Josie was not the ordinary twenty-something office worker despite appearing to be one.
For work, she wore boring black leggings, a black top and a hoodie.
With her short hair, she could easily pass as a young man, an effeminate man, but a man. Her almost total lack of breasts helped with that illusion. It was only the style of her hair, the small pearl drop earrings, and a small amount of makeup that told the world she was not just an effeminate male.
On evenings and weekends, things were very different. She only wore skirts and dresses. From micro to maxi, but never black. What made her stand out was her vast selection of wigs. All colours, styles and lengths. Her friends could never guess which one it would be when they invariably waited for her to arrive at least 15 minutes late for a night out.
None of them ever guessed that she was transgender. She’d transitioned before she came to town. She’d even had breast implants, but one had leaked after less than a month, and it had made her very, very ill, and then she had them removed, and ever since, she had relied on false ones for her evening and weekend trips. She was trying to save up enough money for another set, but as usual, money was tight. Working in an accounts department did not pay that much above a living wage, but it was better than nothing. She’d always been good with figures, and this seemed the ideal job for her until something better came along, but it beat the garment factory sweatshop that she’d worked in right after leaving home.
On this eventful evening, she was wearing a bright pink wig that came down to the middle of her back. Matt Black lips and pink-tipped false lashes were topped off with a pair of pink contact lenses. Her blue dress left very little to the imagination. It was clear to everyone that she was wearing very tiny knickers and only a strapless bra. Only her long, matching blue coat hid her privates from view, so thin was the material of the dress. She’d kept the coat on once she realised that her dress needed a lining to preserve her modesty.
Weekends were her time to express herself. Her three close friends just enjoyed being with this crazy chick who didn’t drink and could, therefore, be relied upon to drive them home safely.
The ‘gang’ had been to an open mic night at a pub in a nearby town. It had been a great evening, which was topped off by one of the four, Chloe, getting up on stage and failing miserably to get the audience laughing with her attempt at ‘standup’. Still, she had taken the boos in good spirits and had ended the session on stage with a bow. That had brought a few cheers from the audience.
When the evening was coming to an end, Josie went out to the car park, intending to get the car warmed up before their journey home. As she approached the car, some voices from behind her called out.
“Well… look at what we have here. The little tranny from the office.”
Josie stopped dead in her tracks before turning to face her accusers. She recognised one of them, Greg Thompson. He’d worked at the same company as her before being fired for lewd behaviour towards a woman customer about a month before.
Greg was with three of his mates. They’d been in the other bar of the pub, getting noisily drunk. Josie had seen this booze-fuelled bravado before, and it didn’t end well.
“What are we going to do with this fake woman?” shouted Greg.
“Give him a good kicking where it hurts!” suggested one of them.
“Don’t be silly. If he is a proper tranny that will have been cut off!” said another.
“Kick him in the kidneys. Without them, he can’t pee!” said another.
That threat made Josie scared.
“Nah. Just set fire to that stupid wig with him still wearing it,” said the fourth.
“Who’s got a lighter?” asked Greg.
“I have,” said one of them.
“Let’s do it,” said Greg, grinning from ear to ear.
Josie would have legged it if she thought that she stood a chance of escaping them, but that would just make them even more determined to hurt her badly. Besides, they were blocking her access to the pub. Any flight would mean going into the darkness, and she had no idea what lay outside the reach of the lights that lit the car park.
The four of them started to walk towards her. There was a definite menace in their body language. The copious amounts of booze that they'd consumed were giving them a lot of 'Dutch courage’.
Josie was hoping that someone would emerge from the pub, but it appeared that she was out of luck.
The threat of danger had sent her senses into overdrive. Suddenly, she caught a whiff of aftershave. Then a voice from behind her said quietly,
“Don’t look around. Stay where you are, Josie. Concentrate on them. Let me deal with them.”
Josie tensed and regretted not being allowed to take Judo lessons when she was a child.
The four potential assailants came closer. When they were less than ten metres away from Josie, the voice said, this time loudly.
“That’s far enough, Greg. If you come closer, then it will be you needing medical treatment.”
“Yeah!” shouted Greg.
“You and whose army?”
“Me and mine.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Josie saw three very well-built men and one much slighter man step out of the shadows and into the lights. Josie recognised them as being Rugby players from the local club. The company that she worked for was one of their sponsors. The team had visited her company at the start of the season in the hope of getting a few more people to come along to watch their matches.
Suddenly, the bravado of Greg and his mates went up in smoke. All four of them turned around and almost ran towards his tatty Ford Transit.
Josie breathed again before turning to face the four men.
“Thank you for that.”
“Don’t mention it, Josie. Those four losers are short of about half a brain. They could not see us because of the stupid amount of beer that they poured down their throat tonight,” said the smallest of the men.
“I’m just going to give the cops a tip-off about a drunk driver in a very unroadworthy transit. Hopefully, they have a patrol in the area.”
Josie’s face said that she was worried. The man held up his hand and made the call.
When he was done, he approached Josie.
“That’s done. I’m Charles Crowley, by the way. My friends call me Charlie.”
Once again, Josie had to remind herself to breathe again.
“This is Steve and Trev Henshaw, our prop forwards, and the hulk over there is Josh Miller, the No. 8 forward.”
“Thanks for doing that.”
“It is our pleasure, Josie. Are you here with someone?”
“I’m here with three friends. I came out to warm up the car. They should be out in a minute.”
Charlie didn’t wait.
“Trev, can you go inside and find her friends?”
“Sure thing, Charlie.”
Josie was surprised that there was no argument.
“Let me walk you to your car,” said Charlie.
“Thank you again.”
“As I said, it was no problem. Those jerks have all had more than a few encounters with us when they have downed a load of strong cider. Unsurprisingly, they have never come out on top.”
Josie walked with Charlie to her car. It wasn’t much to speak of, but it was all hers.
“This is mine, thanks again to you and your friends for their help.”
“As I said, it was nothing. Those jerks deserve to be taken down. If only they played Rugby. The twins would love nothing more than to come up against them in the scrum. They are bullies. Always have been. I should know, as I was a target for people like them at school.”
Josie got in the car and started the engine just as her friends arrived.
“Thanks again, and goodnight,” said Josie.
Charlie smiled at her before walking away.
During the drive home, the subject was ‘Josie was talking to a man!’. She just had to bite her lip as her friends chided her about this almost unique happening.
“You do know who that was, don’t you?” asked Cheryl from the back seat.
“He told me that his name was Charlie Crowley.”
“Yeah, and is also known as ‘the future Lord Crowley”. His family is loaded and owns at least half of the equity in our employer."
Josie felt herself go red in the face.
Mika, who was sitting next to Josie, said,
“Can’t you see that you are embarrassing the poor girl? She had no idea who he was.”
“And he has the choice of pretty well any woman in the country,” said Dawn from the back seat.
Josie was getting a bit fed up with the conversation, so she pulled up into the driveway of a large house and turned to her passengers.
“Shut it, all of you. He and his mates saved me from Greg effing Thompson and his cronies. That is the beginning, middle and end of it. As you say, if he is not married, engaged or involved with a bit of hot totty from the Polo Club, I’m about the last person someone like him would ever be seen dead with in public.”
After a deep breath, she added,
“Or you can walk home from here!”
The three passengers wisely shut up, but given the looks that they shared, it was clear that they were all certain that Josie fancied Charlie.
As far as Josie was concerned, from that moment onwards, Charles Crowley was very much ‘the forbidden fruit’. Even being seen with him in public could result in her desire for anonymity to disappear in a flash.
Their gossip machine went into overdrive the following Monday, right after a large bouquet arrived at the office for Josie. The card read,
“From Charlie and friends.”
A very red-faced Josie took the flowers and went back to her desk. The office gossip machine went into overdrive with speculation as to who ‘Charlie and friends’ were. Josie put on an air of ‘I don’t know who this Charlie is,’ but if someone wants some flowers, please, help yourself.
The first part of her excuse might have been a lie, but the second wasn’t because she didn’t possess a vase that could hold anything larger than a bunch of spring daffodils.
After two days, the gossip mill quietened down, and Josie hoped that it would be the end of it. No such luck.
On Thursday, she returned home from work to find a letter waiting for her. She knew by the envelope that it wasn't a bill or a summons… someone had once cloned the number plate of her car and was using it like a daemon at the other end of the country. Only the diligence of a young PC who checked the national ANPR records and found that her car was clocked on the A40 in Oxfordshire at the same time that the cloned car was racing through some red lights in Newcastle did the notices of intended prosecution stop.
The paper that the envelope was made from was thick and very expensive. The letter inside was on equally heavy paper and handwritten. There was also an embossed card. It was an invitation to a garden party in 10 days. The letter was from Charlie’s mother.
Josie read the letter twice. After the first reading, she knew that if she accepted the invitation, her desire to be anonymous in life would be at an end or at least in this part of the world. She had been there, done that with relationships in the past. They had always ended in disaster or heartache for her. There was nothing for it but to write a letter declining the invitation. A second reading allowed her to start to formulate a response.
She laboured long into the night, trying to compose a letter that declined the invitation in a polite and non-insulting way. It was nearly midnight when she finally came up with the right set of words. The letter was left on the kitchen table to be posted on her way to work in the morning.
Morning came, and one look at her bedside clock resulted in panic setting in. She was late… no, make that very late for work.
It wasn’t until a breathless Josie sat on the bus that would take her into the city in time for work that she remembered the letter. She’d had to run for the last bus of the morning that enabled her to get to work before the business day started. The letter was still on the kitchen table, where it would remain until the evening.
The first thing that Josie did when she got home that night was to pick up the letter and go back out and post it. A day of reflection had made her even more determined not to accept the invitation.
Josie put the invitation and everything to do with Charlie into deep freeze storage in her mind. More mundane things like getting her car through the MOT test and taxed, and then somehow finding the money for the insurance. Sitting at her kitchen table, she went through her finances for the third time. The facts were pretty stark. Outgoings for the next three months would far exceed the income. She was left with two choices. Pay for everything to do with her car on her one credit card or draw down from her breast implant funds. Being a conscientious sort of person, she hated using the card unless she could pay it all off at the end of the month. Buying a new exhaust system and two new tyres for the car would just about max out the card, and then she’d have to pay silly amounts of interest until it was paid off. No, she said to herself. The implants would have to wait… again.
Josie cried off going out with her friends the following weekend. Her excuse of not having the money was real enough. As it was not quite the end of the month when they'd all get paid, they accepted her reason for crying off. She spent the weekend at home making a new dress for the forthcoming company end-of-financial-year dance. This one would be fully lined, as she was determined not to make the same mistake with this one as with the blue one that she'd worn when she'd had the encounter with Greg and his friends. The skills that she’d learned after she’d left home and worked in a garment factory were, once again, saving money that she didn’t have.
She was so engrossed with her work that she failed to hear a knock on her front door. It was only when the caller rang the bell again that she noticed two things. The first was that she had a caller, and the second was that it was almost dark, and she'd been at it all day without a break.
With a sigh, she went and answered the door, all the time wondering who it could be to come calling at this time on a Sunday evening.
She opened the door and found Charles Crowley standing there holding a huge bunch of flowers.
“Charles? What are you doing here?”
“Er? Looking for you. Why else would I be here?”
“You had better come in. People will start talking if I have a strange man on my doorstep.”
She stepped aside and let him into her home. After a brief look around outside, she closed the door behind him.
“I’m sorry, the place is a bit of a mess. I was making some alterations to a dress, and I lost track of the time.”
“Josie, you don’t have to apologise. It is your home, and I turned up unannounced.”
“Thanks for being so understanding. So? Why the visit?”
“We received your letter about the garden party. It was my mother’s idea. All I did was say to her that I helped you out at the pub. She has this idea that her life’s mission is to pair me up with every female of childbearing age that I talk to.”
Josie didn’t know if she should cry or laugh.
“Charles…”
“Charlie, please.”
“Charlie, you just said the impossible. I can’t have children.”
“So?”
“I’m not a genetic female. I was born male and transitioned four years ago.”
“So? I like you because you are you and not some stuck-up wannabe who sees me as a way to riches.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I’d like to take you to dinner next Friday?”
His first words stunned Josie.
“Why? What will your mother say? I can’t be seen to be dating a Lord. Some people want to see me dead.”
“Who? Who would want to do that?”
“My entire family, for starters. Then, the woman whom I was supposed to marry and her family. Have you ever heard of Honour Killings? Well, they exist even in this country and in the twenty-twenties.”
This time, it was Charlie who was a bit shocked.
“I’m not kidding you. My parents are from Afghanistan, close to the Iranian border. Before WW2, it was part of the Persian Empire. After the Russians under Stalin invaded in 1946 and were defeated, Afghanistan, as we know it today, was created. People in the border areas were not happy, and that includes my family.”
“You don’t look like an Arab?”
“We aren’t. Iranians and many Afghans and Iraqis are not Arabs; we are Persians. My family just happened to be on the wrong side of the border when the maps were drawn up after the war and the end of the centuries-old threat of Russia trying to get a corridor to the Indian Ocean. That was what all the troubles in the ‘NorthWest Frontier’, were all about during the time that the British ruled that part of the world. My parents and theirs, before them, had a business that traded with Iran. Mostly agricultural products, but from time to time, a bit of Heroin as icing on the cake. When the Russians invaded in 1980, all that came to an end. My family fled to Iran, but because our sect of Islam was not the same as theirs, we were not granted asylum, so they came here in 1990. I was born in 1999. We went back to Afghanistan in 2004 when it was reasonably safe, and I was promised marriage to a young girl. I was supposed to go to Iran when I was eighteen to marry this girl. I ran away from home and got the help of a charity that deals with arranged marriages. I had to break free of what they had planned for my life.”
“And you got a new identity after that? I know about the process.”
“The downside was that it was a male identity, but my real reason for running away was that I knew that I was supposed to be a woman, so I started my transition. I reacted to some of the hormone blockers and went to the hospital with a very high temperature. They sorted me out, but some stupid charge nurse contacted my parents even though I was legally an adult. I had to go to the Hospital when I reacted to the hormones that I’d been prescribed. That nurse didn’t agree with anyone being LGBT. The last I heard, he had his licence revoked, as I wasn’t the first complaint that had been made against him.”
Josie sighed.
“The result is that my parents know that I’ve transitioned, but so far, they don’t know my identity, as the hospital incident happened before my new female identity was confirmed. My parents had declared me to be a ‘missing person’, so that’s how they found me that time. I don’t want that to happen again, and the moment my image appears on social media with you, they’ll find it and me. That’s why I dress up only at weekends. The wigs that I wear give me something to hide behind. In the week, I remain as quiet and invisible as possible.”
She took a deep breath and said,
“Now, do you know why I turned down your very kind invitation?”
“I do, and I’m sorry that it is like this.”
“Like what?”
Charlie leaned forward and tried to kiss Josie. She backed away.
Didn’t you hear a word that I just said? I’m ‘trouble’ with a capital ‘T’, and you are way out of my league. You could have pretty well any woman you liked to give you an heir. I can’t, so I can’t be seen to get involved with you. The threat from my family is real and one that I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.”
“I did hear every word, and to be honest, I don’t care. I like you… a lot.”
Josie shook her head.
“And when your mother finds out, one call to my boss, and I’m out of a job, and not long after that, I’m homeless.”
“I sort of guessed that. Very few people of your age make their own dresses these days.”
“And you are still here? Please, Charles, I’m not worth the trouble.”
With a definite purpose in her stride, she went to her front door and opened it.
“You can take those flowers with you. I don’t have anything to put them in.”
Charlie took the hint and left… with the flowers.
Josie sat down and cried. Once again, she'd pushed someone who wanted to be with her away. She had tried to put her background into the past, but every time someone tried to get close to her, her first reaction was to push them away and then run a mile.
Once she'd recovered enough to look at the time, it was past ten. It was far too late to get something to eat. Just enough time to clear away her dressmaking materials, take a shower and head off to bed.
She hung up the nearly completed dress and sighed. She feared that she’d never get a chance to wear it at the company event. Her rent was due at the end of the week, and there was less than a quarter of it in her bank. If she were to be ‘let go, ’ then in all likelihood, she’d be out on the streets in less than a month. All because of a man.
Josie went to bed thinking that she would probably get fired on Tuesday once Charlie had told his mother, who would arrange for her to lose her job. That was her slightly jaundiced view of how things worked. She’d seen others suffer that fate, and so far, the company that she worked for liked to bring down the axe on Tuesdays.
Josie went to work the following Tuesday morning, and as expected, she was called into her manager's office. Her manager was, in her opinion, a boot-licking, arse-licking, good-for-nothing weakling who did not have an ounce of people management skills in their body. Perfect for running a department!
“Hi John, you wanted to see me?” said Josie, trying her hardest to appear cheerful.
“Yes, Josie, please take a seat.”
She sat down and prepared herself for the worst.
“I have received a rather unusual request. Here, read this and let me know what you think.”
Josie wondered if reading your own notice of dismissal was a thing, but she took the sheet of paper that he was offering to her.
It wasn’t her dismissal notice, but it might as well have been.
The email came from Charles’ mother, Lady Crowley.
“I understand that you have an employee by the name of Josie Hayes. I would like to borrow her for at least a week. Crowley Estates will pay her salary for the period that she is away from the office.
Lady Elenora Crowley”
Josie handed the sheet back to her boss.
“This was forwarded to me by the Managing Director first thing this morning.”
Josie was still in the dark.
“Care to explain?”
“John, I have never met Lady Crowley, nor have I ever been to their estate. I have no idea why she wants me for a week.”
While that was perfectly true, Josie hoped that John didn’t press it further.
“Ok, I have my instructions. Clear your current work and hand everything over to Stella. Then, head out. Don’t forget to clock out.”
His last word signalled to Josie that she would not get paid for any work that she might do this week. Nevertheless, she did as he wanted. The office gossip machine would be running on overdrive with speculation that she had been fired for something.
Josie didn’t respond to any questions from those who worked near her in Accounts. She didn’t have any answers to give. The tone of his words suggested heavily that she would not be welcomed back. He would be only too happy to see the back of her because she had developed a habit of finding serious errors in the work of others in the department. Most people accepted her points gladly, but a few of his cronies had taken exception to her actions. It didn’t matter that her observations would save the company a few hundred thousand pounds; being the junior in the department, she should be seen and not heard.
The last time that she had pointed out an accounting error, her manager had claimed it as his own discovery and took the praise from the CFO. His glares told Josie not to say a word or else…
Josie cleared her desk, saying to her colleagues that she would be back in a week, but from their reaction, they didn’t believe a word. Neither did she. Her boss had made it clear that she was very replaceable.
Josie had to go home and get her car before heading off to the Crowley Estate. One look at the fuel gauge caused her to shake her head. It was nearly empty. Half a tank would have to go on her credit card in the hope that she would get paid at the end of the week.
It was almost lunchtime when Josie arrived at the entrance to the estate. Her stomach was empty. Her last meal was a cheese and onion sandwich, almost a day before.
[to be continued]
Getting to see her ladyship proved easier said than done. The estate manager took an immediate dislike to Josie. Thankfully, his boss was at her office desk when he called her. A few words from her to the manager were enough to let her pass.
Then at the 'big house', a maid/household servant said,
“Her Ladyship is not receiving visitors today. She is expecting an important visitor.”
“And what if I’m that visitor?” retorted Josie, hoping that it was true.
The servant looked Josie up and down before shaking her head. Then she tried to show Josie the door.
Josie shrugged her shoulders and was about to leave when a voice from upstairs said,
“Amy, is that Josie Hayes?”
Josie nodded.
“Yes, your grace.”
“Amy, show her into the library. I’ll be down in a minute.”
Josie resisted smirking but followed Amy into a ‘library’.
While she waited, Josie looked at some of the books on the shelves. Some were secured by chains, which she found rather strange. They were all in locked cabinets, which was also very strange. To her, a library was a place where you accessed books, not locked them away.
A voice from behind her said,
“Back in the seventeenth century, books were expensive, so they were locked up. Some of the texts that you see there are almost priceless. There is a first edition of Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels that is signed by the author. Next to it is an early copy of ‘The Canterbury Tales’.”
Josie turned to see a very pretty woman who was probably in her late fifties. She was dressed pretty simply in a cream-coloured linen suit and a turquoise blouse. Her blonde hair was unusually long for a woman of her age, but Josie knew in an instant that it suited her.
Josie smiled.
“I’m Elenora, by the way. None of this Lady stuff, ok? I’m sorry about Amy. She likes to think that it is her job to protect me from all strangers. She won’t bother you in future; you are on her list of people whom I want to see.”
“Pleased to meet you, Elenora. Thank you for that. I was a bit worried for a moment, the way that she looked me up and down.”
Elenora laughed.
“Amy likes to think that she can judge someone solely by the clothes that a person wears. Some of the biggest con men come in Saville Row Suits and driving Bentleys.”
Josie smiled at that. It seemed to her that the ‘lady’ of the house was quite down to earth. That was quite unlike those portrayed in TV series like Downton Abbey.
“Come, let’s sit by the window until lunch is ready.”
Josie followed her to a small table that was by a large window. Two chairs were positioned by the table such that they looked out onto the extensive grounds.
“I’m a bit baffled as to why you want me here unless it is to tell me to stay away from your son. Believe me, I told him to get lost last Sunday night, that I’m not interested,” said a puzzled but very cautious Josie.
“I know. He told me about his visit yesterday morning. Almost immediately, I knew that I wanted to meet the woman who told my son to sling his hook. That took guts, my dear. You don’t mind me calling you ‘dear’, do you?” asked Elenora.
“No… No, I don’t. But... If he told you all about me, then why am I here? It can’t be because I told him that I’m not interested in him.”
“Partially. As I said, very few women would have the guts to do that, but that isn’t the real reason. Your story interested me, so I did some very superficial digging. Your family background and everything. It rang a lot of bells. Not long after I was married, my husband and I were posted to the Embassy in Tehran. Not long after that, the Shah fell, so we have some idea about how life was then. It was scary for us to have hundreds of men outside our apartment shouting ‘Death to Infidels’. Once the hardliners took over and had stabilised the situation, we were declared persona non grata and left.”
“I was born here, and as I told your son, I ran away from my parents and family when I was about to be married to someone that I’d never really met, just to keep the honour of my family intact. How could I marry a woman when I was going against everything that the Imam taught us in Religious School, because my mind kept telling me that I should have been born a woman?”
“Charles told me about the threat of an honour killing. That is just horrible,” said Elenora.
“If it happens, then it happens. If they find me, they will come in numbers. Two families have had their honour besmirched. According to the Imam who taught me the Koran, I am a blasphemer and people like me are stoned to death. Yes, it is medieval, but the religion that was once the forerunner of scientific advances is regressing to the time of its founding.”
“That is a damming point of view,” remarked Elenora.
“It is, but look at what is going on in Afghanistan. Women are being denied almost all forms of education. That is regressing to the norms of the seventh or eighth century. I’d be stoned to death if I went to Afghanistan.”
Elenora smiled.
“From what my son told me, I got the impression that you were an intelligent woman. Now I know that you are that and more.”
Somewhere in the depths of the house, a bell tinkled.
Elenora stood up.
“It is time for lunch. It is a nice day, so I thought that we might eat on the terrace.”
Josie walked by her side out of the library through a sitting room and onto a large terrace at the back of the house. A table for two was set up under a shade.
“I hope that you like what we have. I wasn’t sure if you still followed your religion’s dietary rules, so we are having some poached salmon.”
“Thanks for that,” said Josie as she sat down.
“I gave all that up when I changed my name. I had some counselling, and it soon became clear to me that I’d have to distance myself from before as far as possible if I wanted to truly break free of my past.”
“I take it that you are from East London? Your accent is noticeable.”
Josie felt a little cornered, but her answer was delayed by the arrival of their lunch. Poached Salmon and a salad.
When they were alone again, Josie asked,
“How did you know?”
Elenora smiled.
“I’m originally from Deptford, born and bred. I met my late husband and Charles’s father when he and his mates from university had a reunion on one of those riverboats that serve you dinner on the trip down to Greenwich and then party on the way back. I was working as a waitress on the boat and was assigned to look after his table. One of his buddies was very rude to me, and he came looking for me to apologise. I, being a bit of a chancer, told him that he could take me to a Michelin-starred restaurant for lunch and then and only then would I consider accepting his apology.”
She grinned.
“As you can see, I did accept it, and like Charles, he knew that I was, as the police say, ‘a person of interest’. “
Her words did a lot to make Josie feel a lot more at ease.
Towards the end of the meal, Elenora asked,
“Have you ever thought about going and facing your parents?”
Her question momentarily stunned Josie.
“Never in a million years. Certainly not on my own. My father is a sort of elder in the Mosque. Not quite an Imam, but he leads the teaching of the Koran to the children. He has a position to uphold. I have no idea how he explained my sudden disappearance, but… I just don’t want to go there. I have three older brothers who would do anything my father tells them to do, almost without question, and that includes murdering me. They… In their mind, they would just be carrying out God's work because I caused the family to lose face in the community.”
“I think that is the right attitude to take at the moment.”
“Elenora, what do you mean by moment? I told Charles to get lost, and I am only here because I don’t want to get fired. I can just about get by month to month. Losing that job would probably lead to my becoming homeless. You have no idea how many companies all have nice PR statements about welcoming everyone regardless of sex or gender, but that all goes out the door when I tell them about myself.”
“You said that you had transitioned? Is that not the case?” asked Elenora.
Josie hesitated for a second before answering.
“I have lived as a woman for nearly four years and had one failed breast operation due to a leaky implant. Other than that, I take hormones to counter the testosterone, but down below, I’m still male, but it is next to useless.”
Then Josie wiped her lips with the perfect white napkin and stood up.
“Thank you for your time and the lunch, Elenora. I need to go home and start looking for another job.”
“Josie, please sit down. I do apologise for being so clumsy just now. I was hoping that we could talk frankly, woman to woman.”
“But, I’m not a woman. I’ll never be a real one.”
“Au contraire, Josie, you are a strong-willed woman who has a brain. Many women of your age could not make a decision even if it was going to save their lives. That is because of the mollycoddling that many parents give their sons and especially their daughters. You have overcome so much adversity. What you said goes a long way to explain why you told my son to get lost.”
Josie sat down and waited for Elenora to continue.
“Look, Josie, I’ll tell you no lies. I have grown to like you in the short time that you have been here. You remind me so much of a younger me. I think that you would be the perfect partner for Charles.”
“He told me that you’d try to marry me off to him. He wasn’t wrong.”
“He’s right, I’m afraid. That is just my mothering thing, wanting the best for my son. That said, I think that the two of you could be a great team, a team to take this estate forward.”
“A team that could not give you an heir?”
Elenora laughed.
“What I said earlier is right. You are a very sharp cookie. Charles is not my only child. His older brother is married and has two children.”
“So, Charles is not ‘Lord of the Manor’ in waiting?”
She shook her head.
“No, and I hope he never misled you into thinking that way?”
“He didn’t. It was one of my friends from the night at the pub who told me that he was Lord Crowley.”
“George, his brother, is a diplomat just like his father was. Currently, he and his family are in Japan, where they have been residing for over two years. With him out of the picture, it is only natural for people to assume that he’s the Lord. Charles plays it safe and does not deny or confirm it when people say that he is. He is very careful not to use the title himself.”
“He didn’t correct me when I accused him…”
“Josie, I made a deal with your boss to pay your wages for a week. As it is almost the middle of the week, how about we say that you work for me until a week on Friday. What I want you to do for me will take at least a couple of weeks. I’ll pay you each Friday in cash if that is ok with you. I get the feeling that money is tight, so some cash in hand would be very useful. Correct?”
“Yes, it would. What do you want me to do? I’m not exactly qualified for anything.”
“Your job is as an accounts clerk. Am I right?”
“Yes. I was always good with numbers.”
She smiled.
“Then… Charles’s business could do with some help. Their books are in a mess, and it is almost their year-end time. Just spend the week looking at how they run the shop, and let me know what you think on Friday. A fresh set of eyes and all that.”
“Shop? What sort of shop is it?”
“Sorry. I should have said workshop. The business is converting old Land Rovers and the like to run on Electric power. A company in Wales supplies the kits, and Charles, plus Stephen and Trevor Henshaw, do the work. They have a couple of part-timers who come in and run the spray booth. You met them at the Pub, didn’t you?”
“I remember them. But… I’d have to work with Charles?”
“Just tell him that you are working for me, and he’ll not interfere. They have been at it for a couple of years and have yet to make a profit, or that’s what I can ascertain from the mess that is their accounts.”
“But Elenora, I’m not qualified in business or accountancy?”
“You can understand profit and loss accounts, and you have some common sense, don’t you?”
“I do, but…”
“Charles won’t bite… Tell us over dinner on Friday what you think. Just be honest.”
Josie didn’t respond. Her gaze went towards the house and grounds. Places like this were the stuff of dreams. This life was not for her. The sound of a Peacock brought her back to reality.
“Ok, I’ll do it. Just for the week and a half.”
“Good,” said a smiling Elenora.
“I’ll show you where the shop is located on the estate map. Do you think that you can find your way there?”
She smiled.
“I can but try.”
“Why don’t we go into the Estate Office, and I’ll show you where it is on the map.”
Half an hour later, Josie pulled up at what she assumed was the ‘workshop’. To her uneducated eye, it looked little more than a cluster of old farm buildings. As soon as she stepped out of the car, she heard signs of machinery coming from behind a large set of double doors. Inset in one of them was a more normal-sized door.
After locking her car, she went to the small door and opened it. Inside was a workshop. She was in the right place. At first glance, she could not see anyone working, but the sounds led her towards the rear of the shop.
She breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw one of the Henshaw twins working some steel backwards and forwards through some sort of machine. He saw her out of the corner of his eye and stopped work.
“Charles is expecting you. He’s in the office.”
He pointed to a small room over to her right.
“Thanks… Steve?”
He smiled.
“I’m Trev. Steve is the ugly one who’s out delivering a car to the customer.”
Josie smiled at his joke. Then she saw a ‘T’ letter on his overalls.
"Hello, Josie," said Charles as she stuck her head around the door to the office. Two desks, a large drawing board and three filing cabinets occupied most of the floor space. Almost every inch of space was covered in piles of paper. Inwardly, she groaned. If this were their books, then there was little hope for her getting anything done.
“Sorry about the mess. Books and stuff are not high on my priority list,” said Charles.
That was, in Josie’s mind, the understatement of the year.
“Do you have a day-to-day ledger? You know, a place where you record all the income and expenditure as it happens?” asked Josie.
“Not really. We use that binder for orders, bills and delivery notes,” said Charlie, pointing to a large lever arch box folder that was full to bursting.
Josie shook her head. There was no way that she’d get this mess even half sorted out in the eight and a quarter days that she had left.
“Ok, let me make a start, and at the end of the day, I’ll let you know what I find.”
He smiled. His body language told her, ‘Good luck, you are going to need it.’
Just before 5 pm, Josie had done a first pass over the mess of papers. Instead of paper covering every surface, there were four large piles on the floor and an even larger one on the desk.
“How is it coming?” asked Charlie as the work day ended.
“Very slowly,” said Josie.
“These accounts are a shambles, and that is the polite version. This will not be a quick job.
At that moment, she wished that she were up in Burnley and working in the sweatshop sewing fast fashion clothes.
“That bad, eh?”
She shook her head.
“Worse. There are bills dating back over a year.”
“About that. We sort of got into only paying those that send us a final demand, apart from the company that supplies the conversion kits and a few other key suppliers.”
“Is that how you manage your cash flow?”
“It seems to work.”
“What about payment from customers? I’ve found a load of quotes but only a couple of signed contracts.”
“Most of them are on the computer.”
“Er? What computer?”
“Isn’t that here?”
“Look for yourself? What do you see?”
“It must be at home. I’ll bring it in tomorrow.”
Under her breath, Josie said, 'If you can find it'.
“There is a lot of work here. You can tell your mother that getting this place and the accounts straight is going to take more than five days. There are bills and invoices here dating from three years ago that have no record in the books.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
Josie smiled.
“From what I have seen, you are more interested in doing a good job. How long did you spend rubbing down that panel? You were working on it when I arrived, and here you are still doing something to it.”
“About three hours. Why?”
“Is the customer going to pay for that? Perfection does not come cheap, but if the customer is going to use the converted car for its proper purposes, why strive to get a perfect finish? If the end use is going to be a working vehicle, then don’t give it a perfect finish. If, on the other hand, it is going to be a Chelsea Tractor, and if the customer will pay for the grade 1 finish, then and only then do it. It is a matter of basic economics and giving the customer what they will pay for and only that.”
“Ouch!” muttered Charlie.
“Isn’t the purpose to make a profit as well as to keep some older vehicles on the road?”
He shook his head and then smiled.
“It is.”
“Then you need someone to run the office side of the place sooner rather than later.”
“I’m going home and taking a long bath. The dust in this place is awful,” said Josie as she picked up her bag and defiantly strode out of the office and workshop.
Charlie watched her go and admired her chutzpah. Most people would not talk to him like that.
The following morning, Josie returned to the workshop. She was surprised to find Elenora there with Charlie.
“Good morning, Josie. Last night, Charles told me what you said about the books, so I came to see for myself. I knew that it was bad, but not like this. I am not happy with the situation. Who knows how much VAT has not been paid, and no one likes the taxman swooping on a business. Then he showed me this!”
Elenora handed Josie a sheet of paper. It was a quote for a professional company to come in and do the same job that Josie was doing. Her eyes bulged when she saw the total price.
“That is a lot of money,” said Josie as she handed back the quote to Elenora.
“And my dear son concocted a whole story to get you here under false pretences. I’m sorry that I fell for it.”
Josie felt a lot of pressure lifted from her.
“The problem of the books remains. Josie, how about I pay you what this quote says, and you sort this place out once and for all? Part of this deal is to tell my dear son to get lost and that you are not going to fall for his tricks. While you are here, you are the boss. No new work will come in unless you give the go-ahead.”
Before Josie could answer, Elenora added,
“It would mean giving up that old job, but the vibe that you have been giving off leads me to think that it will not be a great loss?”
Josie just smiled. Elenora was a smart person and not one to get on the wrong side of.
Elenora turned to Charlie.
“Charles Crowley! If no one sorts these books out, then I'm going to pull the plug on that new paint shop that you want. Do you understand these conditions?”
“Yes, mother,” replied a red-faced Charlie.
Josie’s opinion of Elenora went up at least 10 notches.
“Well, Josie, how about it?”
“I’m going to have to think about this. I don’t like being led up the garden path.”
Josie turned to Charlie.
“As for you, Charles Crowley, I don’t like being lied to. If I do accept this offer, then one more trick and I’m gone… understand?”
“I do,” replied Charlie in a very subdued voice.
“Good. I’m going to think about this, and I’ll let you know, Elenora.”
Josie left them alone and returned to her car. She found that she was shaking, but she had to get away from the workshop.
Josie had calmed down a lot by the time she returned home. She could still have put a knee in Charlie’s private parts, but would stop short of throttling the life out of him.
Even doing the washing up and then the ironing failed to calm her down entirely. Charles Crowley was not her favourite person in the world that day.
One restless night later, Josie began to look at her options. She had no reason to believe that Lady Crowley would stiff her for her lost wages, so at least she could breathe a little bit while she looked for a new job. She’d know one way or the other about that on Friday. Cash in her pocket would go a long way towards making her want to stay.
Then, there was Elenora’s offer. For six or eight weeks of work, she could pocket more money than her current job would pay her in a year. From what she’d seen, most of the work would be little more than getting the business records in place before the end of the financial year. Josie knew she had to look out for herself. She’d trusted people before, and it had always ended in a total disaster. No more.
That night, she slept very well now that her mind was made up. She had a plan. Her fund for a new set of implants should come out of this with a considerable bonus.
[to be continued]
“I’m pleased that you have decided to accept my offer.” Said Elenora.
Josie was giving her the decision face-to-face. She preferred to work that way.
“I know that you could do with the money for your transition, but my offer was based solely on economics. I have to run this estate as a proper business. I know that my son’s enterprise can turn a decent profit if… if and only if he has someone to direct him and keep his spending under control. Are you prepared to be his boss while you sort it out?”
“I am, but will he accept me as the de facto leader, at least temporarily?”
“He will. He does not like it, but I did read him the riot act last night. That trick with the computer was the last straw. You have my permission to put your knee where it hurts if he tries anything with you. I want you to be my eyes and ears in the business. Is that agreeable?”
“That’s the only way I’ll go forward.”
“Good. Why not come for tea on Friday afternoon around three? That way, you can report to me in person about your progress. Deal?”
“I think that we have a deal, Elenora.”
Elenora stood up and offered Josie her hand to seal the deal.
“I’ll call Charles and give him the news. Just don’t accept any BS from him. If you need something and he can’t deliver it, call me. I… or rather, the estate provided the startup funds for his enterprise, and I have to protect the investment. Yes, Charles is my son, but the estate is a business first and last. I hope that you understand this?”
“Elenora, I understand perfectly. You are the custodian of the estate, and it has to be protected, preserved and expanded.”
Elenora chuckled.
“You sound like my Financial Adviser. He told me not to invest in the company. I want to prove him wrong, but Charles needs a firm hand to keep him from going off on other wild goose chases.”
“I can only try my best. Let’s see what I find amongst all that sea of paper.”
“About that. I’ve had it all moved to another office on the site. The new office was where the estate was run from until we had a new complex built about five years ago. You can work undisturbed while you get things into some sort of order. The computer is being moved and connected to the network as we speak.”
“You knew that I was going to accept?”
She smiled at Josie.
“I had to hope that my understanding of you would be right and plan accordingly. So far, it has been.”
As Josie was leaving the big house, Elenora said,
“Remember that I’m mostly always here, especially if my son gives you any jip. If I’m not around, my estate manager will know how to contact me.”
“Thanks for having confidence in me,” said Josie.
“You will be fine.”
Josie smiled and went on her way.
Charlie was waiting for Josie when she arrived at the workshop complex. His demeanour was one of submission. That told her that Elenora was correct when she had said that she had read him the riot act and left him with a choice of stop pissing around, or he could say goodbye to any future funding from the estate.
In some respects, Josie didn't entirely blame Charles. He was like many men, more concerned about doing the job properly than being bothered by the paperwork. She’d seen it with her Uncle Bishan. He’d put all his time, energy and money into a Fruit & Veg Wholesalers only to find that after two years of hard work, a multi-national discounter moved into his neighbourhood. He soon found that he could not compete on price and went bankrupt. The last time she’d met her uncle, he was driving a refuse collection lorry for the local council. The upside was that he was happy in his job for the first time in years.
Once she got down to work, Charlie seemed to keep his distance. It was usually one of the twins who kept her supplied with tea and coffee. They were not great ones for idle conversation, so she kept busy until lunchtime. The weather was sunny, and there was a place to sit outside in the warm and eat a sandwich for lunch.
On the third day, one of the twins, Trevor, came into her office with a mug of tea and asked,
“That night at the pub, you were wearing a wig, yet here you aren’t. Is there a reason for that?”
Josie chuckled.
“I use my wigs as a way of hiding in plain sight. Some people would love to find me and not say, ‘Hello, how are you?’”
“That bad, eh?”
“Worse. Family battles and a war of wills. I would not do what my parents wanted, which was to marry someone who is almost illiterate, can’t speak English, and… That’s enough for starters.”
“What language do they speak?”
“A Pashtun dialect that has a lot of Farsi in it or just Farsi when it comes to officialdom.”
“Do you speak it, or did you once?”
“I’ve not spoken a word of it since I left home, and I don’t want to go back.”
“Good for you.”
After a little hesitation, he said,
“Don’t tell Charlie this, but since he met you, he’s gone a little bonkers.”
Josie smiled before saying,
“What? Even more than he was before?”
“I like you, Josie. Too bad that I’m married," said Trevor before picking up the used wrappings from her lunch and going back into the workshop. What he didn’t say caused a little shiver to run down her back.
Josie smiled and sat in the sun for a few minutes. Then, it was time for her to get back to work.
The next morning, Josie looked at her collection of more than twenty wigs. Trevor’s words the previous day had caused her to think a bit more about how she appeared to the world. With a smile, she chose a long ginger wig for the day. She smiled as she brushed it out and thought, ‘Why not give the boys a talking point?’
She refrained from putting it on there and then. She had decided to do that as she drove onto the estate. She reasoned that none of the people who lived on the same block as her had seen her wearing one during the day. Going out for the evening wearing one was one thing, and wearing one for work was another.
Josie arrived for work with the wig in place. It was one of her favourites as it was made from real human hair. She’d picked it up cheaply when a hairdressing salon had closed down, when the owner retired.
The large double doors to the workshop were closed when she arrived, so Josie went into her temporary office and began work. She'd made good progress and had just about sorted out the accounts for the first year of operation of the business. Luckily, it appeared that all the bills for that period had been settled. She didn't have the same level of confidence in the subsequent years' finances.
Josie was busy entering invoices into the accounting system that she'd found on the company computer. It had been installed soon after they started trading, but had never been used. The system was very similar to one that she'd used before. It took her a day to get it all set up. She was working through the first quarter of the company's second year when Charlie came into the office with her morning coffee.
“Trev said that he’d mentioned the pink wig. If you don’t mind me asking, how many have you got?”
Josie grinned.
“More than twenty. Why do you ask?”
“Because long hair looks a lot better on you than the short style.”
Josie blushed a bit.
“Thank you.”
Then, she decided to end the encounter before it got out of control.
“Don’t you have a car to work on?”
He just smiled and left her alone. Josie had to get her mind focused on her afternoon meeting with Elenora. She was the boss, and her future was in her hands. As she drank her coffee, she reflected on the past few weeks. Grudgingly, she had to admit to herself that working at the estate was far better than being a statistic in a multinational corporation that employed over 100,000 people around the world.
Just before 3 pm that afternoon, Josie left the workshop complex and, armed with two large box files and a laptop, she headed to the 'Big House' for afternoon tea and her regular update session with Elenora. She had both good news and bad news to report.
During the short drive, she tried to work out which of the two she should broach first. The question was still in the air when she arrived at the imposing property. Every time she visited it, she felt that she was way, way out of her league, despite the kind words from Elenora about her humble background not being all that dissimilar from her own.
“Come in and sit down, Josie. I can see that you have come prepared to talk business. First, some tea?”
“Please. No one at the workshop knows how to make tea properly. The stuff that they serve up is so strong it hurts, and the apology for coffee is like dishwater.”
Elenora laughed.
“I know. That’s why I stick to my own coffee when I visit.”
As Elenora poured them cups of Darjeeling, Josie said,
“I have been tempted to bring my kettle from home.”
“Do it. You won’t regret it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Elenora.”
Elenora sat back and looked at Josie before saying.
“I take it that you have some bad news for me?”
“Some bad and some news. What do you want first?”
Elenora smiled.
“Why not start with the bad?”
“Ok.”
Josie opened the first of the folders.
“The failure of the company to register for VAT for almost two years of operation cost them around twenty-five thousand. That was the difference between making a loss and breaking even. Charlie told me that adding VAT to their costings would have scared off their early customers.”
Elenora smiled.
“Thank you for confirming that. Our accountant thought that might be the case, but was unable to prove it from the data that Charles gave them.”
Josie visibly relaxed.
“The good news is that two years ago, they made a profit. A small one, but after all costs and everything, they returned a profit of just over sixteen and a half thousand. The offset of that is that they owe around three thousand pounds in unpaid VAT. If… and only if we are creative with the next return, we can overpay it and hope that HMRC will not press us for fines. We’d need to give the option about the return to the accountants. I don’t want to update the accountants until I have the full picture. After that year, the business expanded and got a lot more complicated and…”
“Will it take you more time to give me a complete picture?”
“Yes, Elenora. I have the last two years to sort out before I can package up everything for the accountants.”
“I have to say that I’m impressed by this. You are showing skills that I didn’t know that you had.”
“I didn’t mention it before, but I do have an A-level in Accountancy. My family wanted me to become one and look after all the Persian-owned small businesses in the area where I grew up, and make me spy on them and see how their business was going. I left home before my A-level results came out because he wanted me to spend the summer with all the family in Iran after going to Mecca. That meant that I was going to get married, so I left.”
“It all starts to make sense now,” said Elenora.
“Is there anything else to report?”
“I should have last year’s figures on the computer by the end of next week. Another two weeks, and I’ll be done.”
“It is good to know your progress. Perhaps it is time to think a bit about the longer term?”
Josie visibly tensed up. Elenora saw this and smiled.
“Relax, Josie. I’m very impressed by your work. I’ve discussed things with my Estate Manager. The result is that we'd like you to come and work for us permanently. Some of our tenant farmers are just as bad at bookkeeping as my son is. I'd like you to become their first port of call when they need to get their accounts in shape for their year-end and VAT returns. I've run the numbers, and if the estate pays you ''x," we'd save around "3x" in accountant fees. They'll have sign-off authority, but you’d be responsible for the numbers that we submit to them. From what I have seen, you are very thorough and careful.”
Elenora reached onto a table behind her and picked up an envelope.
“This is our formal offer. Please take the weekend to think it over. Just bear in mind that the position comes with a place to live.”
Josie was lost for words.
“Thank… thank you. I will think things over and let you know as soon as I make a decision.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
An uneasy silence came over the room. It was Elenora who broke it.
“I was a bit unsure when you came in today wearing a wig. Then I remembered what Charles had said about meeting you for the first time. I could never manage with hairpieces when I was your age, but I do like you with longer hair. Please keep on wearing them… if you want to, that is.”
Josie felt a lot easier.
“Thanks, Elenora. I never know how people will take it when you turn up wearing one.”
“Changing the subject a bit, as you will be here for at least a few more weeks, we… as in the estate, put on a summer barbecue for all the employees and tenants. We supply all the food, beer and entertainment and also lay on transport home for everyone so that they can have a drink if they want to. I’d like you to come along as my guest.”
“I don’t know… it is a bit sudden.”
“And you are wondering what you can wear?”
“That’s one of the issues.’
“Then… drink up your tea and follow me. I have something to show you.”
A puzzled Josie followed Elenora upstairs and into an unused bedroom. A clothes rack was the only thing in the room.
“These are a load of old summer dresses of mine. Please take a couple and see what you can do to make them a little more modern. Those that are left will be donated to one of the charity shops in town. If there is nothing that takes your fancy, then I will not be offended. Ok?”
“Thank you, Elenora.”
Elenora stood back and let Josie look at what was on offer. All of them were designer labels and had not been cheap to buy.
Josie selected one dress. A classic red and white flower pattern on a black background. She held it up against her chest and looked at her reflection in the wall-mounted mirror. With a sigh, she returned it to the rack and continued her search.
“What was wrong with that dress?” asked Elenora.
“Too much cleavage. It would be difficult to wear falsies with that one.”
Elenora sighed.
“Not having breasts is a big thing with you, isn’t it?”
“Sort of. My body has not responded to the hormones, or rather the level of them that I would need to take to grow my own. They made me very ill. Therefore, it is down to having inserts. Glue on breasts with this dress would be hard to hide.”
Elenora took the same dress off the rack and held it up in front of her.
“I can see what you mean.
Elenora put the dress back and pulled out a red and white polka dot dress.
“Try this one? It should fit you.”
Josie looked at it. The scoop neck solved the cleavage problem.
“I think that I can do something with this. The next issue will be shoes. I don’t have anything that goes with this dress.”
“Yeah. That was why I only wore it once.”
Josie looked at the dress again. Slowly, a smile spread over her face.
“I remember seeing some red heels in my size in one of the charity shops in Oxford the last time I was there. I’ll go in tomorrow and see if they are still there.”
“Why don’t you take two of these other dresses with you? Perhaps they’ll do an exchange?”
Josie looked at Elenora in surprise.
“You’d do that for me?”
“My dear… You could do with a fairy godmother to help you over your troubles. I might not be a fairy, but showing a little kindness never goes amiss, does it? As I said, they are going to charity anyway, so why not try a little bartering?”
“Thank you very much, Elenora.”
“No, Josie. You are doing a great job and one that should have been done years ago.”
“Thanks.”
She selected two dresses from the rack. The designer labels alone should allow the charity shop to charge a lot more than the cost of the heels.
Josie went home happy. Her smile grew even wider when she read the job offer.
The next day, Josie took the bus into Oxford City centre. It was only when she was standing at the bus stop that she realised that she was wearing her ginger wig. With a smile and a shrug of her shoulders, she resisted going home and removing it. As the bus made its slow stop/start journey into the city, she decided that it was probably time to drop the androgynous look once and for all. The job offer presented her with a new chance to begin a life where she could earn more than enough money to save up for some new implants and then finish her transition.
Josie held her breath in anticipation as she approached the charity shop. There, on a rack in the shop, was the pair of shoes that she was after. She hoped for two things when she went into the shop. The first was that the shoes fitted her, and the second was that the shop would take the two dresses in exchange for the shoes.
Ten minutes a beaming Josie walked out of the shop. In a cotton bag in her hand were the shoes. The shop manager had taken one look at the labels on the dresses and agreed to do a swap. She treated herself to a Cappuccino at a coffee shop before heading to the supermarket on her way home.
The remainder of the weekend was spent deciding what to do with the dress and considering the offer of a job from Elenora. The offer was more than generous in Josie’s eyes. She was worried that it was considerably more than she was worth.
Monday morning dawned grey and wet. Even the weather failed to dampen her spirits. Late the previous evening, she’d decided to accept Elenora's job offer. Having somewhere to live on the estate would save her from having to drive 22 miles each way every day, including a rush hour journey along the Oxford Ring Road. The variation in traffic had made her late more than once. She’d just worked late on those days to make up the hours, but it wasn’t an ideal solution. Moving closer to her job would solve that.
That move would probably mean that her few friends from her old place of work would have to get along without her being their designated driver for their nights out. They weren’t true friends, but they’d been a help to her when she’d moved to the city. Having a car had been useful for them all, plus they’d all chipped in for petrol on their nights out.
For a while, she had regrets about leaving them until she remembered what the people who helped her get a new identity told her many times, ‘Life moves on, and things change. Go with the flow. That last bit was what convinced her to move.
Josie gave Elenora the good news when she called in at the workshop just before lunchtime.
“Welcome aboard.”
“Elenora, there is one thing. I’d like to delay becoming permanent until I have finished this job. I signed up to do this job, and I want to get it all done before I want to even think about Besides, I am supposed to give three months’ notice at my current place, although I suspect that my old boss has forgotten I ever existed and has already replaced me with someone who does not question his bad decisions.”
She smiled.
“That’s good with me. It will give me time to get the builders and decorators in at the cottage. It has been standing empty for the last nine months, so it needs a good going over before it would be ready for you to move in.”
Josie visibly relaxed. Elenora smiled.
“Don’t worry so much, Josie, there are some people in this world who are on your side.”
“Thanks, Elenora, but some of the places I’ve lived in and worked at since I became Josie are the exact opposite. One place… well, it was bad.”
“Just keep up with the good work, and everything will be fine. The estate accountant sent me an email over the weekend. He likes the way you presented the figures. It makes the job of his people a lot easier. As I said, keep up the good work.”
“Thanks for the dresses,” said Josie, changing the subject.
“The charity shop was only too happy to exchange them for the shoes once they’d seen the labels.”
“I’m only too glad to help.”
Josie wrapped up the operation at the workshop after five weeks. She could have done it a bit sooner, but had wanted it to be right and able to withstand any HMRC investigation. It had taken her almost a week just to scan all the invoices and delivery notes into the system. And filing them in the right place in the accounts system. The last few days were spent drilling home the necessity of following the process she had documented with every order placed and, even more importantly, with any customer order they received.
Her closing words were,
“I’ve done this one time and one time only, and thanks to Elenora, it won’t appear in your accounts. From now on, I work for the estate, not this workshop; therefore, I will be charging commercial rates that will come out of the business P&L.”
Her warning might have seemed stern, but it had been approved by Elenora in a meeting that they'd had just held before Josie began to wrap up the work.
Back at her small flat, Josie was trying to put a quart into a pint pot with her possessions. Since moving to her current place, somehow, she’d acquired a lot of ‘stuff’. It wasn’t only clothes. She now had two sewing machines; both were bought second-hand. One of which needed some TLC. The pint pot was her small car. Then there was the matter of its MOT certificate about to expire, and despite saving most of the money she’d earned working at the estate, she was fearful about the cost of the repairs that she’d have to do to make it roadworthy for another year. Her estimate of the cost of two new tyres and a new exhaust was probably just the tip of the iceberg.
One whole weekend of sorting had left her with three piles of ‘stuff’. One for recycling, one for taking and one for ‘a second look’.
Then she was faced with finishing off her outfit for the estate BBQ and Fun Day. After a lot of careful thought, she decided to tone down her outfit so as not to become the star of the show. Showing up the lady of the manor, Elenora, at her event would not look good to the tenants.
That was a shame as she’d found a fantastic hat in the same charity shop where she’d exchanged the dresses for the shoes. It was the sort of thing that someone would wear to Ladies Day at Royal Ascot. It was made of a black mesh-like material with a brim at least 50cm in diameter. A white silk band tied in a bow finished it off perfectly. All she needed to do was to change the white ribbon to one of the same shade of pink as her dress, and she'd be all set to go… until she thought about upstaging the host of the event.
The hat was out. A length of white ribbon in her red hair would have to do instead.
Josie spent her evenings getting her place sorted out before leaving. Her landlord had already started showing the place to prospective tenants. He was also raising the rent by 30%. Josie quietly tipped these prospective renters off about that increase. They smiled and told the landlord that they would think about it.
She'd done that because he was holding her to her notice period despite being able to rent the place easily as long as he was sensible about the rent.
It was a bit of an anti-climax when she declared to Charlie that their books were now all squared up.
“When are you moving to the cottage? My mother said that the decorators moved out two days ago.”
“I’m aiming to move in over the weekend.”
He smiled.
“Don’t forget the event at the house on Saturday afternoon?”
Josie smiled.
“How can I forget? I had difficulty parking there yesterday when I had my wrap-up with her before I sent the last of the accounts to the accountants.”
At the mention of money, the smile disappeared from Charlie’s face.
“What’s the final damage? How much do we owe the VAT people?”
“Just under three and a half grand, I’m afraid.”
“I thought that it would be more than that?”
Josie smiled.
“According to your accountant, if you pay it with interest next month, no further action will be taken. He’s working on the final deal. Given the two almost new Range Rovers that arrived yesterday, the profits from their conversions should easily cover that as long as you are sensible with the finish, especially if you can sell those engines for a decent price.”
“I suppose so.”
Charles shook his head. He was starting to understand just how sharp a cookie Josie was.
“Cheer up. Now that your accounts are in shape and it is clear that you are making a profit, isn’t it time to get that new paint booth? Some of those old Land Rovers that the estate uses could do with a good paint job. They’d be perfect to try out the new booth.”
“True. It is time to think of the future and how we can take the business to the next level.”
Josie grinned.
“That was very much what your mother said yesterday. I’d give it six months before you do anything radical. You will need a full-time person to work on the bodywork.”
*Charlie laughed.
“I can see my mother’s ‘plan carefully’ is rubbing off on you, but how did you know about the bodywork?”
Josie grinned.
“I have watched a few TV shows about building custom cars in the USA. The companies involved in the best work had specialists who only deal with the bodywork and paint. If you invest in a paint booth, then you need to use it a lot just to get the capital back. That’s basic economics, but it might mean doing a deal with local repair shops just to increase the use of an expensive asset.”
“Yes, boss!”
They both laughed.
Josie cleared up the office that she’d been using for the past few weeks. Starting on Monday, she’d have an office at the much more modern estate HQ. Her new place of work, while adequate, was a lot smaller than the old place. Still, there was a coffee maker and a microwave in a small alcove next door and people to talk to. After a frosty reaction at first, Gordon, the Estate Manager, had seen for himself just how good she could be for the estate and had even apologised for his gruff reception on her first day.
For a moment, Josie was able to relax and begin to feel at home.
[to be continued]
Josie took the first of two carloads of possessions to her new home. Having an 'upstairs’ was a first for her. All her childhood had been in a top-floor but single-storey council flat in Limehouse.
There was just enough time to unpack the clothes that she was going to wear that afternoon, take a shower in a place where she didn’t have to feed the electric meter with at least £2.00 just to get enough hot water, do her hair and makeup before leaving for the ‘big house’.
That was when the trouble began. Her car would not start. After a load of cursing, she went back in the house, put on her boots and with her heels in a shopping bag, she started to walk the mile or so to the Fete.
She'd just reached halfway when a Land Rover came silently up the track behind her. It was only when she disturbed some sheep that she knew that it was there. Slightly startled, she turned around and immediately relaxed. Charles was driving it.
“Car problems?” he asked when he stopped next to her.
“Yeah, it would not start.”
“Jump in; I’ll take a look at it first thing in the morning.”
Josie was a little reluctant to accept his offer.
“I’m supposed to be moving the rest of my things in the morning.”
“Then I’ll take you there and get you moved before looking at your car. I’m sure that it won’t be a big thing, but doing it that way around won’t put pressure on you to get moved.”
“Ok, just don’t get too pissed. I hear that there are six barrels of beer on tap.”
“Ok, I get the message. Besides, I want to be sober when I ask the most beautiful woman there to dance.”
“This I’ll have to see,” said Josie.
“Errrr…. You silly.”
Josie felt herself go red in the face.
“I’m not that. That’s for sure. Besides, I don’t dance. Dancing was forbidden for our sect, as was singing. Even humming a tune was forbidden. If I were to be married, then there would only be the chanting of verses from the Koran at the reception. Even the Mullahs in Iran, at their worst, allowed women to dance on their own at receptions. Mixed dancing was out even amongst family members.”
Her words reminded him of her very different background from his. Things like this made him all the more pleased that she’d broken free of their restrictions.
“Then it is long past time to learn.”
Josie got into the Land Rover and said,
“Not today. I don’t want to look like a complete idiot in front of everyone. Besides, all their eyes will be on me today. Being the new girl in town, so to speak.”
“Ok. I get the message, but my dear mother might have other ideas.”
“Thanks for the warning. I just want the tenants that I’m going to be working with to see me in the flesh. That way, they won’t get a surprise when I call on them.”
“Josie… They already know who you are. Your picture is on the Estate WhatsApp group. Adam, the Estate Manager, put it up the day after you accepted the job offer. He does that for all staff.”
Charlie noticed that her grip on the door handle had tightened. He stopped the vehicle.
“What’s the matter?”
“If my family see it, then I’m done for.”
“As far as I know, the group is private. Only people who work for the estate can take part.”
Josie just looked straight ahead.
“It will be all right. Everyone here has your back.”
“I hope so.”
The afternoon was a very successful one for Josie despite half of her mind being on the WhatsApp group. She was introduced to all the tenants and their families. The half a cow that had been spit-roasted and most of the beer had been drunk by the proceedings started to wind down when Charlie tried once again to get Josie to dance with him.
“Sorry, Charles, I told you that I don’t dance and have never danced. There are plenty of women here who would love to dance with you.”
The look on his face told him that she was not going to move even one millimetre.
When he’d gone to find some more Dutch courage before asking someone else, Elenora came over to Josie.
“My dear, you seem to have got the art of telling my son to get lost down to a fine art,” said Elenora, smiling.
“Sorry, Elenora. I told him earlier that I don’t dance, but kudos to him for trying.”
“Good for you, girl. Perhaps… and this is nothing more than a suggestion, if you reconsider, just let me know that you want to learn to dance, and I’ll put you in touch with a very good teacher. After my late husband died, I took some lessons. They gave me a lot of confidence back.”
“Thanks, Elenora, and I will take it as a suggestion.”
“Good,” said Elenora.
“Because your car is dead, why don’t you stay the night here? I overheard Charles talking to Trevor about giving your car the once-over first thing in the morning.”
Josie thought for a few seconds.
"Thanks, Elenora. I haven't had the chance to unpack much at the moment, and that includes my kettle.
“That’s settled then. When everyone has left to go home, come into the house, and I’ll show you to your room.”
“Good morning, Mother, Josie,” said a cheerful Charlie as he came into the breakfast room the next morning. Josie tried to read his face but failed.
Both women were sitting quietly, nursing some tea or coffee. They’d talked until well after midnight. Charles poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down.
After a sigh, he said,
“Trev and I took a look at your car, Josie. I’m afraid that it is not good news. I got the engine going, but your battery is just about on its last legs. Two of the cells are almost dead, but that is not the real bad news.”
He took a sip from the cup.
“Once I had the engine running, we took it to the workshop and put it up on the ramp. There is no way the bodywork will pass the MOT test. There are a lot of rust holes in the floor.”
“I did notice that the carpet was getting wet when it rained.”
Charlie shook his head.
“That’s not all. The brake lines are almost rusted through. Honestly, it will cost far more than it is worth to repair. You have been lucky so far, but with those brakes about to fail, it is a death trap.”
Josie’s shoulders sank.
“But… I have the rest of my things to collect today. How will I get that done?”
“I’ll take you home, and we can get them together,” said Charles.
“I’m going to need some transport to get around the estate. I can’t afford another car at the moment,” said Josie.
“As you are now an employee of the estate, you can use one of our pool vehicles. That Land Rover I was driving yesterday is one of them,” said Charles.
“Really? Won’t it be like a company car? They are taxed as a benefit in kind…”
“Not if it is available for everyone to use at any time, a sort of pool car,” said Elenora.
Josie got up and left the room. Charles was about to go after her, but Elenora stopped him.
“I’ll go and comfort her. She’s not used to people caring about her.”
“What shall I do with her car?”
“Empty it of personal things and send it to the scrapper. We’ll deal with the V5 later. Then, please be on the lookout for a suitable runabout for her, but it must be her choice. Got it?”
“Yes, mum. I get it.”
“Now get going. I’ll do the run with her to the old home.”
“Ok, I get it. Women’s things?” said Charles, seeing the look on his mother’s face.
“What do you think?”
“I think that is everything,” said Josie as the last box was loaded into Elenora’s Volvo SUV.
“There is one more job to do.”
“Hand over the keys?”
“Apart from that. Photograph everything, including inside the cupboards and appliances. Send them to the landlord. That way, he can’t suddenly find the place as dirty as hell and withhold your deposit.”
“I get you. I’ll go and do it now.”
Elenora waited for more than twenty minutes for Josie to take the photos.
"Let's get out of here," said Josie when she returned to the car. The landlord was hovering around, waiting for me to give him the keys. I made sure that he saw me taking photos. I even included him in one. I told him that I would be sending him copies of all of them and that I want the whole of my deposit back by return of post."
“Well done for doing that,” said Elenora.
“I got that bit of advice from the Citizens Advice when my last but one landlord tried to stiff me out of my whole deposit.”
“A good lesson learned, though. I have to hope that this is your last move for a long time.”
“Thank you for everything, Elenora.”
She laughed.
“I’ve done very little that wasn’t just common sense.”
Josie settled into her new home but was still on edge when out and about on the estate. Dozens of photos of her at the event had been posted on the internet.
That unease was compounded when one of the gossip rags that thrive on suggestion and innuendo rather than facts picked up on her sudden appearance at the estate. They ran a front-page article entitled, ‘The future lady Crowley?’. Right there, front and centre, was Josie talking to Elenora at the event. From the quality of the image, she guessed that it had been copied from a post on social media.
The article had almost gone unnoticed until Elenora saw the rag on the rack at a supermarket in Oxford when she was filling up her car with fuel. A slightly shocked and very
annoyed Elenora bought a copy of the gossip column as she paid for the fuel. She glanced at the article, and a feeling of doom fell over her. Josie’s picture was there for her family to see. Her best intentions of providing a safe space for Josie had failed… miserably.
That evening, she discussed the article with her son, Charles.
“We have to tell Josie. From what she has said, the threat from her family is real,” said Elenora.
“Only if they see the photos and realise that it is their missing child.”
“We can’t afford to take the risk. When I returned here earlier, I called Tamsin. She’ll be here in a few days. She jumped at the chance to get out of Brum; her last relationship went up in flames when she asked about them moving in together. Her words included ‘disappeared at the speed of light. Her job will be to be Josie’s bodyguard until… well, until it is no longer needed.”
Charles knew what that meant.
“Just when we were getting used to having her around,” he complained.
“True. She is a genuine asset to the estate. Perhaps this threat will come to nothing, but we can’t take any chances.”
Charles smiled, and after a sigh, he said,
“I’ll go and tell her. What do I say about Tamsin?”
“Just say that help is at hand and that I’ll be escorting her for a few days while she visits the tenants.”
“Can you fit that into your schedule?”
“I will have to. We can’t risk having her kidnapped and subject to whatever punishment her family wants to give her.”
All this was said without Josie’s knowledge.
“Let me talk to Josie,” said Elenora.
“Woman to woman.”
Charles didn’t argue.
Elenora found Josie at a farm on the far western side of the estate. She was just wrapping up a visit when her boss arrived.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” said Josie.
“This is not a social call. We need to go somewhere to talk.”
Josie knew from the tone of Elenora’s voice that whatever she wanted to talk about was serious.
“I was going to stop for some lunch near the river. There is a spot by the bridge to pull off.”
Elenora smiled. Josie was a quick learner. She knew the place. The parking spot was used by people fishing for trout in the river.
“I know exactly what you mean. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”
Some 40 minutes later, Josie joined Elenora at a picnic bench on the riverbank.
“I take it that you have some bad news for me?”
“You are a very observant woman, Josie. Yes, I have some bad news for you.”
Without waiting for Josie to react, Elenora showed her the magazine article.
The colour visibly drained from Josie’s face as she read the magazine. When she finished it, Josie shook her head.
“Just when I was getting to know everyone.”
“And you still will keep on getting to know my tenants. I have called in some help.”
“Help?”
“Yes, Josie, help. An old friend called Tamsin. She is … she was on the verge of going to the 2016 Olympics until she ruptured her Achilles tendon three weeks before the opening ceremony. She is … was a Taekwondo player.”
“How can she help me now?”
“She can be your bodyguard until we get a proper solution to your problem.”
“There is no ‘proper solution’ as you put it, while I am still alive.”
“Don’t be so downhearted, Josie. As I have said before, you are not alone now.”
“When they see my photo in that rag, they’ll come in force. One person won’t stop them when the honour of the family is at stake.”
The way that Josie said that hammered it home to Elenora that the threat was real.
Elenora decided to take the bit between her teeth and go to East London. She wasn’t alone but had engaged the services of an interpreter who could speak fluent Farsi and passable Pashtun.
Her mission took her four days. It wasn’t until all the men headed for the Mosque and Friday Prayers that she had the opportunity to speak, woman to woman, to Josie’s mother. To her astonishment, none of the events at the house had been communicated to her or her daughter. It took the mother a while to understand that her missing son was living as a woman. When she accepted that, it was easy for her to see why it had been kept from her. Elenora and the interpreter had to promise never to tell a soul, but Josie’s mother had suspected that her son was gay. To find out that he was transgender was not that much of a leap.
Elenora was surprised that Josie’s mother didn’t condemn Josie to eternal damnation. After a little more questioning, she revealed that she had a cousin on her mother’s side who had fled Iran when the Shah fell because he was gay. It was real, but was never mentioned in the family again.
Elenora’s last question was,
“Is there anything that you want to say to your daughter?”
Her mother answered slowly and clearly in Farsi.
Once they were away from the meeting point, Elenora asked the interpreter what she’d said.
“She said, ‘May Allah guide your life choices.’”
Elenora had no idea what that meant.
“It may mean something to Josie,” she said before paying the interpreter for their services.
That evening, Josie received a visit from Elenora.
“Sorry to bother you on a Friday evening, but I have some news.”
“It is no bother. Please come in and take a seat. Can I offer you something to drink? I don’t have any alcohol, though.”
“I’m fine,” said Elenora.
“What sort of news can you have that involves a personal visit at this time on a Friday?”
Elenora smiled.
“Can’t I visit my favourite daughter without needing a reason?”
“Yes, of course, but you have been away for most of the week. I guess that it has something to do with your trip somewhere?”
Elenora smiled.
“It is. I went to see your mother and sister. It was when your father, brother and uncles all went to the Mosque for prayers.”
Josie visibly relaxed.
“You went to the flat in Limehouse?”
Elenora shook her head.
“She and another older woman went to the grocery store. I spoke to her at the back. No CCTV caught us.”
Josie shook her head.
“Did you wear a Hijab or a headscarf?”
“No. Why?”
“Your blonde hair would be a dead giveaway.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“It is too late now. The damage has been done.”
Josie managed a small smile. Then she asked,
“So, what did my mother say?”
“Neither your father nor your brothers told her about possibly finding you. All she knew was that they told her that they had a lead. When they returned, they said that it was a mistake, but your mother said that she didn’t believe them. It is a mother thing.”
“That sounds about right. Men do not show any weakness to women in our society… sorry, where my old family comes from. I was brought up to think that one day, we could return to our promised land in western Afghanistan. I knew that after my one visit, I would never return to a land where women are treated worse than animals and are often traded like them at markets.”
“Your mother told us about an uncle who lived in Iran who was gay and had to flee when the Mullahs took over.”
“I heard mutterings about him, but because it was against the word of god, it was never mentioned in open conversation.”
“Her last words to me were a message to you, ‘May Allah guide your life choices’.”
Josie sat still for a full minute before a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Sorry,” she said as she wiped it away.
“My dear, there is no reason to be sorry.”
When she’d stopped crying, Josie said to Elenora.
“She used to say that to me every day before I went to school. It means that she loves me no matter what happens. It was a sort of code that we had. To my father, it is just a phrase that tells me to pray for guidance. Between us, it was her saying, know your own mind and do what is right.”
“I wondered if there was some other reason for her words. She spoke them slowly and clearly so that my translator would not make a mistake.”
Elenora took the opportunity to change the subject.
“As your mother in the here and now, the offer of paying for your transition still applies even if you and Charles do not get it together, which seems more and more remote with each passing day. I know that you want to do it on your own, but I’m here to help.”
“I know that, Elenora. I’m still finding my feet in my new job. It would not look good to go missing so soon.”
“Rubbish. I’m the boss, and I have your back when it comes to your transition, and I will not have a bad word said against you over that.”
“I know, and thanks. Give it another couple of months for me to get to know where all the tenants are with their books, and we can talk again.”
Elenora smiled back at this woman who had more common sense in her body than almost anyone she had ever met.
[4 days later]
“Josie, this is Tamsin. As I told you, she is here to keep you safe.”
Josie looked at the newcomer.
“Josie, my family were from Tehran. They left the day that the Shah fell because my family are Christian, and despite what the mullahs said at the time, my parents decided to get out.”
Suddenly, a few visual clues that Josie had picked up made sense.
“It is nice to meet you, Tamsin.”
“Relax, Josie. Tamsin is not the enemy. Her grandfather was our driver when we were stationed in Tehran. Her family served the UK Embassy in Tehran for more than forty years.”
“Sorry, Tamsin, but you look just like… my friend from school, Amara. She went to Iran on her eighteenth birthday and never returned. We found out that she had been married to a sixty-year-old man with five wives and twenty children.”
Josie had to sit down. The memories were just too painful.
“She walked in front of a bus a week after her wedding.”
The silence in the room said more than a thousand words.
Tamsin moved into Josie’s house, and after some initial friction, Josie came to terms with a newcomer invading her space. After a week, it was as if they had been friends for years.
Mid-summer came and went. Charles and the twins were following Josie’s instructions to the letter, and the business was now making a healthy profit. Elenora made true her promise to invest in a new paint booth/oven for the workshop. While converting Land and Range Rovers was their core business, they were preparing to expand into another part of the complex and take on larger and more complex conversions. They’d also employed the son of one of the tenant farmers, who was a skilled fabricator who used to work at the BMW ‘Mini’ Plant in Oxford. Business was booming.
Josie had fought a few battles with some tenants, but all she did was point them to the workshop and say, out of chaos, order rules and a profit returns. They all knew that this strange woman had made a big difference to the business, so their resistance soon crumbled. With the help of the local representative of the Farmers Union, a few of the tenants were starting to diversify their business. With the return to School of the children, Josie ran out of excuses not to let Elenora help her with her transition. Her reluctance was purely down to the previous bad experience with a failed implant.
“About time, too, my dear Josie. You have whipped the tenants into shape. That alone is going to save them at least twice your salary in accountant fees. Plus, there will be less likelihood of an investigation by the tax people. More than a few have admitted to me that you are a lot less threatening to deal with than our accountants.”
“I’m a bit scared after last time.”
“That’s why several months ago, I went to see one of the top people in the country and explained the situation to him. He said that the feelings you are having are not that unusual.”
“So?”
“So, now that you are ready, I’ll make a call, and we can go and see him. I’ll be there at your side, and this is between us, understand?”
Elenora hoped that getting her breasts sorted would give her the confidence to move on to the next big step.
It didn't take a magician to see a lot of her younger self in Josie, and she would not be the person that she now was without the previous Lady of the house. It was now her turn to try to repay some of that faith in helping Josie become the woman that she clearly was. That had been evident within the first five minutes of being with her. She'd trusted her son's report on this weird woman with pink hair that he'd met outside the pub.
Once she’d had someone dig into her background, she immediately felt an affinity for Josie. The job at the workshop had needed doing for months, so she took a chance on it working. There wasn’t a lot to lose, so it was a risk worth taking. That risk had paid her back many, many times over.
The estate’s finances and, importantly, those of the tenants were in better shape than they’d been in decades, and that was largely down to Josie.
[to be continued]
Tamsin and Josie became a team mostly because of their being together 24/7. Even though Tamsin was Elenora’s niece, she wasn’t that close with her aunt. Tamsin was very much her own woman.
For her, just being out of Birmingham was payment enough. For some reason, her own strong will to not only survive but also prosper didn’t go down that well with the men in her life.
Tamsin saw a kindred spirit in Josie. Someone who had broken free from the life that had been expected of her. The women in Tamsin’s family had a long record of teenage pregnancies, bringing up one or more children on their own or having a sometimes violent partner. Her mother had wanted Tamsin to be able to defend herself and had somehow managed to scrape together the funds for Taekwondo lessons. Tamsin had thrived until her career-threatening injury.
With her being successful in the sport, Tamsin moved to be close to her coach and his training facilities in the Erdington area of Birmingham. For some reason, she continued living there even after her career-ending injury. She worked as an instructor with her former coach. All that time, she knew that she was just treading water. Returning to London would tell her family that she’d failed and it was time to settle down. That was not what Tamsin wanted to do.
The call from Elenora had been the chance she needed to start again, much like Josie.
While playing the role of Josie’s minder, she had a lot of time, virtually doing nothing. She didn’t waste that time and began working on broadening her education as well as getting paid for doing so.
She’d been with Josie for almost three months when Josie decided that they needed a day away from the estate.
“Where do you plan on going?” asked Tamsin.
“I’d like to go to the sea. I was never able to do it when I was growing up. It wasn’t a thing with us. For my family, other than going back to Iran or Afghanistan, the only other place we’d go was to Mecca for the Hajj.”
“Did you go to Mecca?” asked Tamsin.
“No. I was supposed to go the summer that I finished school and then onto Iran to get married, but I had other ideas.”
“Well, I, for one, am glad that you are here right now.”
“Let’s go on Saturday? We can go to Oxford and take the train to Bournemouth?”
Tamsin shook her head.
“Don’t forget that there is a reception for the Rugby Club at the house on Saturday Evening.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten about that. We can go the following week.”
“The next question is… what are we going to wear? I hear that it is a pretty formal event. DJs for the men. Dresses for the women.”
“Then we should hit the charity shops in Oxford that morning.”
Tamsin smiled back at Josie.
“Could I borrow one of your wigs? The green one, perhaps?”
Josie laughed.
“When was the last time you had long hair?”
“Me? Never, but I am trying to grow it, she replied, grinning and stroking her fairly short hair.
Josie had been trying to grow hers, but it seemed to have gone to sleep when it came to growth.
“Then you can start by wearing a different one for the rest of the week.”
“Ok, you’re the boss.”
[Late Saturday afternoon]
Their shopping trip had been successful, and both of them had something suitable to wear. All that remained was to get ready. For Tamsin, this was a new experience. She was not someone who normally wore makeup or had polished nails. That reluctance had been the cause of her most recent breakup. Somehow, she found it hard to say no to Josie.
Back at home, a still reluctant Tamsin let Josie give her a makeover. Wearing makeup was not her thing, but she sat still and let Josie work her magic. That included applying some short false lashes just to thicken her own ones up.
Josie was a bit more daring with longer and thicker lashes. After their mascara dried, Josie said,
“Now for your lips.”
Tamsin grinned, and taking Josie by surprise, she kissed her. For an instant, Josie froze solid but relaxed and began to enjoy it. This was the first time that she’d been kissed on the lips.
“Why… why did you do that?” asked Josie.
“Because I wanted to. Didn’t you like it?”
“I did, but… That was my first.”
“Your first kiss?”
Josie nodded.
“Ok, my girl, I can see that this pupil will have to take charge when it comes to kissing.”
“I thought that you said that you have not had much success dating?”
“With long-term relationships, that is right, but I’ve had… or at least before leaving London, I had a lot of short-term flings.”
“We need to get going,” said Josie as she changed the subject.
“You look delightful, my dear,” said Elenora when Josie and Tamsin arrived for the reception.
Then she turned to Tamsin.
“As for you, my darling niece, I can see that Josie here is having a bad influence on you,” she said, grinning broadly.
“That dress and hair suits you. Are you keeping the hair?”
Elenora’s directness surprised Tamsin. Josie just grinned.
Tamsin turned to Josie.
“Should I?”
“Yes. You need some colour in your life. I was into blacks and greys before Elenora came into my life, apart from my hair.”
“We’ll see.”
“Let’s go inside and see who is here. I wonder who Charles is bringing?” suggested Josie.
The formal part of the reception was an all-new experience for both of them. While the dress was formal, most of the event was mingling with others or, as some called it, networking. Charles had a muscular blonde woman hanging on his arm.
“Who’s that?” asked Tamsin.
“From the look of her, she’s the sister of the twins who are the prop forwards for the 1st team. I think I heard that she’s the captain of the Women’s team over at Henley or Maidenhead. From her muscled frame, I’d guess that she is one of their forwards.”
Josie watched the couple. Charles was certainly enjoying the attention of his date. She resisted shaking her head. Now that she knew Charles a lot better, she doubted that this woman would last the distance. Deep down, she knew that Charles was not ready to settle down just yet. He had lots of unfinished business at the workshop. He had to prove to his mother that he was capable of running his part of the estate. Only then would he think about settling down.
As the event was approaching its conclusion, everyone had migrated out onto the terrace, that same terrace where Elenora had entertained Josie on the day that they had first met.
After sampling the delicious finger buffet, they carried on mingling with the attendees. They’d just finished talking to one of the tenant farmers when they heard a lot of shouting coming from one end of the terrace.
Seven shaven-headed and fully bearded men, all dressed in black, grey and white Islamic-style clothing, marched onto the terrace. They made a beeline for Josie, who was at that moment talking to Elenora. Tamsin was nowhere to be seen at that moment. It hadn’t mattered because virtually the whole of the Rugby Club’s first and second teams were present.
Josie saw them and froze on the spot, and went white in the face.
Elenora, whose back was turned to the men, said,
“What’s wrong?”
She tried to say something, but no words would come out. Instead, she just pointed. Elenora turned and saw the visitors. Charles and his mates from the Rugby Club had also seen them. Charles immediately headed towards Josie and his mother. He tried to get in the way of the men.
The man at the front of the uninvited guests simply pushed him aside. That was the cue for a load of burly Rugby Players and Farmers to get involved.
Elenora grabbed Josie’s arm.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Josie was still in a state of shock. Elenora and she almost ran into the house.
“Follow me,” said Elenora as he headed down into the cellar.
With the door to the cellar closed behind them, the noise of the melee subsided. Elenora headed for a steel cabinet that was secured by a combination lock.
“This is just for protection. If anyone comes through that door and down the stairs, I’m going to shoot. No one outside my family has any business down here.”
Josie was still too shocked to answer.
Elenore opened the cabinet and took out a double-barreled shotgun plus a box of shells. She opened it up and put a cartridge into each barrel. Then she closed it up with a satisfying click.
“Now we wait.”
All Josie could do was stare at the gun and nod her head.
“I know that at least two people were on the phone with the police, but we’ll be safe here.”
“I… I hope so.”
“Was that your family?”
“Yes. My father, brothers and uncles.”
“They looked angry
“They are super angry because I caused them to lose face in their community. Only my head on a pole outside the Mosque in Afghanistan will repair the damage, especially for my uncles who are more hardline than the rest of the family. They are the real patriarchs of the family, so... They want me dead.”
“I had hoped that we were beyond that sort of thing in this country.”
“If the anger in their eyes was anything to go by, they want blood tonight…”
Together, they held each other. It was painful not knowing what was going on.
After half an hour, there was a rapid knocking on the cellar door.
A voice from behind it said,
“Mum, you can come out now.”
Elenora visibly relaxed. She unloaded the shotgun, put everything back into the cabinet, and locked it.
“Please keep the gun thing to yourself. It is legal, but the last thing we need is having to answer a load of awkward questions from the police.”
“I never saw a thing,” replied Josie with a nod.
“Good. Let’s get out of here.”
Outside, the seven intruders were talking in Farsi at a rapid pace. They were all in handcuffs, with a uniformed officer holding their arms to stop them from running off into the looming darkness.
As Elenora and Josie appeared on the terrace, all of those under arrest tried to move towards her. This time, they were held back by the officers. Tamsin came and stood right at Josie’s side.
A uniformed officer with a lot of crowns on his shoulders approached the two women.
“I’m Chief Superintendent McConaughey. You are?”
“I’m Lady Crowell, and this is my home. This is Josie Hayes. She is the person that those men came here to abduct.”
“That is a strong accusation,” said the officer.
Josie stepped forward and said,
“The one in the centre of the group is my father, Abdul Tariq Aziz. The three to the right are my brothers, Mohammed, Sayed and Shah. The other three are my uncles, Ali, Mohammad and Abdullah. They want to abduct me and either end my days or send me to Iran or, worse, Afghanistan, where it is likely that I’d be put to death for defying the word of Allah.”
As soon as she mentioned them by name, they all started speaking rapidly to her in Farsi.
“Do you know what they are saying?” asked the Chief.
“They are saying that I should die and go to hell right away for being an insult to Allah. That’s the clean version. My mere presence on this planet is a direct insult to the word of Mohammed.”
Then Josie added,
“Chief Superintendent, there is something that you need to know. I was born male.”
He cursed under his breath.
“Sorry about that. Hate crimes are a nightmare when it comes to paperwork. It starts to make some sort of sense now.”
“Chief Superintendent,” said Charles, who had been standing by watching Josie.
“Perhaps I could make a suggestion?”
“Please. I’m open to good ideas.”
“I’m sure that Josie does not want to have the public and the media, especially social media, making an issue about her gender. Fifteen seconds of fame and all the baggage that comes with it is not what she wants.”
“So? What do you suggest?”
“Have you arranged for a translator who speaks Iranian? They may well refuse to speak English when dealing with officialdom even though they all speak it perfectly,” said Josie.
“Farsi is their main language, but they also speak Pashto from Afghanistan,” said Elenora.
“If you have translators for both languages, they can’t deny understanding what is being said to them.”
“I will have to do it. They are all refusing to speak English, but it is clear that they all understand it,” said the chief superintendent.
“Chief, I suggest that they all sign a statement showing that they will not return or do anything to hurt Josie and that if they do, the hate crimes will be brought out of cold storage. The uncles would then be deported, which would not go down well with them. Who knows what fate awaits them in Kabul? Then, if you add in some conspiracy charges, they’d be looking at a very long sentence. Josie just wants to live a quiet life here,” said Charlie.
“Are you a lawyer or something?”
“I have a degree in Law, but I’m not a two-faced lying scumbag who loves to stiff their clients for every penny that they have.”
“I get you,” said the Chief, then he added,
“Why are you doing this?” asked the Chief Super.
Charlie smiled at Josie.
“Because Chief Superintendent Josie is a wonderful woman and deserves to be treated as such. I hope that signing those statements will allow her to live her own life and prosper.”
“Take them into custody and keep them separated,” said the Chief to a sergeant.
“Arrange for several interpreters who speak both Farsi and Pashto. Also, arrange for a solicitor for each of them. I want this cleared up tonight, understand or at the latest by lunchtime tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The Chief Superintendent turned to Elenora and Josie.
“Luckily, I was close by when the call came in. But I will need a statement from you both before I leave. I think that the suggestion by your son, Lady Crowell, might work if the only alternative is to appear in front of a magistrate and face a spell on remand. I take it that your father and brothers ones are naturalised citizens?”
Josie shook her head.
“My brothers were born in Iran and came here when they were very young. I came along four years later and was born at the Hospital on Mile End Road.. My uncles are from memory here on refugee visas. My father is naturalised, as are my brothers. They have Afghan passports as well as British ones.”
Then she looked a bit embarrassed.
“Sorry for repeating myself,” she admitted.
“That is good to know. We can subtly threaten them with revoking their visas and citizenship if they do anything. Don’t worry about repeating yourself. Everyone is a bit tense at the moment.”
“Chief Superintendent, you don’t quite understand. They want me dead as a way to repair the reputation of my former family in their community. If you doubt me, please contact the Police Community Relations Officer in Limehouse. They’ll brief you on what honour killings are all about in their community.”
“Thank you for the heads up. I’ll make sure that the right decision is made.”
“Come on, my dear, we can make some tea and start writing down our statements,” said Elenora as she and Tamsin took Josie by the arm and led her back into the house.
“What’s wrong now?” asked Elenora as she put a cup of tea down in front of Josie.
“It has been a bit of a shock… Just when I was starting to settle down.”
She managed a smile at Tamsin. She had a weird look on her face.
“Is there something that I should know about?” asked Elenora, who had picked up on the smile.
“Auntie, I think I have feelings for Josie here,” said Tamsin.
“Is that so bad?” asked Elenora.
“It is in so many ways. It just does not feel right, and besides, we have not even dated.”
“Time, my dear, just give it time.”
“What if ???”
“Stop right there. Tamsin, you are my niece, and Josie is someone special. From the reports I have been receiving from my tenant farmers, you two seem to be well-matched. If it comes to pass that you are serious about a relationship, then you have both mine and Charles’s support.”
“If it does not, then I’d have to move on,” said Josie.
Elenora shook her head.
“I’ll have none of that talk. You are part of this family. You have seen how we treat our tenants. This estate is a team effort with me as the captain. Without them, this place would not work, and you, my dear, are a key part of that team for as long as you want it to be.”
Josie could not hold back her emotions any longer. She started to cry, and Elenora was on hand like a mother should be to give her a handkerchief and an arm around her shoulders.
When she had recovered, Josie said,
“Thank you, Elenora.”
“No thanks are needed. Now, my dear, the statements. Then the two of you can go home and enjoy each other’s company. After today, you deserve it.”
When they had completed the statements and delivered them to an officer who had been taking statements from witnesses, Elenora found her son Charles supervising the clearing up of the grounds.
“Charles, I would like you to come to dinner tomorrow night. I have something to say to you, Josie and Tamsin.”
“Josie and Tamsin?”
“Yes. It appears that they might be a couple, but what I’m going to say affects us all.”
She gave her son a look that told him to shut the hell up, and all would be revealed the next day.
Back in the house, Elenora found Josie and Tamsin getting ready to leave.
“I’d like you both to come for dinner tomorrow night. I have something to say to both of you and Charles.”
“What about?”
“I’ll tell you tonight. In the meantime, please go home and relax. Oh, and it is just us, so no need to dress up. I’ll be doing the cooking.”
“Thank you, Elenora.”
When they reached Josie’s cottage, Tamsin took control of the situation. Josie was very silent. The shock of seeing her family like that was starting to hit her hard. It was a reminder that her life was at risk if the wrong people found her.
Elenora sent the staff home early that Sunday night, so it was just the three of them having dinner in a small room off the main dining room. Now that the excellent main course had been consumed, it was time for Elenora to speak.
“Charles, as you know, I’m not the first wife of my late husband and that your brother was from his first marriage.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“What you don’t know, and it is my fault for not telling you when you came of age, but I was busy nursing your father through his last days.”
Charlie was about to say something, but Elenora put up her hand to stop him.
“What you don’t know is that you were adopted. The first Lady Crowley had a sister who became pregnant, and the birth was very complicated; she died a few days later from Sepsis. We stepped in and adopted you as a newborn after all, you were family.”
“I know that. Dad told me before he died.”
“There is more, and this affects you, Josie.”
Elenora took a deep breath before continuing.
“I’m like you. I was born male. I’d started living as a woman before I met your father. I was upfront with him after our first meeting, but he was not one to take no for an answer. His family slowly came around to the fact that he was going to marry me, even if they disowned him. So, they paid for all of my transition before I was unveiled as the next wife.”
Josie could not believe that Elenora had been just like her. Suddenly, the way Elenora had accepted her from the start made sense.
“We were married the next year and had all the reception and everything, but it was never registered as it wasn’t legal then. I did marry your father just before he fell ill. This was not long after the change in the law to allow same-sex marriages.”
An uneasy silence fell around the table.
“That’s why, my dear, I was so accepting of you, and that's also why Charles is as well. He was brought up to understand the issues of the LGBT community.”
“Thanks, Mum, it all makes sense now. But why tell us now?”
“Yesterday, I saw Josie and Tasmin together properly for the first time. There is a chemistry there, much like there was between your father and me. Take your time, and if it works, then you both have my blessing.”
Elenora’s admission that she was trans was backed up by some photos.
“This is me just after I met your father. I had no idea who he was, and he kept quiet about it for months. Then, one day, he said, ‘Get dolled up, we are going for lunch at Harvey Nicks’. He gave me a wad of twenty-pound notes and said, ‘Get your hair and makeup done professionally. With what’s left over, buy something great but not overly sexy.’”
“What happened then?”
“The lunch was where he showed me off to his parents. There I was, a tranny from Deptford rubbing shoulders with a Lord and Lady. I was so far out of my depth that I’d drowned at least five times before the starter had been served. I kept myself together until, between the starter and main courses, Lady Crowell took me to the ladies. She checked that we were alone, and then she said, ‘Does my son know about you?’ She’d read me almost right away.”
After a sip of wine, she continued.
“He does. I told him after our first date. He has his mind made up.”
“’ Good,’” she said. “‘Then we can move forward.’ That was it; She didn’t even hesitate or try to stop it. That sort of decision-making blew my mind. From that day on, I was part of the family. My new mother took over my transition. She was there at my side. ‘This is women’s business’ was her favourite saying. I hope, my dear, that I can do the same with you. Don’t worry about the cost.”
“You look so… so different,” said Josie.
“True, but as you can see, my face was wrong from the start. Yours is much more feminine.”
Josie looked at the before and after pictures of Elenora.
“You didn’t mind all those operations?”
“Not really. I’ve had a pretty good life here, haven’t I? At first, I hoped that you and Charles would get it together, but it was soon clear that you would be just good friends, and those are in short supply when it comes to the challenges that you have ahead of you. What I’m going to say is unconditional, and I don’t want a decision tonight, ok?”
Elenora looked at the three young people at her table.
“Josie, just like my mother-in-law did for me, I want to fund your transition. I know that I have said it before, but this time, I have witnesses. Whatever you want done or not done, that is your choice. That was what was said to me when I was sitting where you are right now. I decided that if you pulled your weight around here, then I’d offer you that pathway. You have more than done that.”
“No pressure then?”
Elenora chuckled.
“There is none from me. You are a decent person who just needed a break in their life. You have shown that you can be a positive benefit to the estate since you came aboard. If I can be the person to give you that, then great. Whatever happens between you and Tamsin, you have a job and a roof over your head. You have proved to be a diligent worker. I’m so glad that your previous boss wanted you gone. It is clear to me that he could not see what a good employee he had. He offered me four of your colleagues when I asked the company for some temporary help. I looked at your CV, and something didn’t fit, so I got a friend from South London to do some digging. Your identity only went back to when you were nineteen. Then he sent me your missing persons’ photo. That was when I knew that you were worth taking on.”
“But… why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted you to tell me. Wasn’t it better that way?”
Josie thought back.
“I suppose it was.”
“You were using your change in gender as a weapon to keep people away. I knew that if you found a place where you were accepted for what you were, then that weapon was useless. It worked, didn’t it?”
“Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“That sounds a lot like you want to leave?”
“I have to, don’t I? After today with my family finding me. That has changed things.”
“Do you want to take them to court?”
“No. I don’t want the publicity.”
“Then write them a letter and push their faith back at them. Isn’t Islam supposed to be a religion of forgiveness? Like Catholics, confess your sins to the Imam, and you are absolved. If he is faithful to his religion more than his family, then he should be able to forgive you and let you live your life as you want to live.”
“But the teachings of the Imam tell us that it is a sin to wear women’s clothes.”
“Are you still a practising Muslim?”
“No. I’ve not even thought about praying or fasting since I left home. I knew that the world of Islam and what I had to do would not mix.”
“There is your answer for you. Not everyone can fit into little boxes with labels. We are just some of those who don’t and can never fit those ideals. There are radical Christians in America who would want to kill us for being who we are. They are not that different from the likes of the Taliban in how they view women and the role of women in life. That is part of the life we have to live.”
Josie got up from the table and came around to where Tamsin was sitting. For the second time that day, she had a good cry.
With Tamsin close by, Josie managed to get some sleep. That was the last night that they spent sleeping in separate beds.
Thames Valley Police worked with the Met Police in Limehouse, and the proposal that Josie had made about asking for forgiveness from the Imam seemed to work. The message came back that as long as Josie did not venture to that part of East London or try to make contact with any relative, her family would let her live her life in peace.
With Tamsin at her side, she blossomed and, after a year, was appointed deputy Estate Manager. Tamsin passed her exams and became a student at Oxford studying Estate Management. Elenora was sure that with the two of them at the helm, the future of the estate would be guaranteed regardless of what her eldest stepson wanted to do. Charles could carry on tinkering with cars, and she could relax. The future was secure. That was what she’d promised her late husband just before he died.
Together, Josie and Tamsin were inseparable and enjoyed facing the challenges of life together.
Josie had broken free of her old life. Her new one was the best day of her life, and in Tamsin, she had someone to love.
Both of them tried to grow their hair long. Josie succeeded and kept hers coloured reddish/copper. Tamsin’s hair decided not to grow, so she gave in and wore her green wig for life around the estate and then changed it to blue for university. It was her way of keeping the two very different parts of her life separate.
Just before the end of her first year, and despite the hormones that Josie had been taking, Tamsin became pregnant. She gave birth to a baby girl whom they called Elenora and then suffered severe PND. Josie took over being a mother as if she had been doing it all her life.
Now, she had two ‘somebodies to love’.
[the end]
PS, after the birth of Elenora, Tamsin’s hair decided to start growing again. Now it is Oxford Blue all the time.
[Author’s Note]
The title of this story is cribbed from the 1984 Queen song of the same name
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Want_to_Break_Free
The Wikipedia article on this describes how the band dressed in drag for the video. Even then, this caused controversy in the USA. Not much has changed in 40 years.