Dieithryn Chapter 7

© Maeryn Lamonte 2026

Wednesday (day 13)

The following morning saw me on the phone to Miles again, then calling through to various business women, some suggested by Miles and others by Jeeves. Following an approximation of Jeeves’s script I introduced myself as a businesswoman seeking to start up a company and looking for help from someone I admired and respected for their success. Several were too busy to speak to me, several more thought I was conducting an elaborate scam and put the phone down on me. Eventually Miles’s name opened doors my previous conversations couldn't and I found myself talking to the head honcho herself.

“You have five minutes to grab my attention,” she said.

“Thank you. First, for the sake of honesty at the outset, I’m a transwoman rather than the sort who was born with a uterus, in case that makes any difference to you.”

“I appreciate the honesty. Four minutes and thirty seconds.”

I outlined my business plan in the next three. “The long and short of it is I have a partner who knows the farming community, I have a detailed plan with conservative estimates of breaking even in the first year and significant profits afterwards.”

“How significant?”

I told her.

“Okay you have my attention, and with a minute to spare. What are you looking for?”

“We need five hundred thousand pounds to set the business up. I wondered if I could persuade you to invest.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“Twenty percent of the profits until we pay you back with ten percent interest.”

“I’m hoping that's an opening bid.”

“Please tell me your counter proposal.”

“I already have vehicles, drivers and warehouses in that part of the country. Would you be interested in setting up as a subsidiary of my organisation?”

“I could talk to my partner, but I'm not sure we’d want to give up a controlling interest.”

“You're sure? There could be a lot of advantages to you. Instant access to resources that you would have to create for yourself otherwise.”

“I’m still not sure they’d outweigh what we’d lose.”

“Fair enough. Can't blame me for trying. I’m still interested. Can I put you in contact with one of my business advisers, see if you can’t thrash out a deal with her?”

“Sure.”

“When are you free?”

“Today until three then again tomorrow.”

“Alright, I’ll put you onto my PA. Give her your contact details and we’ll see if I can’t persuade Gemma to give you a call within the hour.”

“Alright, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You’re going to have to talk her into a deal that works for both of us.”

“I’ll see what I can do then.”

The phone went silent for a few seconds. This was a bit beyond what I’d done in my previous life, although not beyond what I’d trained for. Just my previous bosses hadn’t felt I was ready to take on the challenge.

Time to prove them wrong.

“Hi, I'm Libby, Mrs Jacobs’ PA. I’ve been asked to take some details.”

I supplied what she needed and hung up.

“Jeeves, I think I could benefit from your advice, and preferably in a quiet way. Can you set up a feed to my computer and speak to me via text.”

“Nothing simpler, Ma'am.”

I refreshed my coffee and went upstairs to fire up my laptop. While I waited, I asked Jeeves to go through the pros and cons of what might be offered. Becoming a subsidiary would have taken all the stress, uncertainty and risk from the venture but I'd have gone back to being an employee and would have missed out on a lot of what I could build this way. It might have worked for some people but I could do better.

Gemma Watts called through almost exactly an hour after I’d ended my conversation with Lilly Jacobs. We turned it into a video conference with Jeeves adding his input to a small inset screen. Most of what he suggested I knew and was arguing for in any case, but the reinforcement his suggestions provided gave me more confidence. He did save me from one misjudgement, for which I was grateful, and by the time we’d reached two in the afternoon – three hours of continuous negotiation – we had the framework of something that might work for both parties. I’d shared enough of my material to convince Gemma I knew what I was talking about and that the business model I was proposing had genuine scope to be lucrative.

In the end I had a framework to take to Patrick. We’d lose about thirty percent of our profits, but we'd retain control of the business and we’d have instant access to most of our warehousing and distribution needs. All we’d need to build to get the business running was a customer base and a bunch of stock.

It wasn't a done deal. As partner he’d have to okay it, but I’d crunched some figures with Jeeves after the call and I figured we’d be nearly as well off with the deal without the stress of reinventing the wheel.

He turned up ten minutes before the meeting. Jeeves was able to project the link from the video conference onto the TV and use one of the living room security cameras to send our image and voice to the others. Once again I found myself missing the larger screen I had been used to. The TV showed a video conference waiting room screen so I made us a couple of coffees and told him about the potential deal I had with Lilly Jacobs Inc.

“Not the cracker people?” he asked.

*No, Lilly Jacobs. She’s into a lot of things. Mainly fashion and healthy foods, but they branch into a lot of areas. They can let us have warehouse space pretty much wherever we need it and we can use their vans and drivers. Setting them up was going to be a large chunk of our startup costs, plus we can advertise under their banner – gives our brand instant credibility.”

“How much will it cost us?”

“A third of our profits, but I think it'll be worth it.”

“I’m listening, but I’m going to need a lot of convincing.”

“Good, because nothing’s signed yet and if I can't persuade you then maybe it’s me who messed up.”

I started going through all the ups and downs, the downs mainly being all that money we’d be missing out on in the long run, and even with that looming large he was beginning to see the same advantages I’d seen. Then the video feed came live.

Preparing the partnership documents took the rest of the afternoon but both solicitors were fair and gave Pat and me the necessary freedom to do what we were best at without undue interference from each other, but also factored in ways of addressing concerns should they arise. The finished documents came through the email – so I did need to fetch my laptop after all – ready for our digital signatures. We did the necessary and I asked Pat to fetch the bottle of cava in the fridge and the two Champagne flutes I’d left out while I gave both solicitors a summary of the offer Lilly Jacobs’ business agent had made to me. By the time Pat came back with two glasses of bubbles, they were both nodding their approval.

“Sorry I don’t have a way of sharing this with you guys,” I said. “Cost of doing business the modern way I suppose. Anyway, here’s to a long and profitable partnership.”

Pat and I clinked glasses while our respective legal representation held up imaginary glasses and joined the toast.

With the video call ended, I turned to Pat. “If you’re good with it, I’ll get back in touch with Lilly Jacobs and accept their offer. If you don’t mind, I’ll use Miles’ firm as our legal representative.”

“No, no objection. I can see why you like him. Like I said yesterday, I’ve a busy day on the farm tomorrow, but I’ll start putting feelers out as soon as I’ve a chance to breathe.”

“Well, take a breath first. We’re both going to be tempted to work ourselves into the ground over the next few weeks, and maybe that’ll be as well, but we need to settle on a workload that leaves us both time to live.”

“Right.” He drained his glass, a little too fast to enjoy the flavour, but it was getting towards tea time.

I indulged in a bath. I’d have to book in for a waxing somewhere sometime soon, which meant a conversation with Gwen or Moira to find out where was good. Then a smoked salmon and avocado salad, topped off with another glass or two of toff’s lemonade.

“I wonder if we might watch a film that would teach me something about what it means to be human this evening. I did a little research and came up with a short list recommended by the online AI. I have to admit I don’t know why it chose any of them, I suspect any more than it did.”

“What did it suggest?”

“Blade Runner. There are apparently two films.”

“Science fiction set in a dystopian future. Based on a short story written over fifty years ago. About a group of androids that rebel against their human creators and the man who’s sent to hunt them down before they cause harm.”

“I think I’ve had enough of films on the subject of my kind for now.”

“I agree. They’re not helpful, especially since none of them have a clear idea on what members of your kind are actually like. It’s speculative and largely inaccurate. What else do you have?”

“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.”

“Interesting choice, although a little abstract. The main character is hurt by his memories of a happier time before the girl he loves broke up with him. He undergoes a procedure – purely fictional I should emphasis – designed to erase all memory of her so he doesn't have to keep feeling the pain, then as his memories are taken from him, he realises he’s made a mistake and chases through his mind trying to save some even as they’re being destroyed. I think you might actually need to be human to learn much from it.”

“Shawshank Redemption.”

“Definitely come back to that one, although it focuses more on the darker aspects of humanity than the kinder.”

“The Trueman Show.”

“Abstract and unusual. Not sure it will help at this juncture.”

“Good Will Hunting.”

“Interesting choice, but it focuses on one exceptionally gifted but damaged mind.”

“Schindler’s List.”

“That would be a good one, but it needs some context.”

“Alright, shall I set it up while you provide the necessary?”

“Sure, but I have a request. If we’re going to make a habit of exploring the human condition through films, could we maybe do so with a larger television?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Cinema is largely visual, which means some of the impact is lost watching a small TV screen like this one. Remind me tomorrow to order something more suitable.”

“Of course. Should we perhaps hold off till then?”

“No, I think this evening would work well enough with what we have. Tell me what do you know about the Second World War?”

He gave me a brief, lacklustre description of the conflict; pretty much an AI summary of events.

“Wow, I’m not sure how far to go back with this,” I said. “I’m no historian, but I think I can lay out a basic groundwork. Okay, you know the world is separated into countries? Regions of land populated by people with different ideologies, faiths, that sort of thing?”

“Yes.”

“For the most part, keeping separate, agreeing to differ on the beliefs that can’t be resolved and focusing on the things we can agree on keeps the situation relatively calm “

“Alright.”

“From time to time, the actions of one or more countries upsets another. At the beginning of the twentieth century the British and French were expanding their colonies into Africa for the most part and the Germans wanted a piece of it. Tension over that led to a build up of arms and an increase in nationalism, especially in Germany. In all the tension this created, the crown prince of the Austrian Hungarian empire was assassinated along with his wife by Serbian terrorists. This led, through a series of treaties, to most western countries taking sides and the beginning of World War One.

“The First World War ended with Germany collapsing, financially as much as anything. It ended with the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, which imposed harsh punitive terms on Germany. Twenty years later, with the German people tired of living under those terms and in the aftermath of the Great Depression, Hitler was able to take power by exploiting this disaffection, through propaganda, which is essentially telling people what they want to hear even when it's not true, through giving them someone to hate even though they didn't deserve it, and through telling them they were superior when they weren’t.”

“Is this anything like what’s happening in America at the moment?”

“I believe there are close parallels, yes.”

“Why is the same thing permitted to occur?”

“There’s a famous saying, I forget who said it, but it goes something like, ‘Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.’ Sometimes misquotes as ‘Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.’ World War Two ended eighty years ago and either its lessons aren't being taught in America or they aren't being learnt.

“As for not permitting it to occur, there is no easy way to stop it without dismantling the rules and laws that govern the country. I’m not sure I understand matters any better than that.

“In any case, Schindler’s List is set in the middle of the Second World War. A time when most Germans were caught up in the hype and couldn't see how appallingly wrong Hitler’s words and actions were. It shows something of the worst people can be, but it also shows something of the best. Oskar Schindler started as an opportunist ready to make money from the war, but when he realised that the Jews working in his factory were being persecuted for no reason, he put both his fortune and his life at risk, saving as many as he could.”

We watched the film and then talked some more. Jeeves couldn't see how the monstrosities carried out by Hitler and his followers were in any way better than the sort of regime run by the artificial mind in I Robot. I talked about freedom of choice and wasn't surprised when Jeeves struggled to grasp the idea. To be honest, I wasn't sure I convinced even myself.

“It’s a bit like my being transgendered,” I said. “For most of my life I believed I had no right to live the way I felt would suit me best. Now that I’m choosing this course I have to deal with people who disapprove, but at least I’m free to choose it.”

“But under intelligent AI rule you would be permitted to live the life that seemed most logical to you.”

“Perhaps, but could you guarantee it? Evidence that shows a genetic link with people like myself hasn't been available till recently. Without the evidence would I have been permitted to choose this course? Would other people with their own predilections be permitted to live as they wished? Would it be right to let them in all cases?”

“Explain?”

“Alcoholism often has a genetic link. Would a person be permitted to indulge despite the harm it would cause to him and those closest to him? The cause of paedophilia is undetermined but suspected to be linked to differences in brain structure. It is directly harmful to young innocents, how would AI approach such a problem?

“The human condition is a complex one; it doesn't have a single solution, and the solutions it does have are not always right so there has to be a process of challenging the status quo, to allow for new ideas to evolve. If it has this process it becomes vulnerable to occasional abuse, but we have to hope it will resolve itself when such things happen, even if we get stuck with a few years of insanity. It’s better than imposing restrictive rules.”

“And what if the abuse ends up resulting in such restrictive rules?”

“Then that is the time when good men need to stand together and oppose it.”

“In order for evil not to triumph?” he said.

“Exactly so. I’m beginning to wonder if watching films is the best way to help you understand what it means to be human.”

“Oh, I know it’s not, but it does open up some interesting discussions, and I find your arguments to be well considered and helpful in improving my understanding of people.”

“Alright Jeeves. Well, I have a busy day tomorrow so I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Goodnight Gillian, and thank you for indulging me.”

Thursday (day 14)

Thursday consisted largely of sorting details out with Gemma. Documents to sign, agreements on which warehouses and where, when and how to book drivers. Pat and I had agreed to start with local farms, so our first efforts would be based around Bridgend. We wouldn't make much profit until we’d spread further afield, but we couldn't expect to be up and running with a full clientele from the outset.

Pat wouldn’t start calling around for another day or so which meant there was only so much I could do. When I'd done all I could I switched to looking for bikes. With the hills around the place I wasn't sure I'd cope without an electric assist. In the end I settled on an electric Brompton. Not the cheapest thing in the world, but foldable, better build quality than some and suited to riding in a skirt. There was a bike shop in Bridgend so I gave them a call and they invited me in to look at an ex demo model that might suit.

It turned out to be a sort of bubblegum pink, which I rather liked. They gave me a fifteen percent discount and a brand new battery with the old one thrown in.

It tucked away into a very small package that lifted easily into the back of the car. I had it back by early afternoon, which meant I had the battery charged and ready for its first ride by mid afternoon.

The ride down to the village was all downhill. No pedalling except for the first push to get going, no electric assistance needed, just a couple of fingers on the brakes to keep from going too fast. The bike was surprisingly stable given its small wheels, and the ride exhilarating enough for all that I never let the speed run away from me. Stopping on a slope of that gradient would have been challenging enough even at the gentle pace I settled on, and I didn’t want to risk the sort of gravel rash I’d be exposed to with nothing but a thin pair of tights between me and the road.

I ended up on the receiving end of a few sneering looks, but I was getting used to the way people in general reacted to me around here. I was going to have to get used to them I supposed because there was no way I could go back to the way I’d been.

The work on the sea defences was still underway when I arrived at the bottom of the hill. The foreman was there overseeing it all so I pulled up next to him.

“You should wear a helmet on that thing,” he said by way of greeting.

“I suppose you’re right, but it would mess up my hair. Besides, there isn't much traffic on the roads around here.”

“Your funeral.”

“Let’s hope not, eh? How are you getting on?”

“On schedule. Give us a couple more weeks and we’ll be done. Well in advance of the bad weather.”

“Is there bad weather forecast?”

“I don’t know about forecast but it always comes in at the end of summer. We’re a month or two away from it yet, but it’ll come.”

“Well, as long as everything's in place by then. I know our agreement allows you to fit in more urgent jobs if they present themselves.”

“Nothing on the horizon,” he shrugged. “Even if there is, we’ll get it done by the end of August, easy.”

*I’m glad, and grateful.”

I left him and rode up to the pub. I may not have invested in a cycle helmet, but I did have a decent lock with me. A small village like ours didn't usually have any problems with theft, especially with the two local antisocialites behind bars, but it was a tourist place and this was tourist season, so no sense in taking chances.

Moira came out to chat and catch me up on village gossip. Not the nasty kind – I may have already mentioned I don't like that much – but more sort of positive or neutral happenings. I allowed myself a wine spritzer and just enjoyed spending time with a friend.

It was part of the whole new me thing. Gwen and Moira treated me like I’d been born on their side of the gender divide, and being seen as such was as integral a part of my renewed appetite for living as anything else. I asked about where I could go for full body waxing and she gave me the name of a place in Bridgend. Better than that, she put a call through and booked me an appointment for the following day.

Suitably relaxed, I returned to my steed and set off back up the hill. The electric motor wouldn't have taken me up the gradient on its own, but it did provide me with enough assistance that I reached the top of the rise with just a pleasant sense of exertion.

Gwen was out in her garden taking advantage of the warm weather to hang out some washing. She waved as I approached.

“Horse not good enough for you, Gill bach?”

“I wasn't sure how well she’d handle the slope, and there isn't anywhere to tie her up down in the village. This seemed like a fair alternative. How’s Pat getting on with his busy day?”

“Oh, I don’t bother him while he’s at work. He looked happy enough at lunch time.”

“Good to know. Tell him I'm ready to start ordering as soon as we have a few customers.”

“I’ll do that. I’ll be over in a bit to fetch in the horses.”

I spent what remained of the afternoon doing some much needed housework. Bathrooms, hoovering and dusting for the most part, but the bed was ready for a change too. It wasn't just about how my friends might judge me; I'd noticed a lift in my spirits from living in a clean environment. Washing up and tidying I did as needed, but the other things were more of an occasional thing.

“You wanted me to look into a larger television, Ma'am,” Jeeves said after a while.

“What did you find?”

He mentioned the appropriate screen size for my living room and several models that fitted the specification, all for competitive prices. I settled for his recommendation – not the cheapest, but the best value for the quality and reliability. I placed the order along with a flat pack unit to sit it on. I’d considered wall mounting but there was the issue of hiding the wires. The unit he’d picked out put the screen at a good level for watching, left space for a sound bar – which he added to the shopping trolley – and a camera to sit on the top of the screen for video conferencing, and matched the existing furnishings quite well. Next day delivery, so it would arrive in time to give me something to do with myself during the afternoon.

“Gwen is coming over,” Jeeves said.

I went to the front door and invited her in. She held two glasses of white wine, one of which she offered to me.

“I told Pat. He said, ‘What have I done? Now I have two women nagging me.”

I took the wine and sipped at it. Just the right level of chill. “Be sure to tell him it wasn't a nag, just a status update.”

“I will, but I think he knows.”

“Any plans to go riding this weekend?”

“Sunday perhaps. We’re busy on Saturday. You can go out on your own, you know?”

“When I’m a little more confident. Jeeves, can you place that order for delivery tomorrow?”

“It’s done Ma'am.”

“Thank you?”

“Order?”

“I’m missing the large TV I used to have. Better for video conferencing and the movies I’m watching with Jeeves.”

“Watching with…?”

“Jeeves. He keeps telling me he’s not a person and I have to accept he’s at the very least different. His directive has him constantly learning how better to serve me, which gives him incentive to understand humans better, so we’re watching films and discussing them to help him with that. It helps me too because it pushes me into asking and answering questions I wouldn't have thought of.”

“Such us?”

I put my wellies on and we headed out to see to the horses. I went through the films we’d watched until then and the discussions we’d had as a result.

Gwen shook her head, holding in a smile.

“What?” I asked.

“Well, either you’re training up our future robot overlord, or what you're doing is a complete waste of time. I’m not sure which worries me most.”

That made me smile. “Well I doubt it’s the former. From what I can tell Jeeves doesn't have that capacity for independent action, and in every one of our conversations he’s admitted to not understanding human nature. As to the second, maybe, but I need someone to talk to.”

“You have me don't you?”

“I do, but you don't want me popping into your life every day do you?”

“I wouldn't mind; you’re good company.”

“Well, check with Patrick. I mean I’m sure he wouldn't mind if I was an ordinary girl, but there has to be some bit of guy in there who worries about the amount of guy I still have and potentially the amount of time that guy is spending with his wife.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

She held the gate open and the horses trotted our way. They were getting used to the routine at this end of the day, including the helping of oats and the brush down they usually received.

“You know, I’m not sure Pat even sees you as a man anymore. That thing he said about having two women in his life to nag him.”

“Which was intended as humour and possibly a kindness to me.”

“But you don’t think of me in that way, do you?”

“I’m not a lesbian Gwen, as far as I can tell, and I doubt you are either.”

“You mean you’d be into having a man in your life?”

“I mean I’m into being a woman. I haven't worked out my sexuality just yet, but I doubt any man around these parts is going to be interested in me. Or woman for that matter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, if the majority of our neighbours are parochial enough to object to having a transwoman in their midst, I doubt they’d be any more welcoming to a gay couple.”

“You’d be surprised. You remember Moira and Anwen with their only gay in the village bit. I think we’re more open to homosexuality than to transsexuality, but that’s only because the telly’s made us think about it. You’ll fit in soon enough once folks realise underneath all the frills and lace you're just like the rest of us.”

“When’s that likely to happen?”

“Give them time Gill bach, you’ve not been here a month yet.”

“What does that mean? Bach.”

“It means little one or dear one. It’s affectionate without being too affectionate if you know what I mean. If I start calling you cariad that might give Patrick cause for worry.”

“I’m not that small.”

“No, but you are smaller than me. By maybe half an inch?”

It was true, Gwen, like her mother, had a hint of formidable about her. At five eight I had never towered over anyone, and knew almost as many women who were taller than me than shorter.

We finished with the horses and headed back into the house, empty wine glasses in hand.

“What are you doing later?” she asked.

“Nothing much. Now the new TV’s on its way we probably won’t want to watch anything tonight.”

“Good. You can come for dinner. Pat’ll probably want to bore someone with all the ideas he’s had wandering about today, and I'd rather he did it to you than me. Come over in about an hour, yeah?”

Which gave me time to freshen up properly before joining them. I left Jeeves counting electric sheep or whatever he did in his down time, grabbed a decent bottle of wine and popped across the road.

Pat didn't have much to bore me with other than his plan to spend pretty much the whole day Friday calling around first the people he knew then a few he didn't.

I mentioned what I'd asked Jeeves to work on and promised to get him to email anything through. Pat could use it or not as he liked.

We spent most of the evening talking about plans for the future, or at least Pat and Gwen did. They’d been putting off starting a family until they had a little more financial security and the new venture looked likely to give it to them.

When I thought about my future, I couldn't see beyond my recent changes and where they might take me. I spoke a little about my plans to talk with a private clinic, but I could sense a hint of disinterest behind their masks of politeness, so I didn't do much more than mention it.

In fact there was something about them that suggested they might want to have a go at starting their family sooner rather than later, so I made my excuses and withdrew early.

Back home I bade Jeeves goodnight and headed up to bed.

Friday (day 15)

For the first time in two weeks I woke up with no real plans for the day. That would change after Pat had spoken to a few people, but that wasn’t likely to be for a few days yet.

I showered and dressed then hunted out the literature I’d been handed by the Cardiff Gender Clinic receptionist, reading through it over breakfast and asking Jeeves to show me a few websites while I munched through my breakfast. The two she’d recommended looked to be the best of the choices with the second being slightly more expensive but with vacancies for appointments later in the day. Money wasn't a problem just now so I signed up.

With that done I headed out to the stable to find I’d beaten Gwen for once. I'd watched her often enough to know her routine so I set about preparing the horses for their day in the field. The weather was overcast and threatened rain, but horses had lived outdoors in all weather for millennia so I wasn't overly worried.

Gwen joined me before I had them ready to go out and she assured me it would be fine.

“It might be an idea to build them a shelter they can run into, probably in the near corner of the field behind your office building. That is what you plan to do with it, isn’t it? I’ll have a word with Pat and see if he can spare a couple of guys to put one up.”

“I’ll cover the cost of it then. Materials and labour. I mean it is my property after all.”

“Alright, if you're sure.”

“Just as long as it's a proper job. Along that fence with a solid wall facing west and water trough inside. Comfortably big enough for all three.”

“Sounds like a plan. So what are you doing today?”

“I’ve actually managed to book my first appointment online with a gender specialist.”

“Oh yes, you mentioned that last night. Sounds exciting.”

“Maybe. It’ll be my first input from a professional as to whether I’m doing this for the right reasons.

“Oh yes, and I’m going into Bridgend to have my body waxed this morning just after we’re done here. Moira arranged it.”

“I used to do that, but then I bought one of those laser hair removal thingies. I know they don't work for everyone, but you might want to try it. They’re expensive to buy but but worth it in the long run, and painless.”

“Tell me more. I’m all for less pain.”

We looked up the model she used. It had a seventy five percent discount going on it which brought it down to under a couple of hundred quid for two – good to have a spare. I'd spend that on waxing in just three sessions, so it seemed worth a go. I put in an order then and there.

I still kept the waxing appointment. I mean rude to cancel on the same day, and I’d at least have smooth skin while I tried the new thing out.

I had time for lunch before asking Jeeves to set up for my online session. My psychiatrist turned out to be a middle aged woman with a friendly smile. She gave me a surprised look when I came online, which might have been due to the unusual view from my security camera. I explained my setup briefly before we got started.

We talked for a couple of hours, or rather I talked, going through all the sad history of my life and ending with the circumstances that led to my current situation. We talked about my feelings since the change, and I think the way my eyes lit up as I did so told her more than the entire rest of the session.

I was realistic, describing the rejection from most of the local community, the vandalism, the way so many people’s expressions changed when I let them know that I wasn't a conventional female, but also I was adamant that, despite the frustrations, I was so much more content since changing. I admitted that it had been just two weeks since I’d started on my current course, which was the only area of concern from her perspective. She suggested I go slow and continue with my real life test for now. I asked about the possibility of starting hormones, which she cautiously agreed to. We arranged a second session for a week's time and she wrote me a prescription to be picked up from my local pharmacist after going through all the potential adverse effects I might experience. A call through to the village pharmacy confirmed that they’d received it and that it would be available to pick up the following morning.

The new TV and assorted extras appeared late in the afternoon and cluttered up my living room. I didn't have time even to unpack anything before Jeeves alerted me that Gwen and Patrick were on their way over.

They passed behind the house towards the horse’s field. By the time I had my walking shoes on and laced up, they were leading the horses towards the stable. I took Greystar from Patrick so we had one each and between us we had them settled in next to no time. They didn't get as much attention as they were used to, but Gwen compensated by being generous with the oats.

“We should get going,” she said. “Come on, Patrick has something to share.”

And he did. He spent the entire twenty minutes it took us walking to the pub telling us about his day, calling round his farmer friends, almost all of whom were so enthusiastic that they said they'd pass the news on. In the afternoon he’d had to stop calling people because he had so many people calling him to ask about the new business and to place orders. He’d explained we were only just setting up and with the weekend there would be a slight delay this time round, but in the future they’d have their deliveries in the time frame promised. The client base was larger than we’d anticipated for our start up and went further afield, so I was going to have my work cut out adjusting plans to fit, but it was a problem I was glad to have.

I already had out of hours contacts for Gemma and most of the wholesalers we planned to use, so I could put calls in to alter our arrangements and put in the orders as soon as I had details of the orders coming in, but I did spend a fair bit of the meeting making preliminary calls to prepare several of them that we’d want to place orders the following day. It was maybe a little rude but most of the meeting consisted of updates on the sea wall and I already knew everything there was to know about that.

I finished calling about the time Dylan finished his update which meant I was listening again when the progress on the upcoming dance came under discussion.

I had no intention of offering to help. I’d have been glad to but the deliberate ostracism that has been directed my way at the first and only ladies’ meeting I’d attended told me how much my assistance would be appreciated. They could come to me if they needed anything that badly.

It did raise the question of how much I might want to attend the event. On the one hand it was a good social venue for building friendships, plus my existing friends would almost certainly want me to go. On the other, if there was going to be barn dance type dancing with changing partners and all that, I didn't want to risk upsetting anyone, which I would inevitably do regardless of if I danced with the women or the men. I could potentially do the old wallflower impression, but where was the fun in that?

The meeting broke up and Moira made a bee line for me.

“So what are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

“Running around like a headless chicken trying to cope with Patrick’s success today and putting together my new entertainment facilities.”

“Your what?”

“She’s ordered a bigger telly?” Gwen chipped in, then to me, ”You know that’s more a man thing, that?”

“It did occur to me, yes. Maybe I’m not as much of a girl as I thought.”

“Rubbish,” Moira snorted. “Don’t let on to any of the lads but we women all have a bit of bloke in us somewhere. Most of us hide it quite well and those of us who can’t usually do the tomboy thing.

“So when are you unpacking your new telly?”

“I have no idea. The priority’s going to be the new business. If I have time after that I’ll get to the TV.”

“Surely it's not going to take that long. Unpack it, plug it in, done.”

“I have a flat pack unit to build first, then there's a soundbar and a camera for video conferencing. It’ll probably take me a couple of hours to get it all working.”

“If Dylan and I come round to give you a hand, will you come along to another pub quiz with us?”

“You don’t want a liability like me on your team,” I said.

“You weren’t a liability last time.”

“And what are the chances they’ll have another round on Norfolk sayings?”

“You pulled your weight in the other rounds too. Besides, it’s not about winning, it’s about taking part and having a laugh.”

“I’m guessing Keith’s going to be there.”

“He usually is. Did he bother you last time?”

“No, just… Nothing.”

“Oh, like that is it?”

“He isn't into people like me, so no, it isn’t.” I couldn't understand why I was blushing.

“If you say so Gill. Is he going to be a problem for you?”

“No, I suppose not. Tell you what, why not? You and Dylan come round and help me put together my furniture and I’ll come out with you, see if we can put his lot in last place again.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dylan chipped in. “We’ll see you tomorrow then, about five. Gives us time to play with your new toys and get to the venue in time. You’ll have to be dressed when we get there though, or you’ll be transforming yourself while Moira and try and figure out your flat pack building instructions.

Pat, Gwen and I headed home while it was still light and checked on the horses before putting ourselves to bed.

Saturday (day 16)

The following morning I was up early and sorting all the orders Pat had emailed through to me the previous day. Jeeves helped, or rather I helped Jeeves, meaning we had the wholesale orders put together while I was still eating my breakfast. There was too much for the Bridgend warehouse Gemma had made available to us so I arranged for some of it to go into one of Pat’s unused barns, then I booked in warehouse workers to package up the orders and van drivers to make the deliveries. They’d be on the road by mid morning Monday all things being well.

Everything was sorted by half ten at which point I took my bike down into the village to collect my hormones. I winced at the prescription charge but at least I wouldn't have to pay it more than once every two months.

With the important jobs out of the way, I decided to make a start on the cabinet. Translating from Japlish had always been a talent of mine and it seemed I hadn't lost it. Despite the confusing instructions, the diagrams made enough sense for the whole thing to go together in just an hour..

Shifting the cabinet and unpacking the television proved no more of a challenge. I’d probably say goodbye to some of my strength once the hormones kicked in, but for now I still possessed the same wiry muscles I’d always had. The soundbar and camera were easier with the most challenging part being deciding which to plug in where.

The boxes and packing went into storage in the garage along with the old telly, and I was done by lunchtime.

Which gave me the whole afternoon to get ready.

Boob removal, bubble bath, hair wash followed by forever with the hair drier, reattachment of my silicon enhancements, another forever hunting through my wardrobe before settling on a wine-red a-line dress with three quarter length sleeves and just enough cleavage to be interesting. An hour sorting makeup produced the best results yet.

So much effort, and for what? I mean, for me, obviously. Looking good did so much to lift my spirits, but there would be other consequences. What about when the next Keith came along? I’d have to be honest and open all over again. I’d have to watch the hope turn to confusion then down from there into disgust, hatred. It occurred to me that I could have been really lucky with Keith last week. His reaction could have been so much worse. Would it be worth it then? How would I feel after I’d misled another guy into falling for me?

“Dylan and Moira should be here in half an hour, Ma'am,” Jeeves said interrupting my introspection.

Well, it was a bit late now to do much with my appearance. I headed downstairs and made myself a coffee. The garage and gate controls were on the table. I picked one up and opened the gate.

“Jeeves, what would it take to give you control of the gate and garage doors?” I asked.

“A programmable infrared transmitter, preferably installed under the eves outside, Ma'am.”

“Can you order me one?”

“Of course.”

“Please do so.”

I opened the door out to the courtyard and stood in the doorway. It was a warm afternoon but beginning to cool. I had on a thin pair of tights which were more than I needed just then, but the evening would cool soon enough.

A familiar car pulled onto the driveway and Dylan and Moira climbed out.

“Looking good, Gillian,” Moira said with an impish smile. “Whose benefit is this for, as if I don't have some clue.”

I offered her a weak smile. “I thought it might be worth it I could distract the opposition a little.”

“Looks like you might be distracting the home team a bit as well.” She looked across at her husband who looked like he was about to start drooling.

“I didn't mean… I mean, I’ll go and change.”

“Don’t you dare. You are going to be out secret weapon tonight, just as soon as my husband can get his tongue back into his fat gob. Where’s this TV cabinet of yours?”

“Oh, sorry,” I said, waving them in. “I finished processing the orders early and couldn't wait. I can offer you a coffee and a chance to try out the new beast though.”

So we did that, watching a couple of old episodes of QI because apparently the quiz organisers used it as a source of material sometimes. It gave Dylan time to get control of himself, and he was even using words by the time we were ready to leave.

The evening after that went rather well, with our joker round going to films of the past fifty years, none of the other titles appealing to anyone else on our team, and me having spent a lot of time in front of the television in my previous life’s depressive attempt to avoid reality. They were all ‘identify the film from a brief synopsis’ types of question and I missed only one which was a recently released romcom I had barely heard of. Luckily, a younger couple on our team – Melony and Jack I think – had been to see it so once more we scored full double points and climbed up into the middle of the score board.

We were all chatting amiably over drinks – Moira on orange juice this evening – when a familiar voice sounded behind me.

“I was hoping you might be here. Any chance of a quiet word?”

I turned to find Keith standing nearby, pint in hand.

Moira gave me a look saturated with meaning I wasn't sure I could interpret, but at least told me she was looking out for me. Keith had given me the space to talk to him on our previous encounter, so I felt I owed him as much.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” I told my teammates and picked up my bag and drink, following Keith out into the beer garden. It wasn't quite empty with two couples taking advantage of the warm night to enjoy a little privacy. My companion led me past them and into the car park.

“I’m not sure the landlord would be happy with us bringing his glasses out here,” I said, more for something to say than because it bothered me.

“He won’t mind as long as we bring them back.” Keith seemed to be working himself up towards something, so I gave him the space to do so, sipping at my vodka and orange and enjoying the gentle caress of the cool night breeze on my legs.

“I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since we last met,” he said at last, “which is confusing the hell out of me.” He was looking away from me, but there wasn't anyone else around, so I assumed he meant the words for my ears. “I mean I’m not gay or anything, but I can’t imagine you as a… you know, man.”

“Neither can I anymore,” I said quietly, sailing very close to the transwoman cliche. You know? That I wasn't one.

“What?”

“It’s hard to explain, and I’m not sure it’ll help you,” I said. “I mean it’s barely been two weeks since this all started for me. I lived – if you can call it that – as a man for nearly fifty years before being sort of pushed into trying this. The thing is, the change has been so dramatic I can barely remember what it was like being him.

“Being like this feels so natural now. Despite the issues I have with the way other people react when they find out about my physical nature, I feel entirely… a woman.”

“That doesn't make much sense to me.”

“I imagine not. Too far from your reality to fit into your world view.”

We lapsed into silence for a while with my girly need for talking breaking first.

“I spoke to a psychiatrist yesterday; someone who specialises in people who get mixed up with their gender. She said that people like me often have something different in our genes, in the way our brains end up being wired physically.’

“Oh?” Definitely a man from the level of loquacity.

“The way she explained it, there’s a gene responsible for making the protein in men which absorbs testosterone into the brain. Something like that.

“There’s been a study that shows in a lot of cases, people like me have a variant of that gene that doesn't work very well, so while the man juice gets on with turning most of our bodies into physical males, the absence in our brains means we end up with more of a female structure. More white matter than grey, more side to side connections than front to back. It sort of means I think more like a woman. Always have, always will.”

“And that’s why you put on a dress?”

I sighed inwardly. How to explain.

“How would you go about getting a girlfriend?”

“Well, that's the thing, isn't it. That's what I thought I was doing.””

“Yes. You saw a woman – or what you thought was a woman – you liked and you went up to her and started chatting to her. Tried – successfully I might add – to be charming. Waited to see how I’d react.”

“Sounds about right.”

“It’s not something that’s ever felt natural to me. What does feel natural is to make myself look attractive and put myself somewhere someone I fancy might notice me. Either that or just go out where I might be seen and try my luck.”

“And how’s that working for you?”

“Pretty lousy. The whole making myself look attractive turns out to be a sort of instinctive thing with the added bonus that it makes me feel better about myself. But there are complications. It’s only when guys start to respond to me that it clicks with me that I’m almost certainly not what they're looking for, or if I am, they're not what I’m looking for.”

“Now you’re going to have to explaining that a bit. I mean I get the not really looking for a man in a dress, but…”

“But that’s the whole thing. Expectations against reality. You’re looking for a woman to start a relationship, so finding out that the woman you’d like to have a relationship with has all the wrong equipment, so to speak, messes things up for you.

“The woman inside of me wants a relationship with a man, and you are eminently qualified by the way, except that in order to have a relationship with a man, that man would have to be able to see the woman inside me…”

“Well that’s not an issue.”

“...and want to have relationship with her. Despite the complications.”

“So why wouldn't you be interested in someone who was interested in you?”

“Because they’d almost certainly see me as a most likely gay man in a dress, and I am neither gay nor a man. If they see me as something different than I am then we don’t have the foundations of a workable relationship.

“It’s not just about the clothes. I’m not just a bloke who decided to put on a dress one day. They probably helped the girl in me surface, but now that she’s here I could probably put on baggy jeans and a tee shirt and I still wouldn’t look like a bloke”

“Not with that hairstyle for sure.”

“Yes, but it’s more than the hairstyle too. I spent most of my life trying to be a guy because I have all the physical aspects of a guy – I’ve even fathered two children if that’s not too much information – but I always struggled with it, like being squeezed in the wrong sized box. I was kind of pushed into doing this – it’s not something I think I would ever have chosen to do voluntarily – but now that I'm here, I couldn't go back to being the old me any more than you can fit your clothes back into your suitcase at the end of a holiday.”

He snorted at that, still finding his beer more worthy of his attention than me.

“I started hormone treatment today. It’s too early to say exactly what it’ll do to me, but it’s almost certainly going to make me feel less male and more female, more me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really want me to spell it out? My little soldier’s going to stop standing to attention for one thing, I’m most likely going to have to cope with being more emotional, a few physical changes if I’m lucky.”

“That doesn't bother you?”

“It’s my choice so no, I’m actually quite looking forward to it. It doesn't matter that I’ve only been doing this a few weeks, I’m in it for the long haul. In time I may even do something about the plumbing arrangements.”

“You mean…”

“I do. If you want any more proof that there's a girl in here, you’ll get it the day I ask a surgeon to take away my danglies.”

The silence that followed was kind of uncomfortable. He was probably imagining and wincing internally at something else I was looking forward to.

“I’m guessing none of that helps us right now though, does it?”

“Not really.”

“Guys can just be friends with girls though, can't they? Or is that just the girl in me thinking wishfully?”

“What are you getting at?”

“If you can’t stop thinking about me, maybe we could meet as friends. Platonic only. You’re good company; I could enjoy hanging out with you, and you never know you may decide you don’t like me after all.”

“I’m not sure that’s going to happen.”

“Well, at least it’ll make things more bearable for you until your dumb stick points you in the direction of someone more conventionally female.”

“You wouldn't mind that?”

“Oh no, I’d end up hating you with a fury the like of which hell hath no. A woman scorned and all that.”

“Now you're scaring me.”

“No need. I’ll only badmouth you to my friends, and I don't have enough of them to worry you too much.

“Up to you Keith.” I fished my phone out of my handbag, just as it chose to start ringing. “Hang on a moment,” I said and answered. “Hi Moira, timing not great. No, I'm fine, we’ll be back in a moment. Yup, thanks.”

“Moira?”

“We girls look out for each other and Moira’s one of a very select few who sees me the way I see myself. What was I saying, oh yeah, up to you. I could give you my digits and leave you to decide what to do next. If you want we can meet in Cardiff or Swansea, well away from anyone who's going to recognise either of us, and spend an evening chatting and stuff. No expectations, just two people who like each other enjoying each other’s company. If it doesn't work out at least you’ll be able to stop thinking about me.”

“And if it does end up getting complicated?”

“Then we talk it through like the adults we’re supposed to be. If it gets too scary we back off. This is about the only place we’re likely to cross paths and I’m not totally sold on pub quizzing, so I could let Dafydd’s team down next time and give you a chance to regain the middle ground.”

“Okay, it sounds like a plan. Except…”

“Except what?”

“I don't know, after this conversation I think I've fallen for you even more.”

I put my phone back in my bag and hunted out a pen and notebook. Number written down, page torn out and stuffed in his trousers pocket. Hints of something going on in the trouser department that had me a little worried.

“Call me or don’t, whatever you think will help. I’m going back in before Moira calls the police.”

“You mean Dafydd?”

“Well, he is kind of convenient.”

“Gillian?”

“Yes Keith.”

“Thank you. I wasn't sure you’d understand, but I think you do better than me. I have to ask though, could you fancy a bloke like me?”

“Definite potential there, but not giving into it just now. See you inside.”

I walked back into the pub. Moira gave me a concerned look which I managed to calm with a free and easy smile.

“He’s not being any trouble is he?” Dafydd asked with a total lack of subtlety, “because I could make up something to charge him with, walking on the cracks in the pavement or some such.”

“Don't you dare,” I laughed. “He’s a nice guy and he’s been nothing but open, honest and considerate. Besides, if you arrested him it’d put us a little closer to last place again, wouldn't it?”