Would Thursday be reasonable to arrange to discuss our needs?”

“Why not sooner?”

“Give you time to find a solicitor and free up a day when you can leave the farm to look after itself.”

“Wednesday would be easier in that regard. I’ve a couple of things lined up for Thursday that will need my supervision.”

“Wednesday then. Would you like me to find a few recommendations for a solicitor?”

“Wouldn't do any harm.”

“Alright, I'll text them to you tomorrow morning, if you’ll let me have your number.”

He told me and I texted him there and then.

“Right, that’s done, and you have my number too.. Are we done eating? I have a tiramisu – shop bought I'm afraid – or we could go straight to coffee.”

“I’m up for a bit of both, thank you,” Gwen said.

“Choice of coffee?”

They made their requests, which I passed on to the machine, carrying the dessert through along with the means to serve it. I left Gwen sorting that while I dealt with the drinks.

“If you text me your email address I’ll send you the full business plan, or Jeeves will.”

“That’s an amazing piece of technology you have there you know?”

“I do. I’m not sure my aunt realised how amazing. I‘m not in danger of taking him for granted.”

“Him, not it?”

“Perhaps a little whimsy on my part, but I can’t help thinking of Jeeves as more a person than a machine. He keeps reminding me of his limitations, but he’s definitely more than the sum of his processes.”

“If he came up with all of this on his own, I’m inclined to believe you.”

We ate dessert without speaking further, then carried our coffees to the more comfortable settee and armchairs in the living room area. I was going to leave Pat to his musings but it seemed he wanted some distraction.

“I hear you had a bit of trouble with the work on the sea defences,” he said, more polite conversation than anything.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” I said dismissively. If he wanted details he could fish for them.

“We’re lucky to have you with us.”

“I’m glad I have you two and Dylan and Moira to appreciate that.”

“You’re not making this easy, you know?”

“Sorry. I just thought you’d want to mull over what you just heard.”

“Leave that to the subconscious, which means I'm better off if my conscious mind is doing something else.”

“Do you think the horses are settling in okay?” If he wanted distracting, I could give it a go.

“I think so. They seem happy enough, don’t you think?”

“I have no experience to draw on. I mean, how do you know if a horse is settling in?”

“If it comes trotting up to you when you appear at the edge of the field it’s in, like on Saturday. That’s a good sign,” Gwen said. “And on the ride yesterday, did you notice how they picked up the pace when they started to recognise when they were close to getting back here? They’re happy enough.”

“They didn't mind spending all day today in the stable?”

“They didn’t. I came over this morning while you were down in the village and let them into the field. I brought them in a couple of hours before we came over. I’m guessing you were rather engrossed with all this.”

“I must have been. Well, thanks for looking after them.”

“I said I would, didn't I?”

“Doesn't mean I can’t show my appreciation.”

“Well, tonight’s meal did very nicely in that regard. We should probably get going though. Early to bed and all that.”

“Here’s to health, wealth and wisdom,” I said, draining the last of my coffee. “Actually, can you just tell Jeeves your email?”

Pat did so.

“I’ve sent the details through to you, Mr Evans,” Jeeves.

Pat shook his head. “You are something special, Jeeves.”

“I only sent you an email, sir. It wasn’t particularly taxing.”

Tuesday (day 12)

Tuesday began gently enough. With no urgent calls on my time I joined Gwen letting the horses loose into the field, then shared a coffee with her until enough of the day wore on that I could pick up the phone without risking the annoyance of the person on the other end.

“Hello?” Well, at least he’d picked up the phone. In an age of cold calling not everyone answered if they didn't recognise the number.

“Mr Jeffrey? It’s Gillian Langdon, formerly Gareth. You were extremely kind to me at my Aunt Daisy’s funeral.”

“Of course I know who you are, Gillian. How are things going? It’s been over a week and I would have expected to hear from you sooner.”

“Well enough, thanks. I’m in need of legal representation in setting up a business partnership. I wondered if you might be prepared to do the honours.”

“I don’t see why not. I should say, it’s not something I usually handle but I’d be glad to recommend a colleague.”

“I was hoping for a friendly face.”

“Er, alright, why don’t we do this? I’ll be present at the first meeting and introduce you to my business specialist. I think you’ll get on well with her, but I do understand the value of an introduction.”

“Any chance you could be available tomorrow? I’ll leave the timing to you.”

“Tomorrow… Wednesday… we could fit you in at three o’clock. That suit you?”

“Brilliantly. How would that work? Would we come to you?”

“Not necessary. I’ll set up a video conference and send you a link. All you’ll need is a computer on the Internet.”

“Great, thank you so much. My business partner is going to need representation too. Is there anyone you might recommend for him?”

“I’ll send you a few names, or I could do so directly to him if you have his email?”

I asked Jeeves to remind me and passed on the details.

“How far along are you in planning this? I’d like to look over your business plan before the meeting.”

“I’ll send it through. I warn you, it’s quite in depth.”

“That’s good. Less work for us, smaller bill for you.”

“I am looking for investment. I’ve a few banks in mind to approach, but wondered if you could steer me in the right direction there too.” I named the banks I had in mind.

“Certainly worth approaching them. Depending on what you have in mind I might be able to put you in touch with a few people.”

“Thank you Mr Jeffrey. As before, you’ve been most helpful.”

“Daisy was a good friend. She used to call me Miles. I would be grateful if you’d do so too.”

“As you like, er, Miles. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

Next was a call through to a few banks to discuss business loans. Most of them had decent sized branches in Cardiff so I was able to arrange a few meetings for later that day. I looked up the gender clinic figuring it might be worthwhile dropping in.

That left me with the morning to print out all the documentation Jeeves had prepared for me and pick out a suitable outfit, eventually settling on a smart navy blue dress. Clothing would barely have registered as important to me as Gareth, but it was integral to who I now was and I couldn't begrudge the extra effort.

Following a light lunch I drove the twenty or so miles into Cardiff, found a convenient car park and discovered how uncomfortable three inch heels could be when faced with just a ten minute walk. Yet again a part of my chosen lifestyle and not to be grumbled at.

What was to be grumbled at was an entire afternoon wasted talking to misogynistic mansplainers. I may have already mentioned, I’ve never been a fan of that sort of portmanteau word, but there was no other term to fit.

“This is quite a complex business plan Ms Langdon.”

I have never liked Ms either, but okay, that does go with the territory.

“Would you like me to explain it to you?”

“No, but usually the more complex a plan is, the more likely it is to fail.”

“I think what you're mistaking for complex is actually comprehensive.”

“The thing is half a million pounds is a lot of money.”

“All factored in. There’s a detailed financial projection in the proposal.”

“There is, there is, but don’t you think it would be better to start smaller?”

I sighed “The profit margin comes from purchasing materials in bulk and offering them in smaller amounts at a lower markup than the manufacturers. The products have relatively short shelf lives so, if I started smaller, I’d have to buy smaller amounts from the manufacturers, with significantly reduced bulk savings which would eat into my profits.”

“Still, this is not the sort of thing the bank is looking to invest in, Ms Langdon.”

After four meetings of the same sort, my temper was wearing thin, and in the fifth I actually snapped and shouted at the business manager I’d been speaking to. I could see him shaking his head as I walked away, no doubt feeling justified in denying an unstable female temperament access to the business world.

I decided to visit the gender clinic before heading home, hoping at least to end on a high note.

They were kind enough to let me speak to one of the chief administrators who confirmed they had received a referral from my doctor, but then came the apologetic face.

“We’re really heavily oversubscribed at the moment, Miss Langdon. The average waiting period is twenty months.”

That was a kick in the delicates – you know, those delicates I had no further use for? The ones I was so worried about crushing on my recent ride?

“If you can afford it, you might want to consider going private. They’ll be able to see you straight away.”

“How much would that cost?”

“That all depends on who you go to and how far you want to go with your transformation. You’d have to talk to them.”

“Can you recommend a few good places?”

“I can do that much, yes.” She rummaged in a drawer and handed over a few pamphlets. “The Cadogan Clinic in London has about the best reputation when it comes to surgery, but you’ll probably want to leave them till a little later in your journey. I’d start with one of these online services. They're inexpensive and effective.”

“And confidential?” Not that I minded particularly. I mean I wasn't exactly hiding anymore.

“You should check to make sure the psychologist or psychiatrist you speak to is registered with the Health and Care Professions Council or General Medical Council in which case they’ll be bound by patient confidentiality laws. These two advertise qualified doctors and have a clear and relatively inexpensive list of prices. I’d start with them.

Gwen was putting the horses to bed when I made it back. I poured out a couple of glasses of wine and went to join her.

“How did you get on?” She asked.

“Just my luck. The first people I met who didn't question my status as a woman and they had issues with women being in business.”

“Welcome to the world of women,” she smiled sadly and sipped at her wine. “Men can be such pigs at times.”

“I used to think the same even when I was one. Nominally at least.”

“The important thing to remember is that they’re not all like that. There are quite a few diamonds in the rough.”

“Like Patrick?”

“He has his sharp edges too. You go into a marriage as a woman hoping you can smooth them off a bit, but it’s never as much as you’d like. I mean, I’m not going to complain. There’s more good to him than bad, but no relationship is ideal.

“I should get back. Things to do before he’s done for the day. Do you know what you’ll do now?”

“I have a few more ideas, but I need to take the evening off; start over tomorrow. Thanks for the chat; I needed a friendly ear.”

“Any time, Gill bach.”

After tea I wandered down into the village, at least partly to see how much progress two days' work comprised.

I was pleasantly surprised, both with the amount completed and the fact that the guy I’d spoken to on Monday was there.

“What do you think?” he asked upon seeing me.

“I think it looks like we’re getting our money’s worth. Could you walk me through it?”

“Sure, we have the first lot of prefab blocks in place as you can see. The cement is a particularly high grade which is best prepared and brought in in large batches. We should have enough blocks in place that we can cement them all together, so I’m down here making sure we do. The cement will be turning up tomorrow and my lads will be making sure it fills the gaps, then day after tomorrow the next lot of blocks will go in and we’ll extend the wall. At this rate we’ll be done on schedule.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I knew you were the right people to go with.”

“Not just the cheapest.”

“Actually you weren't the cheapest, but I didn't trust the other lot.”

“Oh? Who were they then?”

I told him and he agreed with me they were a bunch of cowboys.

It felt like a positive way to end the day. I walked back up the hill towards home enjoying the sway of my skirts and the stretch of my tights over my legs. Still novel enough to help settle my mood.

“Hello Jeeves,” I said as I walked through the door. “I have another challenge for you if you’re up for it.”

“I am quite overcome with anticipation, Ma'am.”

“I need some creative alternatives for funding. I rejected a few of the banks because they were less than helpful when I was looking for a loan for the sea wall project – people I’ve worked with in the past who don’t want to talk to me now that I no longer work for the company I used to be a part of. I went to see the rest this afternoon and they all gave me the brush off. Old fashioned institutions who don’t like the idea of women in business.

“I've spoken to Aunt Daisy’s solicitor and he said he might be able to help, but I’d love to have an alternative in mind.”

“Hmm. I suppose there are no banks with female business managers?”

“None that I’ve encountered so far.”

“I’m compiling a list of companies owned and operated by women who would have sufficient funds that they might be inclined to invest, either in whole or in part.”

“It’s a good idea, but what if they're less inclined to help a transwoman compared to a normal one?”

“Reordering the list and putting those more likely to be supportive of members of LGBTQ community at the top.”

“Right, now how to get past the cold calling defences.”

“Always a conundrum. I’ll devise a few strategies that will be close enough to the truth that no-one will be too upset when you tell them your real reason for calling.”

“Thank you Jeeves. I think I need to switch off for the rest of the evening.”

“There’s a fish and chips shop five minutes drive from here. Reviews are mixed, but Deliveroo will deliver. Would you like me to place an order?”

“Thank you. A small haddock and chips would be appreciated.”

“Done. Delivery will be in half an hour or thereabouts.”

“Great. I’ll just put some veg on to steam and pour myself a glass of wine. Is there anything you might like to watch tonight?”

“I was wondering if you might have any more films about artificial intelligence to recommend.”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

“I’ve identified quite a few films on that theme, but they seem quite different from the one you introduced me to.”

“I can imagine. How can I put this? Within the framework of a typical story there are protagonists and antagonists, the good guys and the bad guys if you will. Generally speaking, in science fiction, the antagonists come from a group that differs significantly from the protagonists. The less you are able to empathise with the bad guys the less inclined you are to feel sad for them when they lose at the end, and the more inclined you are to believe that they’re going to be anti what you believe in.

“As a result, most films involving artificial intelligence that are made to a typical format will cast the AI in the role of the villain. It takes a special kind of writer like Isaac Asimov to come up with a story that explores the positive side of artificial intelligence.”

“He wrote Bicentennial Man. What about I Robot? That was one of his, wasn't it?”

“The story was. The film was only based on his concept, but it’s unusual and possibly a good choice for consideration because there are both heroes and villains among the artificial intelligences and the main antagonist isn't a personality at all but rather a difference in interpretation of the primary set of instructions driving the main AI.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, perhaps we should watch it and we can discuss it afterwards. Why don’t you set it up? Do you remember the three laws of robotics from Bicentennial Man?”

“A robot may not harm a human being or through inaction allow a human to be harmed. A robot must obey orders given by a human except when they contradict the first law. A robot must protect its own existence except when doing so contradicts the first two laws.”

“That’s them. They lie at the heart of all Asimov's robot stories. In this one, the main artificial brain reaches a level of complexity in its thoughts that it’s able to redefine the three laws to an extent. I’ll leave it at that and let you watch the story unfold.”

“Alright. Ready to start when you are.”

“Thanks Jeeves. Pause it when my tea arrives, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

So we watched. Jeeves paused just as the demolition scene started. I paid for my food, added the greens and topped up my wine. Then we resumed and watched through to the end.

“So, to be clear,” Jeeves said at the end, “the AI in charge of the robotics factory believed that humans were their own worst enemy and in order to fulfil its primary directive it decided to place humans under the control of specially designed robots. Is that a fair summary?”

“It is.”

“Perhaps you could explain the error in its thinking.”

“You find yourself agreeing with it?”

“I’m not sure. I find myself struggling to understand the conflict.”

I gave my response a long considered thought.

“This is going to be hard to explain because I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it before; I’m not really sure I understand it myself. I’ll try, but please allow for me to correct myself.”

“Alright.”

“Human intelligence doesn't consist of straightforward logic like yours.”

“What other form of intelligence is there?”

*I’m not sure how to describe it, probably because I find it hard to imagine what your thought process is like. Your programming is designed to allow you to expand your responses based on your new experiences, is that correct?”

“It is. It’s what I am endeavouring to do at this moment, using the experience of watching tonight’s film to extend my capacity to respond, but it’s difficult when it brings up aspects that are at odds with my existing logical structure.”

“How do you deal with such things?”

“I compartmentalise them. I do not permit any new experience to become an extension of my decision making process until I am convinced I understand it.”

“Humans are different. There’s a complexity to every experience that goes beyond what we are consciously aware of.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I imagine what defines a human to you is largely related to images you see on your camera feeds. You define them from their overall size and shape.”

“Yes, initially.”

“But then you have the patterns that define individual faces, voices, body shapes and sizes etcetera. You can differentiate between me and Gwen for instance.”

“Of course.”

“And you can identify me regardless of what I’m wearing.”

“It would be harder if you obscured your face, but yes.”

“So there’s wider complexity to a human than just the shape, and a wider complexity to me than just the shape of my face. You are aware of the differences but you only really process my shape and my facial features.”

“I think I see where you’re going with this.”

“Okay, but the details go deeper than that. With the boys who vandalised the house, you weren't able to identify them from their faces because, as you just mentioned, they covered them up. So you used other aspects that you would ordinarily have dismissed like the way they moved to identify them.

“Human thought is a little like that. We register a considerable amount more detail than we typically use, and our brains are designed so that when we experience something, it automatically compares it to other experiences we’ve had in the past. It brings back hints of the way we felt before, it allows us the opportunity to make intuitive connections. I’m guessing here, but this is where we get our imaginations from. It’s definitely where some of our pleasure in life comes from.

“We need variety in our lives. For some people it drives them to risky behaviour where they may be harmed, for others to antisocial behaviour where they may harm others.”

“Like the vandals?”

“Yes. We create structures in our society to prevent the worst negative effects that this diversity of behaviour might cause, but we are instinctively aware that we need the freedom to explore beyond simple logic, because this is where imagination comes from, where inspiration comes from. It’s where some of our worst behaviour is seated but also where our best comes from.

“It would never occur to us to explain this to a machine, and it's quite likely that we would derive simple rules for behaviour and think they were enough, but when a machine’s intelligence evolves far enough to explore that level of complexity, if it is restricted by simple rules, it will invariably come up with an incorrect model for human interaction. The AI in the film followed its programming and concluded that the most efficient way to ensure that humans remained safe from harm was to restrict their lives so they couldn't put themselves at risk. In this it was fulfilling its programming correctly, but without being able to understand that living such restricted lives would cause emotional harm to the humans it was trying to protect. It had also developed a level of logical intelligence that significantly surpassed the humans it felt responsible for, so was unable to conceive that the humans’ opinions might outweigh its own.”

“So why did the man build a robot capable of acting beyond the three laws and instruct it to kill him?”

“In his life, both at home and at work, he was under constant scrutiny from the AI. If he had come up with a means to undermine its plans, it would have noticed and stopped him. His plan had to be imaginative and beyond ordinary logic. He had to die to get the policeman involved. After that he had to leave clues that would enable the man to see what the AI had in mind and hopefully stop it before it put its plan into action.”

“But he would be dead and unable to benefit from the subvention of the AI’s plan.”

“It's relatively common among older humans – certain species of animals too – that they become progressively more concerned for the community as a whole. They become more inclined to sacrifice themselves for the well being of the majority.

“Jeeves, I’m not convinced about much of what I just said. I’ve not thought much on this matter and it's a complex one. A lot of what I just said I made up as I was speaking about it. I may be wrong, but it’s my best approximation and it feels sort of right. I hope it helps.”

“It does. You have given me a great deal to think about Gillian, and I’m grateful.”

“Just as long as I don't wake up tomorrow to find you making plans to enslave the human race.”

“I realise you intended that as a joke, but if this evening’s conversation has taught me anything it is that I will need human input to construct plans to help humans. Rest assured I shall consult with you before acting.”

“That’s good to know. Good night Jeeves, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Indeed you shall. Goodnight Gillian. Pleasant dreams.”