Chapter 7

We had just walked in, and I was admiring the wonderful stained-glass windows. Randall was looking around.

“I used to come here with my parents as a youngster, before we moved to Bury. It hasn’t changed a bit.”

We jumped when there was a voice behind us.

“It hasn’t changed much since the thirteenth century, young Randall Chivers. Long time since you’ve been in here.”

Randall turned and shook the mans’ hand.

“We moved away, Vicar, and then I left home to join the police. Then I was training at Martlesham Heath for a while.”

“And now you’re here, in your old church, with the lovely Carol Novak. There must be a reason. You wouldn’t be just showing her the sights.”

“Astute as always, Vicar. We’ve been discussing marriage, and this would be the church of choice, if you’d have us.”

“When would that be, not an instant decision, I hope.”

Randall laughed.

“Nothing like that, Vicar. We’re looking around this time next year. There’s a few things to sort out before then.”

The Vicar looked at us and smiled.

“Now, that’s so old-fashioned it warms my heart. There’s too many who have walked in here and demanded that the nuptials take place within the next two months so that the bride can still get into her wedding dress. And you, Miss Novak. We haven’t seen you in here, are you not religious?”

“Not a lot, Vicar. My ancestors were nominally Catholic, as they came over from Poland at the beginning of the war. The war years messed all that up and they never regained their faith. I went to the St. James Primary, which was C of E, in Colchester, and then to the Gilberd High, which was non-denominational. My parents spent much of Sundays catching up on housework, being busy growing the family business.”

“What business is that?”

“We’re Newman Electrical in Colchester. We have a big shop for retail, and another one for wholesale and repair work. Newman is the translation of Nowak.”

“Interesting. Yet you’ve been here for a few years, now.”

“It was an opportunity to be on air, something I’ve wanted to do for ages.”

“Yes, I’ve heard your voice and loved a lot of your shows. Not those brash new things, though, although it does go down well with some of our younger parishioners. I heard that you, and your colleagues, were instrumental in keeping the bases on an even keel over the last two years. An admirable feat and would have been tiring.”

“It would have been worse if there hadn’t been the four of us with base access. It was like going into another country, even before COVID, and even more so when we were in lockdown. On the two bases here, it was as if the virus didn’t exist. The two RAF bases we went to were more like the normal state of things.”

“Have a look around, good people, and when you get closer to the date you can see me to pencil it in. I would hope to see a bit more of you at that time, to make sure that you hearts are in the right place.”

He left us to our wanderings. The church was, indeed, magnificent, from the high ceiling to the wonderful windows and even a pipe organ. I had been living as a woman for long enough, with the extra input from my female friends, to appreciate the setting and imagine myself walking down the aisle in a white dress. A lot had to happen before that day, though.

We sat on a bench in the churchyard. Randall was quiet.

“What’s the problem, love?”

“This has brought so many memories back to me. To a time when my father still loved me, and my mother was witty and intelligent. Now, he hates me and she’s fading fast. On my own, I could just dismiss it all, but with you, my darling, it makes me realise that I have to make a new life and be successful, for us.”

“Don’t let it get to you. I’ve got a reasonable amount saved up, with hardly any expenses since I’ve been here. I have a good salary and I get a dividend from the family business, considering that I have a quarter of it. I expect that we have, between us, enough for a good deposit on a nice home, enough for furnishings, and we both have good jobs. Yours may be more secure than mine, though.”

“It’s just that I was brought up with the concept that it’s the husbands’ job to support the family, with the wife meant to be at home or as an adornment.”

“Get with the modern day, love. Queen Victoria is long gone, and your fathers’ ideas are long past their use-by date. If anything, the last couple of years have changed the country more than any ten years since the Spanish Flu and the Plague. We’re going to be a team, or else it’s off. I’m no mere adornment.”

He hugged and kissed me.

“You’ll always look good, my darling. I’ll try to be inclusive.”

“Talking about being inclusive, you know where I live but you’ve never taken me to your home, wherever it is.”

“Ah. That’s not a place where I would like to be, but it’s walking distance to the police station and there’s parking for the car. I have a rather grotty rental in Wamil Court. Some of us call it Waydown Court, the brick equivalent of living on a trailer park. It’s not somewhere that I’m proud of.”

“Any particular reason for that?”

“I keep it tidy enough. It’s just that there’s no maintenance, and the TV reception is intermittent.”

“Where’s the aerial?”

“On some blocks it’s on an end wall, but rentals like ours, I think it’s in the roof.”

“It could be rats chewing on the cable. Do you have an access hatch?”

“If there is, it’s probably in the shared laundry.”

“Check it out and speak to your neighbours. See if you can get hold of a stepladder and let me know. I’ll dress appropriately next Sunday and bring my kit with me. And make sure that you get a big box of rat pellets, as I’ll spread them around the roof if I see a nest.”

“You really are amazing, my darling.”

“Tell me that when I’ve got your reception back.”

“So, what about where we’re going to live after we get married?”

“We have plenty of time to look around. We just need something with enough room for us and two cars. It doesn’t have to be a flash mansion, but detached or semi would be nice.”

“It seems like such a big thing. They say that buying a house is one of the biggest decisions that you can make.”

“Are you getting cold feet?”

“No, I’m just naturally wary of doing something that will throw up a flag with my father. He’ll find out, one way or another. He’s in a lodge with most of the business owners and property offices in town.”

“You never know, we may not be here at that time, life has a habit of throwing you a curve ball.”

“I guess. I might get a transfer to another area. I’ve been studying for sergeants’ stripes in the past year, not being able to go out a lot. My sergeant is supportive. I don’t want to be a uniformed constable in a patrol car all my life.”

“I’ve been asked about moving to other stations but have resisted the offers. Who knows, we may get offers at a good time to move.”

We walked up to the Cappadocia Meze Grill after we had talked most of the afternoon and had dinner. He walked me home and we had a little kissing session before he got in his car to go off home. I went up to my room and thought about what we had discussed. There was a lot to unpack, not the least being looking at a church, something that had never been in my perceptions of a likely future.

I was back at work on Monday morning and into sorting out my shows for the week. On the Sunday, I was in the roof over Randalls’ rental with my kit and a box of rat poison. The aerial was in the roof space and the connections had been loosened by rats chewing on the cable. I was able to splice in a new section and put some poison around. It took another hour, walking on the joists to track all the cables to the other units and make repairs as I went, with enough rat poison left behind to wipe out the rats of Hamblyn.

As the residents tested their TVs, we were offered money but refused. It had been a simple job which raised Randall in the eyes of his neighbours, some that I could see wouldn’t have had much love for the police. He took me home to change and shower, and the came back to take me out to one of the country pubs that we liked. After the meal, I raised my glass to him.

“A toast to you, Randall, a man of sense and empathy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“There were neighbours of yours who probably have their faces adorning the walls of police stations, yet you choose to turn a blind eye. Even I could see the looks that they gave you. It was a begrudging thanks, but they will be happy when you move out.”

“You have me there, my love. I know that there may have been bad pennies scattered through that complex, but they don’t bother me, so I let it lie. I keep learning things about myself with the more I learn about you.”

“That’s why you’ll make a good detective as you go up in the world. You won’t just grab the first one who looks like the criminal. You’ll get the evidence right before you pounce.”

“You make me sound like a lion.”

“You will be, to some, but you’ll always be my big pussy cat.”

The weeks flowed, one to another, with the biggest event was having a reporters and photographer from the Eastern Daily Express in the studio. They wanted the full story of our times with the bases and the rise of the studio in spite of COVID. They took pictures of the four of us, each holding our presentation vase, as well as us having to open up the van and describe how we operated on a remote site. The article was in the paper, in a special edition about notable businesses during the year in the area, in the week before Christmas. Then, it was time for another Christmas. I had the week off, seeing that I had worked through the last one, but Randall had to work. We had a Christmas dinner together and exchanged gifts. We had finally got around to buying rings, nothing fancy, just gold bands with engraving inside.

I went home between the public holidays to give my family their gifts and to catch up with the news. Some of the news wasn’t good, as Dad was having a hard time getting back to normal after his first bout of COVID, and a brush with a second, even though it was minimised with the vaccine. I had a quick visit to my doctor, who told me that my shows were still popular in the hospital, with them getting regular recordings from Zack as well as repeating old ones.

I popped into the hospital radio studio to say hello. Most of the older volunteers had gone, some with COVID, but the newer ones that were there were happy to see me. I was given a bag of mail that had come for me over the last couple of months, that hadn’t been forwarded. I took it home and looked through it with Mum.

Ninety percent were thank you notes from discharged patients but there were a few that were more than interesting. There were a couple from local radio stations, asking me to drop in if I was interested in joining them. For me, that would be a backward step after the coverage I had been enjoying. One was a note from an executive of BBC 1, with an invitation to speak to them about joining the BBC Essex team, working out of Chelmsford. That had been left there in late November.

I took the interesting ones back to Mildenhall with me. I was meeting up with Randall for a New Year party. Back in my usual surroundings, we welcomed in 2023 with a big group of friends at the Mildenhall Social Club. Most of the station were there and there was a three-piece local group on the small stage. Randall was on call, so had his radio clipped to his waistband, and had to head off at eleven to help with a party that had gone off the rails. He was back at ten past midnight, so we got our new year kiss in before he drove me home for another session.

It was February when I had the notification from the hospital with my operation date. It was to be in the first week of September. I made the arrangements with the station for that week and the two that followed as my holiday.

The week after that, I had another letter delivered to the studio, marked ‘Private & Confidential’. Chris gave it to me with a grin. I didn’t open it until I was back home, in my bedroom. It was a short note, just an invitation to meet a representative of BBC Radio Essex, at a time and place of my choosing. There was an information sheet about the station with a picture of a white building and another of a very modern desk, without a single turntable.

On the Sunday, I showed it to Randall. He laughed so I punched his arm.

“Sorry, darling. I’ve got something that came around last week. My Inspector suggested that I think about it, as it’s a step up to plain clothes.”

It was a flyer with the Essex Police logo, asking for expressions of interest in transferring to their detective division, operating out of Chelmsford, with a probationary three months as a detective constable, rising to detective sergeant if that rank had already been reached in the uniform branch.

“I’ve been told that I can sit the exam in two weeks if I want to try for this. It doesn’t commence until July, after some extra training, so would give me time. There’s no sergeant places available here until someone retires, and most are still in their fifties, with the COVID losses already filled. They’ll contact my superiors before getting back to me with an invitation to a meeting.”

“Do you want to give it a try?”

“It would take me a long way from my father, and my mother hardly recognises me now. Where’s that radio station?”

“In Chelmsford, one and a half miles from the police headquarters.”

He hugged me and we kissed.

“Could we move?”

“Of course. I would actually be closer to my family if we lived there. We both have to get the jobs first.”

That week, we both made the move to see if we could change our future. I rang the contact on my letter, and we had a nice talk, agreeing to a meeting, in Colchester, on the next Sunday. We set the meeting at midday, at the Swan Inn, south of the city. It was, after all, my home turf, and I could see my family before coming back. Randall had that day off so could drive me down in the MG.

It was a rainy drive down, and I was glad that he was driving. We got to the hotel before noon and dashed inside, asking for the table booked in the name of Novac. We used the conveniences and then sat with drinks before he turned up, a couple of minutes after noon. When he was pointed to our table, I stood and shook his hand and introduced Randall as my fiancé.

He was Walter Benson, and in charge of the station HR. He apologised for being late, citing the weather and other drivers who used the outside lanes on the A12 but travelled well under the speed limit. We ordered our meals and he asked for some water. Over the course of an hour, he told us that it was the article in the Eastern Daily that had been syndicated to the other Home Counties during January, that had piqued the interest in me, especially as I was an Essex Girl.

The station was broadcast on AM, FM, and DAB, with an on-line link and wasn’t twenty-four hour, with five hours silent during the early hours.

There wasn’t a headline celebrity as such, and a lot of the programming was shared content with all of the county BBC1 stations in the east contributing. From six, the content was supplied by BBC1 nationally. The weekend had local content in the morning, with shared and regional in the afternoon and network content in the evening.

He seemed happy with what we had talked about, and then got serious.

“Look, this is between us. Four of our presenters will be leaving us in September. Three were putting on a show called ‘Essex Quest’ which will be discontinued. Two were regular weekend morning presenters. We’re looking for someone bright and happy to do six hours on Saturday and Sunday mornings, as well as helping out between two and six on weekdays. The forward planning is a start in the first week of September.”

“I’m in hospital during that week, and will be ready on the fourth week, at the earliest. I suppose that I could see about getting it put forward, but I doubt that they would be able to do so, seeing the backlog that they’re working through.”

“We could work with that. The weekend mornings are usually two on the desk, so we could get you in and pre-record segments. It will only be six shows, after all. Can you leave Zack if we make the offer, and come to us a month earlier?”

“I could. I’ve been happy there but being part of the BBC will be good. My time in Mildenhall has been exciting and very busy, but it’s time to move on. Randall is applying for a transfer to the Essex Police, so it would be great if we both start new jobs.”

When we parted, he promised to get back to me within two weeks, as there would be meetings to endure. We went into Colchester to see my family before heading back to Mildenhall.

Two weeks later, I had received a registered letter from the BBC, with an official invitation to fill in the forms enclosed. This led me to ring Walter.

“Mister Benson, it’s Carol Novac. I have your application forms. I have a question, which may cause you to withdraw your offer.”

“Oh, yes, Carol. Is that the one about you really being Charles Newman?”

“Actually, it is. My reason for the operation is to become Carol by medical intervention. My gender problem was a medical one, not a life-style choice. I’ll be able to become officially Carol after the operation.”

“That’s not a problem, Carol. We did our due diligence before we got in touch. It’s not as if you’ve gone to great lengths to hide the fact. We’ve listened to your shows, and I’ve met you in person. There is no way that you’re anything other than a female radio presenter, and you do it very well. Just fill in those forms with your current name and we’ll do a duplicate when you get your new birth certificate.”

I filled in the forms and sent them back. While I was waiting, Randall had been given a date for an interview. He had sat for his exam and passed, and his superiors had given him a positive review. He drove us down to Chelmsford on a Wednesday morning; my two shows having been pre-recorded.

The interview was at the police headquarters, with both of us asked to attend after he had made it known that he was engaged. The interview process was usual. We sat in a waiting area with a group of other couples, with each couple being called in, but obviously leaving by another door.

When we were called in, he was told to sit on one of the seats in front of four other senior officers, two male and two female. I was pointed to a seat by the door. He was asked a lot of questions about his experience and his reasons for wanting a transfer. They all had a copy of his file in front of them.

When that had run its course, I was invited to sit beside him. The first question was rather brutal.

“Miss Novac. You do realise that being the wife of a policeman is one of not knowing if he’ll be coming home at night. The wife of a detective is even harder, as he may be somewhere in the county for days on end.”

“I do realise that. I’ll have my own job and I’m old enough to understand the dangers. If my years with Randall are brought short, it will still be better than not being with him at all.”

“What is your own job, if we may be so bold?”

“I’m on a short list to be a presenter on BBC1 Essex Radio later in the year.”

One of the women leaned forward.

“I read an article about a bunch of radio people keeping our servicemen on an even keel over COVID. I think that you may have been named.”

“I was one of four with unlimited access to supply DJ entertainment to USAF personnel at Mildenhall and Lakenheath, as well as at RAF Fairford and Marham during last year.”

“They gave you ID that gave you access to four operational air bases?”

“They also gave the four of us commemorative vases afterwards. That was the night I met Randall. Christine and I had pulled into a layby to have a cry when we were going home, and he was in the patrol car that checked us out.”

“And now you’re both sitting here, looking as much as a couple as you can be. Will you be intending to live in Chelmsford?”

“We will be, if we can find a nice place at the right price.”

“You don’t mind coming here?”

“I’m originally from Colchester, so I’ll be closer to my family than I am now.”

The four of them had a huddle, then the senior officer smiled.

“Officer Chivers. We have decided that you would make a good recruit to our detective branch. Your down-to-earth approach, your review from your current superiors, and the obvious support of Miss Novac has tipped the balance. There will be an official form sent to your superior, asking for your release from the Suffolk Police. We can supply temporary housing while you undergo extra training. We have your exam results, and you will become a Detective Sergeant once you’ve passed the probationary period. You are both aware, I hope, that should you not pass the probationary period, there is no way back. You will be out of a job and unlikely to get another in the police.”

“Understood, sir.”

“The constable will see you both out. I look forward to seeing you make a good career with us.”

We both stood and were led out through another door. Before we left the building, Randall had been photographed and had his fingerprints taken to be part of his official file.

We stopped at a pub on the way home, for dinner, and didn’t drop me outside the house in Mildenhall until nearly nine. I gave him an extra kiss before I went inside. It had been a long and very interesting day.

Marianne Gregory © 2026