“Mr O’Neill what on earth were you thinking of, have you taken leave of your senses?” the headmaster, Jack Armitage, angrily demanded as he glared at me.“ No matter what the provocation you cannot throw one of your pupils across the classroom.”

“What was I supposed to do?” I glared back at him with no intention of accepting any rebuke from him. “Young Galbraith has been the bane of my life and for most of the other staff this term, he disrupts the classes, is cheeky and sarcastic, and refuses to answer when asked a question. The final straw for me was when he came right up to me face-to-face and sneered that I was not enough of a man to keep him under control. For the record, I did not throw him across the room, all I did was push him away from me and he fell back onto a desk.”

“That’s as may be, we will deal with him separately, but you lost your temper and went way beyond the bounds of what is acceptable. You acted contrary to all your professional training and responsibilities, your lack of any remorse gives me no choice but to suspend you while we investigate the matter further so that the governors can consider your future at this school.”

“I expected more support from you and the other staff, you all know that discipline in this school is a joke, and that many of the pupils run rings around the staff. It is not helped that you that you, with your wishy-washy liberal attitudes, refuse to change things and impose any punishments for unacceptable behaviour. I’m totally fed up with it all and if that is your attitude, then there is no need to suspend me. I resign with immediate effect, there’s no way that I can continue when I have no faith in how you run. or fail to run, the school.”

I slammed his office door as I stormed out and went to collect all my personal belongings. As I left the school I was ignored by virtually everyone, staff and pupils, the only person who came up to me to say goodbye, and that she was really sorry to see me go, was Jacquie Marshall, a close colleague who I had been out on dates with a few times.

“I’m so sorry Cathal, you have been unfairly treated, that Gavin Galbraith is an evil little b*****, it was about time that someone told him that he goes too far and put him in his place, it’s disappointing that Armitage didn’t support you. Good luck, you’ll need it, it’s unlikely that you will get another teaching post, he will never give you a reference for another post, but maybe now you will get to finish that novel that you have been talking about for ages.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek, wiped away a tear, smiled, and walked away.

The last few months my life at the school had been absolute hell, thanks to Galbraith and his friends, Jacquie was the only thing I would miss about the place. I walked away through the school grounds and through the gate without a backward glance, in many ways glad that I had been put in a position where there was no alternative but to leave.

That period of my life was now over, but back in my apartment, over a glass or two of whiskey, I looked back at how I had got to this stage of my life.

Growing up I had a strange childhood, my parents were professional actors and always away on tour, using the family house as a base when they were appearing in the area, leaving me in the care of my Great-Aunt Margaret, or Auntie Meg as I called her. She was unmarried and lived in ‘Tara’s Lodge’,a large Georgian period house just outside the town of Southdale, with a huge garden that bordered onto woodlands and meadows, an ideal playground for a young boy. Being unmarried without children she treated me as if I was her own child, indulged me and made sure that I was happy and did not miss my mother and father too much. I was later told that my parents who were in a group of touring actors, had become involved with a pagan-cult travellers commune, permanently high on drugs and indulging in free love, which Auntie Meg thought was not an ideal life for a child. She refused to let them take me with them and unofficially adopted me and brought me up herself.

Her family a few generations back had been quite wealthy with extensive land and property in County Antrim in Northern Ireland, before relocating to England. Along with what she had inherited, and a trust fund left to me by my grandparents, she had more than enough to keep us both in a very comfortable lifestyle.

Whilst she encouraged me to go and play rough games with the other boys, climb trees, mess about in the nearby streams, and generally enjoy my childhood, she also insisted that I help her about the house. She drummed into me that I needed to learn to look after myself, wash and iron my clothes. learn to sew and do minor repairs to any of my clothes that got damaged when I was out playing, and, above all, learn to cook and bake.

In many ways at times she treated me as if I was a girl and sometimes even dressed me in a skirt and blouse and called me Cathy rather than Cathal when I was doing girly things with her. It had all started with wearing a headscarf to keep my longish hair from my face when baking, and wearing an apron over my shorts, which looked as if I was wearing a skirt, but it soon developed into being dressed in girls’ clothes almost always inside the house.

When I was younger it was all so innocent and I thought nothing of it and just assumed that it was not unusual, but as I grew into my teens I began to realise that it was not conventional and gradually stopped, much to Auntie Meg’s disappointment. After that I developed as any other boy my age, but it was to continue to be in my psyche and have an influence on my later life.

“You may not always have a woman to make sure you eat properly, making a decent meal for yourself will always be necessary.” was something she drummed into me the many times I was in the kitchen with her. Over time I became a quite competent baker and cook and before I went away to university that had become my main domestic chore.

Auntie Meg was not a great lover of television and we spent most evenings reading, meaning that I grew up with a love of books and literature, mainly the classics by Charles Dickens, Robert Louis Stevenson, Anna Sewell, Lewis Carroll, Jane Austen, the Brontë sisters, and Mark Twain, but also some of the ones she had enjoyed as a child, Anne of Green Gables, Malory Towers, What Katy Did, Little Women, Heidi, The Secret Garden, all in all a very eclectic mix that inspired my interest in all sorts of stories, leading me to study literature and creative writing at university, and make my career as a teacher of English Language and Literature.

Although I was now living in an apartment nearer to the school where I taught, or had been teaching, I still visited Auntie Meg regularly and made sure that she was looking after herself in her old age. We hadn’t seen my parents for years, and didn’t know where they were or even if they were still alive, and she was effectively the only relative I had so we continued to be close.

As Jacquie had suggested I spent my time trying to complete my novel ‘Troublesome Times’, a historical period story of life in our home area in Regency England in the early 1800s. Weaving into the lives of a family of farmers, it followed the great social unrest that was sweeping the country in the years following the revolutions in France and America, and the growing industrialisation causing changes in the labour market. This was all at odds with the usual images of aristocratic life and the social whirl from the novels of Austen and the Brontë sisters, but was instead told from the point of view of the lower social classes. I was not happy with it, it was too dry and lifeless and needed a bit of a spark to make it more readable and enjoyable.I was constantly reviewing it and rewriting it, but it still did not click. I was beginning to doubt that I would ever be successful as an author.

I received a formal looking letter one day from my Aunt Meg’s solicitor telling me that she had passed away suddenly, and advising me of the details of her funeral and the time for the reading of her will. It was a major shock to me, she had seemed fit and well for her age on my last visit, only a few weeks earlier, and I had never thought that i would soon be alone in the world.

I was dismayed at her funeral, I was the only family representative there, along with a few friends and neighbours. It was a poor showing really, considering how active she had been in local organisations and community life, but I supposed that at her age most of her contemporaries would already be dead and that she was the last of her era. Her nearest neighbour, Emma Metcalf who I had met a few times at my Auntie’s house, invited me back to hers, along with some of the neighbours, for tea and cakes and we had the usual chats and reminiscing about Auntie Meg. I stayed for a while as I felt it to be my duty, and also to hear some of the memories of her from her friends, but when it later turned to general chat about what was going on in the neighbourhood, I felt it was time to leave and spend some time with my own memories.

“Your Aunt Margaret was a wonderful woman Cathal, you must miss her. Please call me if ever you want to talk about her.” Emma told me as she hugged me goodbye as I left.

A few days later I was in the solicitor’s office, just me, again my parents did not show up. I had thought that, as is often the case, they would turn up in the hope of a legacy for themselves.

“The will is fairly simple Mr. O’Neill, with no other known relatives to take a share as she specifically excluded your parents, apart from a few small bequests to neighbours and carers, all her possessions, substantial bank accounts and investments, including the house, pass on to you. The only significant matter is that for you to totally inherit the house you must use it as your main home and move in permanently for at least 5 years. She states that it was effectively your childhood home and that she would like it to remain in the family. do you agree to that?”

“It couldn’t have come at a better time, I have recently lost my job and am struggling with a new career and trying to work out what to do with my life. It will take a while to sort things out before I move in, but I was always happy there and will be glad to comply.”

Luckily my flat, which was in an up-and-coming area of the town, sold almost as soon as it was put on the market, and within weeks I moved into ‘Tara’s Lodge’. Although most of the furniture and decoration was dated, and reflected Aunie Meg’s tastes, it all went with the classical Georgian features of the building. Most of my more modern things from my flat were moved into what was to become my study and workroom. As well as the house I had been left a a large amount of money and investments which meant that I could continue to write for the foreseeable future without being on the artistic breadline.

I was out in the front garden a few days after moving in trying to tidy it up and get it under control again, it had got a bit overgrown when Auntie Meg could no longer care for it herself or supervise a garden contractor who was supposed to have looked after it, when my neighbour Emma walked up the drive, looking friendly.

“Hi Cathal, I’m so glad that you have decided to live in Tara’s Lodge, your aunt loved this house and I am sure that she would have been delighted to see you living here. You’re obviously busy at the moment, but why not come over later for tea, cake and a chat, and we can get to know each other better?”

As I was still a bit stuck on what to do with my novel, and tired from an afternoon of physical work I was not in the mood for writing, after I finished what I was doing in the garden I went in, got cleaned up and changed, and went over to Emma’s.

“What do you do then Cathal if you don’t mind me asking, you seem to be around a lot and not going out to work.” she asked as we sat and chatted over the tea and cakes.

“I was an English teacher until recently but that all finished just before Auntie Meg died, now I am trying to be an author, but am not being very successful at that either.”

“That sounds so interesting, what sort of stuff do you write, anything I could have read?”

“No, I’m still working on my first novel, a slice of life in the Regency period.”

“Oh super, all Elizabeth Bennett and Emma Woodhouse is it?”

“Far from it, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and ‘Emma’ are classics, I could never hope to write anything as popular as those. ‘Troublesome Times’ is more down to earth, dealing with the trials and tribulations of a country farming family, and how they are affected by all the social turmoil of the time. It still needs a lot of work before I start looking to publish it.”

“You sound like you are being a bit hard on yourself, you need to have more confidence. If it will help, let me read it and see what I think, you never know, you might be being over-critical. I used to teach English and drama before I got married and John got his job as a TV journalist. He is always on his travels so I have plenty of time on my hands. What do you think?”

“If you don’t mind being bored to death, feel free, I would appreciate a review by someone else. It’s all on my computer, are you ok with a copy of the file or do you want a printed copy?”

“No just put it on a USB stick or memory card, or attach it to an email, saves using all that paper, we’re all supposed to be doing our bit to save the planet nowadays.”

Emma was easy to get on with, she was seriously interested in books and literature generally and specifically in what I was doing and I also enjoyed my time with her chatting about Auntie Meg and my life with her at ‘Tara’s Lodge. It was good to have a break and spend some time socialising, I was becoming a bit of a recluse.

After a week or so, I phoned Emma to see if she had read my novel, or at least as much as I had completed, and invited her over to Tara’s Lodge to talk about it.

“I was last over here just over a week before Margaret died, I’m glad that you have left things more or less as they were, she had the house furnished and decorated in keeping with its age and character, I always felt that it was cosy, comfortable and inviting for such a large property.”

“Thank you Emma, when I was growing up here I never really realised how different it was from the way that most other people lived, it was just my home. When I get myself sorted out and this novel out of my hair, there are a few things that I plan to do, but for the moment everything is staying as it always has been. Since I have mentioned the novel, what did you think of it?”

“To be honest I found it a bit dry and hard to keep an interest in. It seems that you are trying to balance a lot of social and political background with the personal life of the family, but it reads more like a non-fiction record of events whereas I was expecting it to be a bit lighter and more personal. You have to decide what market you are aiming for with the book. If you want it to sell well you need to lighten it up, otherwise it will have very low sales to a specialist group of people who have a particular academic interest in the period. I’m sorry if that sounds a bit blunt but you did ask for an honest opinion when you gave me the copy. You need to mentally put yourself in the minds of the characters, feel their emotions, think how you would react if it was you, relate to your characters and they will spring to life to your readers.”

“Fair enough, I will have a rethink and see what I can do. Have you got time to stay for a chat, the one we had last week lifted my spirits a bit , the world seems a bit lonely after all the hustle and bustle of school life.”

“I’d like it too, with John being away filming so much I am stuck at home a lot. I meet up with some of the other women and girls occasionally and enjoy that, but whenever they arrange social gatherings or visits anywhere I usually give them a miss as I always feel a bit of a gooseberry around them and their husbands.”

“That’’s good, I will go and fetch some cake and biscuits, do you prefer tea or coffee?”

“That was delicious Cathal, were they homemade?”

“Yes, they are fresh made this morning, Auntie Meg insisted that I learned to cook when I was younger and I quite enjoy baking and find it relaxing. Most of my meals I make myself, at least I know what is in them, rather than all the additives and preservatives in commercial products.

“I’ve noticed when I have been here before that there are several photos around the place of a young girl working in the kitchen, so your Aunt obviously enjoyed passing on her skills, was that a relative or friend of yours?”

I blushed deeply and struggled to compose myself while I considered how to reply.

“I’m sorry Cathal have I asked an awkward question, you seem a bit flummoxed?”

“Can I trust you to keep this to yourself?”

“Of course you can, what is the matter?”

I decided to be honest with her and taking a deep breath and staring into her eyes I began my story.

“Actually the girl in the photos is me. When Auntie Meg was teaching me how to bake, I was getting flour all over my clothes so she insisted that I wore an apron. With it wrapped all around me and with me wearing shorts she said that she thought it looked like a skirt and that with my curly collar length hair that I looked a bit like like a girl, we had a laugh about it. Next time I was in the kitchen she again said it looked like a skirt and asked if I would like to try one on, so that we would look a bit more like each other, like the mother and daughter on the front of her baking recipe book. Gradually I was dressed more and more often in girls’ outfits, skirts and blouses, dresses and even knickers. This was only around the house, whenever I went out to school or to play with friends I was always fully dressed in my boys’ clothes. This went on for a few years, until in my early teens, I began to feel uncomfortable and it was all stopped. So there you know now, but please keep it to yourself, it’s not something I want people to know, it could be very embarrassing, and awkward, particularly if I ever decide to go back to teaching.”

“It’s between you and me, but it was not your fault, however I am surprised by what Margaret did.”

“Obviously society now is a bit more open and I found out that I was not alone, the internet is full of stories and videos about people struggling with their gender identity and their transformations. At the time I think that she was just a bit lonely and felt the need for some feminine company. Leaving aside the dressing up, I really enjoyed my time with her and all the things she taught me. I had a much better life with her than i would have had with my parents, and I do not hold it against her.”

“If it’s not too embarrassing a question, do you ever dress up now or wish you could dress up?”

“Until you brought it up I have never really thought about it since it stopped in my teens, so the answer is no, I do not ‘dress up’ as you call it. Can we talk about something else please, I am uncomfortable with this.”

“You said that you could do with company occasionally, I am in a book club and several of us get together regularly to review our book of the month and have a chat, tea, coffee, cakes and sometimes a bottle of wine, would you like to join us next time? It will be my turn to host, so if you don’t like it you can easily leave and come back home. At the moment it is all women, we have had some men before, but they always have other things to do, so you will be more than welcome, a bit of fresh blood and getting a male perspective never does any harm. Margaret used to come over sometimes especially when it was held at my house, you can be her replacement.”

“Thanks for asking Emma, I will give it a try but I can’t guarantee that I will become a regular, let’s just see how it goes.”

A week later, I made my way to Emma’s, and was greeted by her and introduced to the others. Like me and Emma, all were in their thirties or forties and seemed a pleasant welcoming crowd, Jan, Moira and Di were stay-at-home mums with young school-age children, Liz, Elinor and Anne worked part-time from home as call-centre contacts, and Emma introduced me as a former teacher and now an aspiring author, which sparked a lot of interest.

Over the drinks and food they all discussed what the thought of the latest novel by Ann Cleeves, a well known contemporary writer of mystery crime stories with a lot of background personal goings-on, many of which, like Shetland and Vera, had been adapted for TV. I knew and enjoyed a lot of her work and when Emma had told me what their book-of-the-month was I was glad to get a copy so that could contribute to the discussions. As they chatted about the book it became obvious to me that they were following different traits in the story. I had focussed mainly on the crime aspects, whereas most of their interest was on the personal and professional relationships between the main characters and how that interacted with the investigations. It was a bit of an eye-opener for me and I began to realise what Emma had meant when she told me that my novel needed a bit lighter approach, and while listening to them my mind was on how I could modify my work.

Back at home, two things were playing with my mind. Since my last chat with Emma I had been thinking about my childhood dressing up with Auntie Meg, and this was now added to by the comments during the book review about the personal relationships. I began to have dreams about working on my story dressed as a woman to get a more feminine perspective on the events and these dreams played on my mind as a I worked.

It got to the stage that I couldn’t concentrate on my writing and I decided to do something about it. When my mother disappeared she had left a lot of her clothes and things in the cupboards of one of the bedrooms where they had remained untouched ever since, and I went to see if any of them were still fit to wear. Most of the clothes were musty, totally inappropriate, or the wrong size, but I did manage to find a couple of skirts that were wearable along with a few tops and a selection of underwear that once it had a good wash would be usable. I even found a few pairs of sandals that I could squeeze my feet into, so there was enough to see if dressing as a woman could change my views on the characters in the story and make it more appealing to a wider readership.

I put the clothes in the wash and spent the rest of the day getting myself ready, washing and conditioning my hair, shaving my arms, legs and the bits of my body I could easily reach, tossing and turning in my mind thinking about what I was about to do. After a busy day I was quite tired so just moved the washing into the tumble dryer and had an early night.

To be continued.

The next morning, I woke bright and early, brushed out my hair into as feminine a style as I could manage, had a really close shave of my face. put on a dressing gown and went to give the clothes a tumble-dry.

Later after getting get the clothes out of the dryer I was soon dressed from the skin out in some of my mother’s old clothes, which hadn’t dated too much and were still acceptable. After struggling with the bra and tights, the cotton striped top, denim mid-thigh skirt, and a pair of 2” block-heel sandals completed the outfit.

I was now ready to see if changing my style of dressing would also change my mindset and give me inspiration to improve my novel.

Being down in the kitchen, preparing my breakfast, dressed in a skirt for the first time in many years brought back many happy memories of my times there with Auntie Meg. Here she had not only introduced me to the delights of baking and cooking, but had also first dressed me as a girl, which continued through my formative years.

In my late teens, and early twenties at University and then learning the hard way about teaching to a class of unruly disinterested pupils, all thoughts of wearing skirts had faded, but I now found it strangely comforting to recall how dressing as a girl gave me a special bond with Auntie Meg and enriched my childhood. However my daydreaming of past times had to stop as the main reason I was dressed in these clothes was not to reminisce, but to see if it would inspire me to introduce a wider appeal to my novel.

I decided that if I was to have a new approach to my writing that I needed to reorganise my study and work desk too, to try to create a different atmosphere. I tidied everything up, gave the room a clean, picked some flowers from my garden and put them in a vase on my desk alongside a photo of Auntie Meg with me dressed as a girl, the whole feel of the room was now much more relaxed and feminine and would hopefully affect my mood as I worked.

I was generally happy with the main themes of the book and didn’t think that the general direction of it needed to be altered, just the details and characterisation, so decided to amend it, page by page and chapter by chapter. All morning I chopped and changed, re-read and changed again most of the detail, strengthening personalities and relationships and totally reworked the first two chapters before stopping for a break.

On the way to the kitchen, I stopped to look at myself in the full-length hall mirror and was surprised at how feminine I looked. At 5’7” (170cm) I was short for a man but was quite tall for a woman, similarly my slight not over-muscular frame at 10 stone (140pounds, 64kg), was appropriate for both genders, and my facial features were reasonably soft, not too strong and rugged. I don’t know where the idea came from but I thought that with a bit of make up I could make myself acceptably presentable as a woman.

Once in the kitchen instead of just making myself a sandwich as I had intended, I made up some short pastry, peeled and chopped up some Bramley apples that I had picked from my trees in the garden earlier, added a handful of sultanas and some cinnamon and was soon taking a fresh apple pie out of the oven, a large portion of which topped by double cream served as my lunch, the rest was left to cool before going into the freezer.

Refreshed, physically and mentally by my time in the kitchen I returned to the study to carry on with my book. As I was revising the later chapters some events led me to go back to the earlier ones to fill in even more descriptive details and I was getting a lot happier with what I was producing.

After completing my day’s work I sat and relaxed with a coffee and considered whether to treat my skirt and other clothes as a working uniform to be changed out of at the end of the day or whether just to stay as I was. Since I was in quite a relaxed mood, I decided there was no point in changing back. The large supermarket on the town outskirts had 24hr opening, so late evening when I expected it to be relatively empty, I found a coat and bag amongst mother’s remaining clothes and went out to get a few things I needed.

There were odds and ends of groceries, but my main reason was to get myself some more items for my female wardrobe. My mother’s stuff was mostly acceptable but it somehow didn’t feel right and I wanted to get some things of my own. I ended up with two more skirts, some leggings, a few tops , bras panties and tights, two sleep-sets, a pair of black court shoes, makeup moisturisers and cologne, hair combs and accessories. It all cost a lot more than I expected but if Cathal was to take a temporary back seat and Cathy was to be around for a while until the book was finished, it would all get used.

The shop was almost empty and the girl on the checkout was near the end of her shift, looking bored, so didn’t really pay much attention to me, none of the usual chatty pleasantries, and I managed to get away without being read or remarked upon as a man in a skirt, but I was relieved to get back to the safety of home.

I quickly put all my stuff in the wardrobe and dresser or in the bathroom, changed into one of my new sleep sets and went back downstairs to make a hot chocolate as a bedtime drink, but as earlier, every time I went into the kitchen the memories of my happy times with Auntie Meg came flooding back.

I soon got into a routine of the daily life of a woman, hair, makeup, jumper and skirt, working all day as Cathy. It seemed to have the effect I wanted, not only did I revise and revamp the chapters I had previously written, but also added in a few more side stories in between to make the book much more interesting and captivating. I read it through again, tidied up a few typing or grammar errors and emailed a copy to Emma.

‘Hi Emma,

I took your advice and freshened up the story, please let me know what you think.

Best Wishes.
Cathal’

A few days later, dressed and made-up as Cathy I was just leaving the house and getting into my car to go to the shops when I heard a shouted ‘Hi, wait a minute.” and saw Emma walking up the drive towards me.

“Is Cathal in, I’ve been meaning to call him.”

I was in a state of shock, couldn’t manage to speak, and blushed deeply with embarrassment at being seen by her. Suddenly her eyes widened and she put her hands to her mouth in astonishment, suppressing a shriek.

“Wow, Is that you Cathal, I didn’t recognise you at first, let’s go back inside and have a talk about this?” she said as she took my arm and led me back into the house. “Take off your coat, sit down, put your bag down, relax and don’t worry. You are obviously in a state of shock, let me make you a coffee while you compose yourself.”

With my mind in turmoil as to how to deal with this, I meekly did as I had been told until she brought in the coffee to calm me down and smiled.

“I thought that you told me before that cross-dressing was all in your past and just a teenage discovering-yourself thing. I was never expecting to actually see you like this. You look amazing by the way, if I saw you in the street I would just pass you by without a second thought. What started you off again?”

“What must you think of me Emma, I am so embarrassed that you have seen me dressed like this, you hardly know me and then you discover me wearing a dress and makeup? I’ll go and get changed if it will make you feel more comfortable?”

“Don’t bother on my account, i’m more surprised and interested rather than shocked or disgusted, just stay as you are and we can have a girl-to-girl chat.”

“When I came to the book club I was taken by how you and the girls read the book in a different light to me, how you picked up more on the characters and personal interlinks rather that the crime mystery aspects. It made me think about how to alter my book to appeal to a wider audience, people like you and the girls. It grew from there to trying to get into the same mindset as you, and I felt that wearing a skirt would help in that, and I believe it has done, I think my book is a lot better for it.”

“Just leave the book for the moment, tell me more about how wearing a skirt to help you write led into you going the whole hog and looking as you do now, in a dress, heels, full makeup, even boobs too. Do you dress as a woman all the time now?”

“Wearing a skirt just brought back happy memories of my time with Auntie Meg, particularly when I am working in the kitchen, and to get me in the mood for writing I tidied up my study and made it a bit more of a feminine space. I started off just wearing some of my mother’s old stuff but since then I have been shopping, just at the supermarket, and bought a few things for myself. When I am working out in the garden I wear my trousers and shirts, but around the house I normally wear a dress or skirt now and am quite comfortable with that.”

“Other than going to the supermarket have you been out at all?”

“Not really, I have only been out when necessary. The first few times I was very nervous, expecting to be discovered, but now I have realised that I look acceptable and am a bit more relaxed.”

“Put you coat on and pick up your bag Cath…y, I can’t call you Cathal anymore, we’re going over to mine. I’ll get changed, I can’t have you looking better-dressed than I am, then you and I are going for a walk, you need to get out and face the world more.”

It didn’t take too long for her to get changed and freshen up. For the first time, I really noticed how, clothes makeup and hairstyle totally changed the character of a woman and saw a different side to Emma. I decided that if Cathy was going to be a part of my life, I still had an awful lot to learn.

Emma drove us to the local country park and we had a pleasant walk through the gardens and along the lake shore which helped to blow away my worries. Emma just put to one side any discussions about me dressing and we chatted about life in general, the girls in the book club, and people we met on the way, before going to a nearby pub for something to eat and drink.

“Right Cathy, you have been walking around for a couple of hours, saying hello to people on the way and passing the time of day, just accept that as far as anyone else is concerned you are a woman out for the day with a friend and treat it as the most normal thing in the world, let’s go in and enjoy the atmosphere.” she said to me as we went into the lounge.

“Hi Ladies what can I get you.” asked the barman with a smile.

“You go first Cathy, I haven’t decided yet.” she nudged me and cheekily winked, forcing me to open the conversation.

“Oh, a sauvignon spritzer please, and a chicken risotto with a focaccia side order. Have you made your mind up yet Emma?” I replied, thinking back to what Jacquie had on our last dinner date together.

“That sounds good, the same for me please.” Emma quickly made her choice.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it, not only do you look good, but you sound believable too.” she said as we sat at the table with our drinks. During the meal she asked me about Tara’s Lodge. “I never got around to asking Margaret, who is Tara that the house was named after, was that the name your Aunt used for you when you dressed as a girl?”

“It’s a long story. Auntie Meg was born into a landowning family in County Antrim, but the wider family owned land and property in County Meath near the Hill of Tara , reputedly the seat of the ancient High Kings of Ireland. Their house was at the entrance to one of the paths up to the hilltop and was known as The Lodge. When her family moved from Ireand to Southdale they renamed the house to remind them of their family roots. In fact Auntie Meg’s middle name was Tara, but she never really used it. We enjoyed our meal and drinks and as we got up to leave, the barman gave us a big smile.”I hope to see you ladies again, you make a pleasant change from most of my regulars,”

I started to make my way to the door, but Emma put her hand on my arm. “No rush Cathy, let’s visit the Ladies before we leave.”

“I’m all right at the moment, thanks, but you go if you need to.”

“Do as you are told, just come with me.” she almost dragged me through the door having a quick look round to make sure there was nobody else in there.

“A few things, never miss an opportunity to use the loo, and don’t forget to sit. After a meal you need to freshen your lipstick, and in case you have never noticed, us women tend to go to the loo in pairs so we can have a gossip without the men hearing. You still have a lot to learn.”

“Are you coming over for a chat,” I asked as we got out of the car at her house.

“Of course, with all the excitement of meeting you Cathy, I almost forgot why I came over to your house earlier. I can’t stay long, John is back home tonight and I want to get the house and meal ready, and get myself ready for him too.” she said with a mischievous grin on her face.

I brought out a plate of Blueberry Muffins and Shortbread Rounds that I had made earlier along with a pot of tea, bobbed down to put the tray on the table, brushed my skirt behind my legs and sat down for a chat.

“You know what Cathy, those were very feminine movements you made there, you are definitely sliding slowly into womanhood. Anyway, the reason I came over was to tell you that I have re-read your book and really enjoyed it, it is much better than the first draft and much more enjoyable to read, the characters really came to life and I could relate to them a lot better. I think that it is almost ready to go to the publishers, but I would like to make a suggestion. This Friday we have our book club meeting at Anne’s, why not bring along memory cards or USB drives with the book file on for the girls to read and we can review it a month later to see how it has been received.

“That sounds a good idea, I’m happy with that.”

“Just so I know and can warn people, will Cathal be coming to the meeting, or Cathy?”

“Definitely Cathal, nobody else is to know, please promise me that Emma.”

“I’m good with that, but I enjoyed today out with Cathy and would like to do it again, are you up for it?”

“I’m not too sure, for the moment let's just keep it within these four walls.”

On Friday, Emma looked disappointed when I arrived as Cathal but, true to her word, said nothing to the others about my alter ego. It was agreed that their next book of the month would be ‘Troublesome Times’ and I gave them all a copy in e-book format so they could read it in the same manner as if it was published on Kindle or Amazon, and offered to host the next meeting at ‘Tara’s Lodge’ to review it. I later regretted offering to host the following meeting and worried for the next few weeks waiting with bated breath for their comments.

A few days before the meeting I spent a lot of time in the kitchen preparing cakes and snacks, far too much really for just eight of us, but better to have too much rather than too little, and giving all the main rooms a good clean and polish.

“Are you all ready for tomorrow Cathy?” Emma called over to make sure that I was all prepared. “I’ve already had a lot of feedback from the girls and they all think it is a great read. A comment I have had from some of them is that if they didn’t know better they would swear that the book was written by a woman, the way the text flows and the characters are built up. Do you mind that?”

“ Not at all, I will take it as a compliment, I did rework it to appeal to you all a bit more.”

“Please don’t snap at me, but can I suggest that you host us all and lead the discussions as Cathy. I know that you are trying to keep Cathy a secret, but I honestly think that it would go down well with them all knowing where your inspiration and emotions came from.”

“I’m not too comfortable that, I don’t want to become a figure of ridicule or gossip.”

“I’ve known most of these girls for years, and I know too many of their secrets for them to betray yours. Trust me, I’m sure that they will accept and welcome you as Cathy. I’ve accepted you and I am certain they all will too.”

“OK but if there is any bother it is all down to you and that will be the end of our little cosy chats.”

“I’ll welcome them for you and explain the situation while you keep out of the way in the kitchen until I call you in.”

I hardly slept that night half-regretting what I had agreed to do, but Emma had been very determined and persuasive and I had given in eventually. I made an extra effort with my hair and makeup in the morning, put on a new bra and pantie set, fitted the enhancer inserts I had bought to give me a bit of a bust, wore my new floral midi shirt dress which flattered what figure I had, slipped into my wedge-heel sandals, a slightly understated outfit as I didn’t want to dress too over-the-top, and was ready to make my debut to the group as Cathy.

Emma arrived early to make sure that it was still alright and that I was happy to meet them dressed as a woman, then I went to the kitchen leaving her to meet and greet the others. I heard a lot of chatter but couldn’t make out what was being said, there was no shouting screaming or shrieking so things must have been going not too badly. Eventually Emma popped her head around the door, smiled, gave the thumbs up and said “You’re on Cathy get yourself out here and let me introduce you to the others.”

With my heart in my mouth I followed her through to the sitting room to be greeted by whoops and shrieks and was soon engulfed in a big group hug.

‘Wow you look amazing.”“I don’t believe it, you are gorgeous.”
“ You put us all to shame, we’ll have to make a bit more effort next time.”
“ Welcome to the club Cathy.”
“ Is that really you? you haven’t sent out out a twin sister have you?”

After all the initial excitement they all settled down and as I went back to the kitchen to get the drinks and snacks I felt 7 pairs of eyes boring into me, watching every move I made. After that we settled down to discuss ‘Troublesome Times’ which all of them said they thoroughly enjoyed. There were a few comments about some of the events and the reactions of the characters but they were mainly a matter of personal taste and opinion, overall it was a big success. My adopting the personality and feminine attitudes of Cathy had certainly done the trick.

Afterwards the conversation focussed back on me, on why I had adopted the role of Cathy, how I felt about dressing and looking as a woman, they were all genuinely interested no-one was critical or nasty. They made me promise that at future meetings I would attend as Cathy as they all felt comfortable having me there as one of the girls rather than standing out like a sore thumb as Cathal, thanked me for the delicious cakes and snacks and all slowly drifted off leaving Emma and me to face the calm after the storm and tidy up.

“You were great today Cathy, you just blended in with the rest of us, the girls were a bit worried that you would look a bit weird, a man in a dress, but when they saw you and heard you speak they were bowled over. Next time, after they have had time to think about it, they will just treat you exactly the same as each other, at the book club you will be just another one of the girls.”

“I’m a bit worried Emma, I started dressing just to get into the minds of my female characters, but it has become just an everyday event for me now. After today the book is finished, other than sending it in for publication, I now have no excuse to continue with Cathy.”

“You don’t need an excuse, if you are happy, just carry on with it. Between me and the other girls you have enough friends to get out and about and meet people, you don’t have to hide away in here anymore. i have another suggestion for you. You heard the comments that the book read as if it had been written by a woman. It might be better to list the author as ‘Catherine O’Neill’ or better still ‘Cathy O’Neill’. I tend to buy or borrow more books with female authors than male, and I’m sure most women do the same. That book will appeal to women more than men, so it might get better sales that way.”

For the next few weeks that is the way it continued, I was living completely as Cathy, meeting the girls at the book club or going out with them in-groups or individually, to the theatre, restaurants, day trips, shopping, just living normal life, except in skirts rather than trousers. My hair was growing, my application of makeup getting better and my appearance mannerisms and speech were blending in with those of my friends, to anyone not in the know I was just another woman they met.

Out by myself one day, strolling in the country park I stopped at the café by the lake for a rest and a drink. It was fairly busy and there were no spare tables. However I saw Jacquie my colleague from school was there by herself and went over to ask if I could share her table. We introduced ourselves and chatted away over our drinks , passing the time of day. I had worked closely with Jacquie at the school and had dated her a few times, but despite that there was not a flicker of recognition, another milestone passed.

After a bit of back and fro with edits, ‘Troublesome Times was published and on the bookshelves. It did not set the publishing world on fire but made steady sales which justified all my hard work brought in a regular income.and encouraged me to continue with my writing. I ensured that Emma and the girls all received personalised copies for their help reviewing it and promised to use them as a sounding board for all my future books.

My next novel ‘The Class Barrier’ was in many ways a sequel to the first, but was much more of a historical romance between Sarah, one of the daughters of the farm and Roland the son of the local Lord of the Manor, with a lot less emphasis on the turmoil of the times, but a lot more on the romantic ups and downs of their relationship and struggles for acceptability due to the wide differences in their social status. It was not unusual at the time for the aristocrats to have dalliances with peasant girls, but it was a strongly frowned upon for a serious relationship to develop, causing ructions in both of their families.

I soon gave up completely on any pretence to still live as a man as Cathy gradually became widely known and liked by all the other neighbours who had never met Cathal and were only on nodding terms with Auntie Meg, knowing nothing about our family life and history.

To be continued.

Although I was now working furiously on completing my second novel and already sketching out my third, I always managed to make the time to meet the girls at the book club. Due to the gossip about a successful author regularly attending, the numbers were increasing and we often had about a dozen attending leading to lively discussions. But it was all still done in a friendly manner even though there were different tastes to cater for. It was very rarely that everyone enjoyed the book being discussed, but one that did bring most people along with it was one of the lesser-known works by Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey. which was to be the subject of this month’s review.

Northanger Abbey follows the fortunes of Catherine Morland a young woman of a middle-class background who finds herself in the social whirl of the upper-class social season in Regency Bath in the early 1800s, leading to a seemingly doomed romance with someone well above her station in life, and the trials and tribulations that ensued. Like my novels it combined social attitudes of the times, romance, and a light playful humour and I found it totally compelling and readable, although it was obviously written from a female perspective, for women, by a woman.

“Right everyone, now we are all here let’s plough on.” led Liz who was hosting that month, “Who’s going to start? What about you Cathy, since you share the name with the Heroine?”

“Well.” I started, licking my lips in preparation, “I thoroughly enjoyed it, a young woman dreaming of a completely different life, with her head stuffed with wild notions from romantic novels that she read avidly. I know that a lot of the situations she found herself involved in are almost unbelievable in the morality of this day and age, Although most young women nowadays would justifiably find the restrictions and expectations imposed on their sex oppressive and objectionable. I felt that I could still relate to them. Set against the opulence and lavish styles of the upper classes in the period, the elegant clothes. and the precise formal manner of the way people discussed things, it it makes me wonder what it would have been like to live in those days, especially as a young woman. I was gripped by Austen’s knack of bringing the characters to life, chronicling Catherine’s thoughts and aspirations, at times I felt so close to her, understanding her emotions. It was a good choice for review this month.”

“That’s a good start, you can tell that you are an author, you have a way with words. Anyone else care to follow that?” Liz scanned the group for someone volunteering to take over over from me.

“I totally agree with Cathy, I could never hold my tongue if some of the comments made to Catherine were said to me. Thank god that those days are well and truly over, we are all lucky that we now have a lot more choice in how to live our lives and make our own way in the world.” Anne replied. “Who’s next.”

At the end of a long and lively discussion which focussed as much on the modern woman’s place in the world than it did on the story of Catherine Morland, we were winding up,when Emma broke into the conversations.

“While you have all been talking I have been thinking about what Cathy said at the beginning about wondering what it would have been like to live in those days. There was an article in the Sunday magazine recently about The Austen Festival in Bath in two months time, and I wondered if anyone would like to make up a group with me to go for the final weekend. I’ve spent the last few minutes looking it up online, getting a lot of information which I can forward on to anyone interested. It’s an immersive event, many people wear period costume, promenade and parade around the city, attend balls and soirees, enjoy special meals of the time and generally live the Regency and Georgian life in a fantasy weekend. I hadn’t noticed it before but Elizabeth, Elinor, Anne, Catherine, and myself all have the same names as Austen heroines, it’s an omen. Who’s game for it then?”

Unfortunately Jan, Moira, and Di couldn’t manage it because of their young children, but Marianne Jane and Lydia, again all named similarly to Austen characters, and new members of the club, decided to join the five of us to make up the party.

We decided that for the Austen Festival that we would become the characters matching our names: I would become Catherine Morland the romantic dreamer from ‘Northanger Abbey’; Emma as the precocious Emma Woodhouse from ‘Emma’; Elizabeth as the feisty Elizabeth Bennett from ‘Pride and Prejudice’; Anne as the independent and melancholic Anne Eliot from ‘Persuasion’; Marianne as the sensitive and idealistic Marianne Dashwood from ‘Sense and Sensibility’; Elinor as Marianne’s rational unemotional and sensible sister; Jane as the compassionate elder sister and confidante of Elizabeth Bennet; and Lydia as the impulsive and reckless youngest of the Bennet sisters.

For the next few weeks we all closely read the novels associated with our characters to learn as much as we could about their attitudes, manner and social graces of the times to try to immerse ourselves in their personalities. If the weekend was to be immersive as Emma had described it, we all wanted to become our alter egos as much as possible. This was a steep learning curve for all of us, bearing in mind the vast change in the role of women in society since then. It was especially difficult for me, after almost 30 years living as a man, adopting the emotional characteristics and sensibilities of a young Regency woman, with all the social restrictions and expectations that entailed, was a real challenge.

The other big challenge for me was the style of dress of the period which tended to have low necklines and a modest display of cleavage, which I obviously lacked. The silicone enhancers I had been using were perfectly acceptable and functional for my day-to-day appearance as a 21st century woman, but would not be good enough for Catherine Morland. After A long search of the web, I took the plunge and ordered a quality set of artificial breast forms, taking the opportunity to go up a cup size for even more effect.

When I received them a few days later, I carefully read the fitting instructions, waxed what few hairs I still had on my chest, applied the adhesive and fitted them in place, as they were going to have to stay at least until after The Austen Festival. I put on a new bra in the increased cup size and a scoop-necked top pulled down tightly over them and was amazed at how realistic the shape was and how my the breast forms pushed my own flesh into a natural-looking cleavage. It was a strange feeling at first, the extra weight on my chest, the tension in my skin, a slight change in my balance and more than anything the constant bounce and sway of the breasts, it was a totally different feeling to the firmly held in place enhancers I was now used to. By the time for our trip to Bath, I had become totally accustomed to my new breasts and did not consciously think of them at all. They had become just another part of me that I had learned to live with and I had got used to wearing more revealing tops without constantly checking how much I was displaying.

We had one more meeting of the book club before the trip to discuss our individual characters and how we were going to play the parts. Adjusting to our characters changed the tone of our meeting, we were all much more giggly and girlish, whispering confidences in archaic melodramatic chatter and much more formal with each other in our speech. If this was an indication of how it would be for the weekend, when we would all be in costume too, we were in for a whole new experience.

Fortunately, because we would be in our hired costumes all the time except when travelling to our hotel and later back home, our luggage was minimal, mainly just underwear, one change of clothes, and obviously all our beauty products and equipment. otherwise getting suitcases into the cars for a long weekend for eight of us would have been nigh on impossible. Our period dresses and accessories would be waiting for us at the hotel.

We were a bit annoyed when we arrived late Friday afternoon and found that instead of the twin rooms that we had booked, because the hotel was full for the festival we had been re-allocated double rooms. This was not a problem for the girls, but I was a bit unsure, even considering how much I felt like one of the girls at times, to be sharing a bed with one of them.

Emma quickly realised my predicament and jumped in. “Unless anyone has other preferences, I will share with Catherine, Jane with Lydia, Anne with Elizabeth, and Marianne with Elinor.” which got general agreement following which we went to our rooms to get freshened up and changed into our costumes.

“Cathy, if you don’t mind me saying, Regency women did not wear bras, so you cannot really use falsies. However have noticed with some of the clothes that you have been wearing lately that you appear to have somehow acquired breasts, do you think that you will be okay?”

“Thanks for keeping quiet about it, They are artificial but I think that they are very realistic and as you just said, I will not need to wear a bra. Do you think that the others have noticed too?”

“I’d be very surprised if they haven’t already noticed but have not mentioned it to save you embarrassment, However I know you better than them and we are sharing a room so there is no need to be coy. With the dresses you will be wearing, there will be no doubt, cleavages were very much the fashion of the time. we all look on you as one of the girls now anyway. Sharing the room you need to get into that mentality totally because we will be changing in front of each other for the duration. Get stripped and we will start getting into character. At the time most women did not wear panties or anything similar, but I am keeping mine on and insist that you do too, otherwise it’s a complete start from the skin out.”

I felt embarrassed being virtually naked in front of Emma, but she stripped off too without any hesitation, leaving me with little choice in the matter.

“You’re right, those breasts are pretty authentic, let’s get you dressed and see what they look like when we are finished. Let’s get half decent first, and put on the chemises and then I will introduce you to the delights of the corset. Hold still while I wrap you in the corset and tighten up the cords. This will do two things, tighten up your waist, as Regency women were a lot smaller there, but it will also push up and support your breasts.”

“Does it have to be so tight, I can hardly breath?”

“Don’t be a wimp, you can get your own back in a minute when you lace me in, just take short shallow breaths. That’s it, supported like and with your breathlessness, you even have the heaving of your breasts, it’s quite effective. Now do me please, don’t worry about over tightening keep going until I tell you to stop.”

“I can now understand why women were always swooning and fainting and strolling slowly, the corset makes breathing a lot more difficult, dressed in this corset you need to keep calm and do everything at a much slower pace.”

“You have chosen the delights of womanhood, although life is not nearly so difficult now as it was, then, we women still have to suffer for our vanity. All of the other girls will be wearing corsets too, waists were much narrower and more defined in Regency times.”

Next the two layers of petticoats to fill out your skirt, which will help make up for your lack of womanly hips and bottom, and then we shall see how your dress fits.”

I was soon dressed in a full-length, half sleeve dress with blue trimming gathered tightly under the bust-line and falling loosely to the floor, with a matching cap, and Emma in a very elaborate more formal multi-layered gown and bonnet, also in blue and white.

“Are your ready to face the world now? From now on you are Catherine Morland, Cathy and especially Cathal O’Neill no longer exist, let’s go and see how the other girls are getting on.”

Now dressed in character, we walked through the hotel getting admiring glances from both women and men on the way to the gardens. The looks from the women were taking in how we were dressed, but those from the men seemed to me to mainly focussed on my heaving bosom and were embarrassing me, however Emma seemed to be revelling in the attention. We were soon joined by the Bennett sisters, Anne, Marianne and Elinor, and made an elegant group as we promenaded in our costumes. Our only sops to modern life were our mobile phones and their cameras hidden in secret pockets in the dresses, which left us with an extensive photo collection of us in groups, as individuals, and as the Bennet and Dashwood family girls.

There were many others dressed in costume too, men in their top hats and tight breeches and tailcoats over linen dress shirts with lace cuffs and collars, riding boots and jackets, the woman in costumes very much like our own, all in all it made everything seem real. In fact rather than us looking unusual, it was the few people in modern costume that looked out of place.

As we were strolling through the city centre we were soon approached by two very striking men who tipped their hats at us and smiled.

“Good afternoon ladies, a lovely afternoon for taking the fresh air with a stroll in these magnificent surroundings is it not?” One of them remarked in the stilted formal speech pattern of the times, to which I replied in a similar manner.”

“Good afternoon gentlemen, it is indeed delightful. We have not been formally introduced, I am Catherine Morland, and my friends, Emma Woodhouse, Anne Eliot, Marianne and Elinor Dashwood, and the Bennet sisters, Elizabeth Jane and Lydia.” each of us giving a short formal bob as we were named, we were definitely getting into the spirit of our characters.

“I do beg your pardon ladies, we should have introduced ourselves first, most remiss of us. I humbly apologise” he quickly replied, both of them giving a formal short bow to us. “This is my friend Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I am delighted to say, particularly to you Miss Morland, if I may be so bold, that I am Henry Tilney, delighted to make your acquaintance. I trust you ladies will be attending the ball tomorrow evening, and look forward to meeting you again there. Good-day to you.”

As they left we all giggled at the formality of the conversation, and I turned around to see Henry looking over his shoulder back at me.

“You have an admirer there Catherine, Henry paid particular attention to you.” Anne was the first to comment in keeping with the personality of her character.

I blushed deeply before snapping back, “Don’t be silly, in the book Henry and I get married, he was just acting out the role. Anyway why pick on me, I noticed the brooding Mr Darcy casting his eyes over Elizabeth?” trying to play down any possibility of matchmaking.

“If you say so Catherine, we’ll find out tomorrow evening at the ball, will we not? I will be surprised if your dance card is not full.” Lydia giggled.

“You seem to forget Miss Morland that Mr Darcy and myself do not have a lot of time or respect for each other, despite my dear Mamma trying to push me in his direction with her eyes on his £10000 a year (*1) , unlike you instantly falling at the feet of MrTilney.” playfully added Elizabeth in the feisty manner of her namesake.

We returned to the hotel to freshen up before going down to have dinner and getting ready for an evening stroll around town, the formal period dinner was to be on Saturday so the other guests in the restaurant were a mixture of those in costume and those in modern dress, but we were getting a lot of attention and admiring glances. Unfortunately, due to the restrictions of the dress and in particular the tight-fitting corset, I only picked at the meal and did not appreciate it as much as it deserved.

In keeping with our characters, as we strolled around the city after dinner, we avoided the pubs and wine bars in town, genteel young ladies would not have been seen in such establishments and so we frequented the riverside coffee bars which were much more appropriate. There were many other people entering into the spirit of the event and there was a great deal of camaraderie and kinship with the people we met. The city centre was a buzz of Austen activity, readings, acted scenes from her stories, shops and stalls selling memorabilia. As promised it was a total immersion into Jane’s background and work, really offering an experience of the sense of living in Austen times.

At the end of an exciting and very enjoyable evening we all had an early night and retired to our rooms to get ready for bed.

“I’ll be glad to get out of this corset, it is so restricting that I only ate half my meal in the restaurant, please untie the cords Emma.” I almost pleaded with her.

“The girls and i have been talking and we have decided to keep the corsets on tonight, it will be a long day tomorrow and we think it will be more comfortable and less strain on our bodies if we do not let them reset to their usual shape overnight are you with us or not?”

“I can see that but can you at least slacken the cords a little, I don’t think that I will get a comfortable sleep like this.”

“Ok, but just a little, you need it more than the rest of us, particularly in your waist.”

Now a little more relaxed I managed to havea full nights sleep and woke up ready for a full day of the parade and promenade though the city and the ball in the evening. Before getting into my petticoats and dress again, Emma tightened up the laces once more.

“That seems to have worked and reshaped you a bit, the corset has been pulled tighter than yesterday and you haven’t complained yet, it has given you quite a shapely figure. It was a good idea to keep them on overnight.” Emma tried to be encouraging.

“That’s the only thing I will have any regrets about this weekend, after today I hope never to see a tight corset again.”

We all met for breakfast before making our way to The Victoria Park on Royal Crescent where the event parade was to start before making its way to the historic Roman Baths and the Abbey Grounds .We were amazed at how many people had made the effort to dress in period costume and were astonished to suddenly be faced with Mr Darcy and Mr Tilney who we had met the previous day in the hotel garden.

“Good morning Miss Morland, Ladies, may Mr Darcy and I have the pleasure of accompanying you all on this morning’s stroll through the city?”

“We would welcome your company kind sirs.” Elizabeth quickly replied casting her eye over her character’s brooding beau, Fitzwilliam Darcy, with a blush of admiration. On the walk through town the streets were crowded with onlookers, locals as well as tourists, and we must have ended up in lots of photo albums or on many facebook and instagram pages., particularly on those occasions when Henry and I, alongside Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, were walking arm in arm like our fictional personas.

After the formal parade *2, we, along with many others stayed in town, visiting the shops and cafés, and watching the street entertainments. We were escorted throughout by our new friends who we found were in real life were actually called Henry and William, like us they had adopted characters with names similar to their own rather than just dressing up in costume.

The day soon ended and we had to make our way back to the hotel to get freshened up and changed into our outfits for the ball. I was glad to get out of the costume, the several layers of underclothes that came with the outfit had been a bit much on a warm summer’s day. The other girls fussed with their hair to put it into ringlets as was the fashion, unfortunately mine was still not long enough to follow them, so Emma pinned in a hairpiece in a similar style for me. Makeup was minimal, a light foundation, a dash of blusher, a little mascara, and a pale lipstick in keeping with the style of the period, but letting us still show ourselves off to the best advantage.

When I stepped into my pale blue full skirted satin ballgown and pulled on the matching full-length gloves I felt like a princess and couldn’t believe the emotions going through me and how my life had changed in a few months. I was almost as giddy as the girls about my appearance.

The ball was in the style the regency period with a professional lead dancer calling the steps, in a similar manner to the caller at modern square dances. As was the fashion until relatively recently, the ladies stood or sat at one side of the hall until approached by one of the gentlemen to join them on the dance floor. The dances were the more formal demure Quadrille and Cotillion as well as the livelier foursome reels and country dances and all of us were never short of partners. In particular,Elizabeth and I were regularly called up by Fitzwilliam and Henry, although we insisted on them sharing their time with the others too. it was a unique experience that none of us would forget. Most of the dances, as was the custom at the time, did not allow much close physical contact merely holding hands , or an arm across the shoulder, but the evening finished with what was at the time the new, slightly scandalous waltz. Henry held me close and led me through the dance with close bodily contact finishing with a firm hug and a kiss on my lips, stirring emotions in me that I was unsure how to respond to. Luckily Elizabeth and Darcy were near us and quickly came over to break up the embrace.

We thanked our partners for their attention over the evening and went to join the other girls to chat about the events of the night, my embrace and kiss with Henry being the main topic of discussion.

After all the excitement of the Saturday events, Sunday was an opportunity to calm down, relax and enjoy the sights of the city and be like all the other tourists and visitors, albeit still wearing our period day-dresses.

The final event was a formal reception and dinner, another opportunity to wear our ball-gowns, and feel glamourous. Unfortunately, constrained by our corsets we could not do justice to the sumptuous and delicious meal with its many courses, but it was still a wonderful experience.

Monday morning it was back to modern reality, the Regency costumes and accessories were packed away for return to the hire shop, and we returned to our modern clothes. most of the other girls turned up for breakfast dressed casually in trousers or jeans and jumpers, but Elizabeth and I chose skirts and cotton blouses. Our choice of style was a good one, as we were joined at breakfast by Henry and William. As we got up to leave they shyly approached us.

“Cathy, Liz, we have really enjoyed your company this weekend as our fictional counterparts, we were wondering whether we can keep in touch and maybe meet up sometime?” For once it was William making the conversation now released from his character as the brooding silent Darcy.

Having said our goodbyes and exchanged phone numbers we left Bath to return to the realities of our day-to-day modern lives.

To be continued.

*1 £10,000 a year is variously estimated to be equivalent to between £800,000 and £8.000,000 in modern value, depending on the calculation method.

*2 For more information on The Austen Festival, follow the link below.

https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0308/7889/2172/files/JAF_F...

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After the heady delights of living as Catherine Morland in Regency Bath, I came down to earth and back to normality, or at least as normal as my life had now become.

The first meeting of the book club after our Austen weekend was mainly a review of the festival. Most of the time was taken up by looking at the photos we had all taken showing us in all our Regency finery, the girls that had been unable to go wanted all the details.

“How did you enjoy it Cathy, it must have been even stranger for you than the others, not only were you living a Regency life, but you were also experiencing the life of a woman at the time,” asked Moira “I’m sorry I couldn’t come with you all, you seem to have had an amazing time.”

“It was a full immersive experience for us all, but at times I really felt as if I was Catherine Morland. However I don’t think that I would’ve liked to live her life, the social attitudes and restrictions made me feel uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as the corset I had to wear.” which brought a lot of giggles from them all, particularly those that had suffered along with me.

As I was now writing full-time as Cathy O’Neill, I continued to play the part of a young sociable professional woman. My breast-forms were almost a permanent part of my body affecting the way I stood and moved. I was on a strict diet and fitness schedule to reduce my weight and tone my body, my hair was beginning to grow to a more feminine length, my nails were now longer and shaped, and I was following the same beauty regimes as all women my age. Moisturisers, face masks, waxing, manicures and makeup were all becoming just another part of my daily routine. It was getting to the stage where I couldn't remember the last time that I had worn any of my male clothes, even my casual items for around the house were now all female styles.

Neither could I really remember how and when I had graduated from wearing a skirt to get me in the mood for writing in a more emotional and descriptive style to living and acting totally as a woman, all I knew was that I was comfortable in the clothes and the lifestyle I was living. How I appeared and how I was reacting to things just became a way of life rather a forced practised act, to all intents and purposes, other than a few biological details I was now female, Cathy O’Neill, and was treated as such by the other girls in the book club.

Other than my regular visits to the book club and the occasional day or evening out with Emma or some of the other girls, I was working intensely on completing ‘The Class Barrier’ and it was soon ready for it to be reviewed by my editorial panel, the girls in the book club.

i had noticed that I was the only one at the club who always wore skirts or dresses, most of the girls wore trousers or leggings and jumpers or blouse tops and were much more casual. I thought that perhaps I was trying too hard and overcompensating to emphasis my femininity, and that I would fit in better with them if I toned it all down a bit. In the morning before the meeting, I gave Emma a call.

“Hi Emma are you free to come shopping with me for some casual and some more formal trousers as I really need a second opinion as to what sits right on me and makes allowances for my lack of female curvy hips and bottom. Obviously skin-tight pants or leggings would only show my lack of curves and remind people who I really am, or at least previously was.”

“Okay, Cathy, I see your predicament but we girls have all sorts of tricks up our sleeves to overcome what we see as our inadequacies. Let’s go shopping.”

We were soon browsing the shelves and racks in ‘Susannah’s Secrets’ the discreet lingerie shop in the mall.

“What we have here Cathy is what is known as shape wear which works like a corset to cinch your waist, a bit like the Regency corset you in used Bath, but not nearly as restrictive and uncomfortable. However as well as cinching the waist they also include padding to add a few inches to the hips bottom and thighs. Many teenage girls use something similar when they are still developing and don’t want to look different to their more mature classmates, and mature woman use them when they want to wear something slinky and figure-hugging.”

I left the shop wearing one of the padded briefs which along with the fact that I was now tucking my male parts between my legs and there were no obvious bulges in my front, all in all, I now had a much more feminine figure.

“That’s much better Cathy, you will now have a much wider choice of appropriate styles of trousers to pick from, let’s go shopping and see what we find for you.” Emma dragged me around the shops and I arrived home with four pairs of casual trousers and two more formal ones. I was surprised how strange it felt to be wearing trousers again after living in skirts for a few months.

After just over a year of living as Cathy, late one Friday afternoon my writing session was disturbed by the doorbell going. I was now so used to answering the door to the women from the book club, delivery couriers and other callers that I didn’t give it a second thought before going to see who it was. I was stunned and speechless to see Jacquie Marshall, my colleague from my teaching days, standing there.

“Hello, I’m Jacquie Marshall I used to work with Cathal O’Neill, I’ve been given this address for him, is he here.?” She asked smiling, with a total lack of recognition.

I was in two minds as to how to reply, but she had been a good friend to me, and was the only one at the school who had given me any support when I had to leave, I felt I couldn’t just send her away.

Taking a deep breath I replied “I think that you had better come in Jacquie, there is something I need to tell you about Cathal.”

She followed me into the kitchen and I told her to take a seat in the armchair by a small coffee table while I put the kettle on. I made a pot of tea, remembering that she preferred it to coffee, and put some slices of cake and biscuits on a plate, mainly to give me a bit of time to get my thoughts together. I had two options, tell her that Cathal had left, or be totally honest with her, finally deciding that she deserved to know the truth.

“What I am about to tell you may sound totally strange but please bear with me and stay calm. I know who you are Jacquie, and that’s because I am, or was, Cathal, I am now known as Catherine or Cathy by my friends.”

“Oh, my god, I thought that you looked a bit familiar, I assumed that you must be a close relative, I’m speechless, please just give me a minute to take it in.” She muttered through her confusion.

“As I said, I am now known as Cathy O’Neill, a novelist with two books published, a further one one ready to send off for proof reading and printing, with more in the pipeline, and I am living full time as the woman you see before you. If you are not too shocked or disgusted, I am happy to tell you how I ended up like this, but if you prefer to leave, I just ask that you forget all about me, and not spread gossip about how I am now living.”

Her eyes scanned me from top to bottom, or at least as far as she could see above the table top.

“I can’t believe it, you look and sound just like any other woman, this is not a wind-up is it Cathy?”

“No Jacquie, this is how I now live. Help yourself to tea and cake and I will tell you how and why my life has changed.” She sat open-mouthed and silent while I told her everything about inheriting the house, the neighbours and my involvement with the book club. As she stayed silent I continued with how I had started dressing in skirts to help me with the characterisation of the people in my book, and how it had grown from there and completely taken over my life. I did not go into the topic of the Austen weekend or my childhood in skirts with my Auntie Meg, that could wait until I knew how she was going to react.

“That’s an amazing story, I would never have guessed that you would turn out like that, we even went out a few times and you seemed just a normal bloke to me. If it’s not an offensive question, are you actually a woman now, or are you, what’s the term, in transition?”

“It is a rude question, but a fair one and not unexpected. No I am not in transition, I am still physically fully male, and before you ask, the breasts are not natural either.”

“All I can say is that you are so convincing and appear a lot more attractive and feminine than many women I know.”

“I don’t know if you remember but you have met me before, as Cathy, in the cafe in the park last summer and we had quite a long pleasant chat.”

“I knew I’d seen you somewhere before, I never realised that it was you, I just thought that you were someone pleasant to share a cup of tea and have a chat with.”

“Anyway Jacquie, let’s forget about my story for the moment, why are you here and how did you find me?”

“I’m no Miss Marple, finding you was easy. I knew your last address from the school records, and the people there had a forwarding address for your mail. Why I’m here is a bit more complicated, and now probably pointless. After you left, Gavin Galbraith was so arrogant and full of himself, bragging that he had got rid of one pain of a teacher and soon there would be more who would suffer. He went too far while being lectured by the headmaster about his unacceptable attitude, he lost his temper and lashed out throwing lots of punches. Mr Armitage needed to be taken to hospital with concussion and a nasty gash on his face from the punches and falling against the corner of his desk.”

“This may sound spiteful, but Armitage gets no sympathy from me, after the way he treated me. Perhaps he will now sympathise with what happened to me.” I interrupted her.

“The governors looked at the records of Galbraith’s past actions, including the incident with you, or I suppose I should say with Cathal, and after that he was expelled. No other school will take him so is now getting tuition at home, but that isn’t going very well either. The head was retired early and replaced with someone more interested in maintaining discipline rather than being over-tolerant and indulgent, and, would you believe, I was then appointed as her deputy. I really came here with an offer from the governors and Laura Marshall, the new head, to see if you wanted your job back. However as you seem to be fulfilling your dream of becoming an acknowledged author, I suppose that you are not interested.”

“Thank you for that Jacquie, and I believe that the offer is mainly down to you, but it won’t be necessary. For over a year now, I have been living completely as Cathy, and have been relatively successful as an author, I don’t want to go back to the stresses of the classroom, boring to death hormone-fired teenagers talking about things that they have no interest in.”

“Having listened to you that was what I was expecting you to say, but I thought that I would make the offer anyway.”

“Are you in a rush Jacquie,? We still have a lot of catching up to do, would you like to stay for dinner? I have a nice chicken casserole on the go in the slow-cooker and there is more than enough for both of us?”

“I would really like that, if you are sure. I’m certain that you still have a lot to tell me about what has happened over the last year and a half.”

We enjoyed our meal together, the tasty casserole along with two bottles of a delicious burgundy really relaxed us and we chatted away like the old friends that we were, catching up with each others lives.

“I love what you said about your time in Bath as Catherine Morland, I can just see you as the bubbly, slightly ditzy Catherine. It sounds like you all had a wonderful time, if you ever fancy doing that again, or something similar, count me in, it’s the sort of thing I would enjoy. Tell me more about your Austen beau Henry Tilney, did you ever hear from him again?”

“He has called a couple of times, suggesting that we meet up, but obviously there is no future in it and I don’t want to lead him on, so I kept it friendly and polite, but cooled down any intentions he might have had of getting together again.”

“That’s a shame he sounded quite nice. anyway I had better be going, it’s getting late, but we’ll have to keep in touch and meet up again, I’ve really enjoyed tonight.”

“Jacquie, you’ve had the best part of a bottle of wine, are you OK to drive home?”

She went to stand up to leave but she stumbled a bit, she was obviously not fit to drive.

“I don’t want you having an accident on the way home, you are welcome to stay the night if you wish.”

“ I’d love to, but I didn’t bring things with me for an overnight stay.”

“That’s not a problem, after living as Cathy for over a year, I have more than enough things for you to borrow, and there is plenty of cleanser, night cream and stuff like that in the bathroom, just help yourself to whatever you need. I’ll dig out something for you to sleep in and leave it in your room while you are in the bathroom, then I’ll tidy up down here before going to my bed.”

Lying in my bed my mind kept going over how the day and evening had turned out. I had been worried that Jacquie would reject the new me and leave in disgust, but it had turned out that she was quite comfortable being with me as Cathy and chatting away like we were old girlfriends.

I woke the next morning feeling an arm across my waist and a warm body spooned into my back. As gently as I could I untangled myself from her, left her in bed and went to get myself cleaned up and apply a light basic makeup for the day, when I returned to my room to get some clothes, Jacquie was already awake and looked me over from the top of my brushed-out hair, past my pert breasts sticking out through the light top of my strappy pyjama set, down my cleanly shaven legs to my painted toenails.

“Cathy you are unbelievable, looking at you standing there I just can’t see any trace of that you were once a man. I hope you don’t mind that I joined you in your bed, we had such a wonderful evening and I felt that I wanted the company to continue.”

“Don’t worry about it, but think on, what would you have felt if I had climbed into your bed?”

“Actually last night I would have welcomed it. Let’s get dressed and we’ll continue this over breakfast.”

It was a warm ‘Indian Summer’ morning so I just grabbed a light summer dress and some clean underwear and left to prepare breakfast while Jacquie got herself sorted out. When she came down I saw that she had been in my wardrobe and put on a loose gypsy skirt and top, which both looked a lot better on her than they had ever done on me.

“I hope you don’t mind, last night I was a bit the worse for wear after the wine and I just stripped off, threw my clothes on the floor, put on the nightie you left out for me, and climbed into bed, everything is a bit creased and wrinkled this morning. You have quite a selection n your wardrobe, it was hard to choose which to wear.”

“You’re fine, just bag up your stuff to deal with at home, you can keep that outfit if you want, it really suits you.”

“Sorry for climbing into your bed during the night, I’ve had a bit of rough time lately and just needed the warmth and comfort of another body.’

“Stop apologising, now what do you want for breakfast, there’s a pot of just-brewed coffee, a pot of tea, toast, fresh croissants, jam and marmalade, there’s cereal in the cupboard, or if you can face it you can have a fry-up if you would prefer that.”

“The tea with croissants and jam will be fine for the moment, maybe after that, I might feel like something else.” she eagerly helped herself.

“I’ve got nothing that I desperately need to do today, do you fancy a day out together somewhere?” I asked her warily, not wanting to seem too pushy.

“It’s a lovely day out there do you fancy a walk down by the river stopping off for lunch at one of the pubs with beer gardens, and then coming back through town where I can get some bits and pieces I need. If it’s ok with you, I would like to stay for the rest of the weekend.”

“Wonderful idea, I was going to suggest something similar, I would love you to stay for a while, only maybe we’ll not go so heavy on the wine tonight.”

There were a lot of people out and about but after a pleasant walk watching the motor cruisers zoom past and the canoeists scooting about in the white water swirls under the weir, we settled down for a lunch in a lovely beer garden of an old thatched-roof riverside pub.

This is really pleasant Jacquie, I know that I have now got lots of friends that I meet at the book club, but I don’t get out socially very often. It’s nice to be with someone that I have known for a long time, reminiscing about old times.”

On the way home, we stopped off in town, Jacquie need a few odds and ends, toiletries mainly and some clean underwear, I needed to get extra provisions for a decent evening meal.

Sitting with a glass of white wine after dinner of chicken chasseur followed by home-made apple crumble with double cream, we chatted away finding out a lot more about each other.

“I told you an awful lot about me and my life story last night Jacquie, tell me a bit more about yourself. How come you are still single, you are an intelligent, pleasant attractive young woman, I had thought that you would’ve been snapped up by now?”.

“It’s a bit like you, I have been so wrapped up in my career that I do not really get the time to socialise, and when I have started on a relationship, they always seem to fall apart before getting serious.”

She went silent for a while, sipping at the glass of wine, deep in thought, before continuing.

“You have been open with me about your life, I owe you the same. My lack of a long-term relationship is not helped by the fact that I am a bit sexually confused, I’ve had close friendships with a few men, Cathal included, and also with a few women too. I can never get to the point of committing to anyone as I feel that it is not fair on them as long as I don’t know where I want to go in life.” She paused waiting for a reaction from me.

“The one thing that I have learned over the past year or so is ‘Just be yourself’, if people are happy with who you are, that’s good, if they aren’t they are not the good friends that you thought they were.”, I quickly replied remembering words that had been said to me when I first went to the book club as Cathy.

Jacquie burst into tears, I went over to her, put my arms around her and hugged her until she was composed again. “Oh Cathy, thank you so much, you are the first person that I have ever talked to about my confused feelings, it is a big weight off my mind that I have at last shared my secret with someone.”

“Hey, who am I to judge anyone, my situation is a bit unconventional as well, we make a good couple together.”

She looked up at me, put her arms around me and gave me a long deep passionate kiss, I grabbed her hand and led her to my bedroom. We both quickly stripped off, letting our clothes drop to the floor, and fell into bed. That night we both released our pent-up confused emotions and later fell into deep contented sleeps.

I was up early the next morning, threw on some leggings and a light top , went down to the kitchen and soon returned with a tray of tea and toast, to find her propped up on her pillow wearing only a big smile.

“That was different, at times I felt I was with Cathy and at times I was with Cathal, and I was extremely happy and comfortable with both. You could very well be the answer to all my problems.”

“Like you I have been putting off getting close to anyone, but all that was forgotten last night. Let’s not get too excited though, caught up in the moment, but I would really love to see where we go after this.”

Most of the morning we stayed in bed, making love, talking about what we wanted to do with our lives, and we finally decided that Jacquie would move in with me for a while to see how it would work out.

Although it was likely to be a waste of money, she wanted to keep her flat as a bolt-hole in case things went pear-shaped for some reason. We drove over to her flat, collected all her clothes, valuables, and all the necessities of life, tidied and cleaned everything, locked up, returned to Tara’s Lodge, and got her settled in.

“I have a meeting of the book club on Friday over the road at Emma’s, and we will be reviewing my latest book ‘Changing Times’ based around the social changes at the end of the 19th century and the growth of the emancipation and suffragette movements. Why not come along and I will introduce you to my friends who went on the Austen weekend with me, they are a friendly bunch and you will be more than welcome. We usually meet mid-afternoon, so we won’t be very far into the discussions by the time you can leave school and get back here. I’ll put a copy of ‘Changing Times’ along with the previous ones ‘Troublesome Times’ and ‘The Class Barrier,’ on your tablet and you can read them and join in if you want.”

Jacquie was made really welcome, but although she was introduced s a good friend of mine, there were lot of knowing smiles from the girls. The review of ‘Changing Times’ went extremely well and it was agreed that I should send it off to the publishers for proof reading and printing. By then, after a glass or two of wine there were a lot of questions about the exact relationship between Jacquie and I, which we mostly fended off with knowing ‘Don’t ask and you will be told no lies’ smiles.

Life soon settled down with Jacquie now permanently moved in with me. Sometimes, especially at the book club, I would appear as Cathy, sometimes when we were out together I would be Cathal, it seemed to suit us both. However our settled quiet cosy life was interrupted by a call from my publisher, Jim Hathaway.

“I realise that you are mostly living as Cathal but I have had requests for Cathy to appear at book signings, including a lecture tour to talk to students at colleges and schools about the lifestyle in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. I know that you try to avoid personal appearances, but this could really improve your public profile. Think about it and let me know.”

“OK Jim, I’ll discuss it with my partner Jacquie and I’ll come back to you later.”

“What do you think Jacquie? It will mean me being Cathy full-time when I am away on the tour and for most of the venues it will mean overnight stays for a few days at a time. I am just getting used to being Cathal again.”

“Just go for it, I’ll be quite happy to stay here by myself, I have got my job as deputy head at school to keep me busy, and the girls in the book club, particularly Emma, are now my friends if I need someone to talk to. Appearing as Cathy is part of your job, it’s like wearing a uniform, I’m perfectly comfortable with it all, as long as Cathal is around too when you are at home.”

In the end I was away for a month and had slipped comfortably into all the mannerisms and attitudes of Cathy again. I had been worried about speaking to classes of students. Teenagers, particularly girls, can be very perceptive and would quickly pick up on any signals that were not quite right, but luckily my persona was never questioned. When I finally got back home after a long and tiring tour schedule I was glad to relax and be Cathal again. As Jim Hathaway had anticipated the sales of ‘Changing Times’ had soared and he was being pushed for the next in the series which I had already decided would be the changing roles of women during the First World War, when they stepped up to fill the previous occupations of their menfolk while they were away in France at the front.

At the next meeting of the book club, following my tour, I didn’t have much to contribute as I had been too busy to read their book of the month, but when they had finished the discussions and questions were all about my trip. As a parting shot I told them about what I had found about the various towns I had visited on the tour.

“When I was in Rochester in Kent, a lovely old town with lots of characterful buildings and streets, I heard about the annual ‘Dickens festival’ celebrating his later life in the town. It’s bit like the Austen Festival in Bath but not on such a grand scale. However it is tied in with the Christmas market when the streets are all festively decorated, market traders and shopkeepers all dressed in Victorian costumes, many townsfolk and visitors also in costume, a grand ball and celebration dinner. Those of you that went to Bath really enjoyed it, does anyone fancy a repeat, Jacquie and I are up for it, she’s looking forward to seeing me in a crinolined ball gown?”

The end

For more details of The Rochester Dickens Festival, follow the link below.
https://www.rochesterdickensfestival.org.uk/index.htm