He had Ten Thousand Men
The Duke may have had that many men, but the pub where I worked, of the same name, would only fit a few dozen of them in the front bar, if they were friendly. There was a lot more room over the three floors and the beer garden. We catered to a very wide range of drinkers, from social groups, office after-hours groups, shoppers from along Oxford Street, and tourists drawn in by its eighteenth-century ambience.
I worked there in the evenings to make money to fund my room in a shared flat, a walk away on Princes Street, over an empty shop that nobody seems to want to lease. It’s a good location for me. A five-minute tube ride from Bond Street to Holborn on the Central Line and I’m only a short walk down Kingsway to the London School of Economics, where I’m in the second year of my course. There was an Italian restaurant next door, Indian down the road, and a Starbucks opposite. What more could a student want!
My parents had funded my course, but I needed to fund my living. The LSE accommodation was solidly booked, so I found where I now live through the internet. The other guys in the flat were both at Kings College doing Arts Degrees, so we often get the tube together. We did have a system where they wake me up so that I can head for the LSE, seeing that I’m often out until the early hours.
I grew up in a family that owned a pub. Actually, a few of them. My weekends, as I got old enough, had been spent tidying the bar and public areas, sorting out bottles and preparing bar snacks. The business had been started by my few times great grandfather, who opened a roadside tavern beside the London to Birmingham stagecoach route in seventeen-ninety. As the family grew, into the middle eighteen hundreds, more sites were obtained to give the growing number of sons work.
Nearly every son through the years had a pub to run, but I was different. I had a head for maths, and had five ‘A’ levels, including Maths and Further Maths. It was decided that I would be sent to the LSE to study finance, in order to replace the expensive accountants that the group now used at tax time. For me, I wasn’t sure that I would be able to replace that business, unless the family also funded a full suite of computerised accounting from every site. That would be a problem for the future, though.
Having grown up in a pub and spending a lot of my high-school years pulling pints in the bar in the evenings, I was welcomed at the Duke of York when I applied there. I worked Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays from six to closing time, starting on Saturdays and Sundays at four in the afternoon, and the other days I left at ten-thirty to go to my second job,
My second job started at eleven and was in the Tape Nightclub. On the weekends, we were always busy until three-thirty in the morning, so needing my back-up alarm clock on Monday morning. Friday and Saturday were well into the early hours.
One of the perks of working at The Duke was that I was able to get fed with things left over from the previous day, or specials that I could afford. Lunches, during the week, was usually from the LSE café. I didn’t really need to eat cheaply, as I was getting a decent wage from the two venues and a good share of tips from both of them as well. I was trying to build my bank balance, so that I could get a nice car, without going into debt when I graduated. With everything so close, I didn’t need one for the moment.
It was a busy life, with very little time for socialising, although I did get friendly with regulars from both places, with the nightclub crowd being rather more upper class, seeing that it cost a hundred pounds to get past the door. I also made friends among the people I worked with. The Duke was about fifty-fifty, with barmen and waitresses. Tape was about thirty-seventy, with barmen, waiters and hostesses. The girls were all beautiful, friendly, and mainly married. There were a few that would stop for a chat with me when things were quiet, as sitting at the bar was the usual resting place, not that we had many quiet times.
So far, things had worked out well. My first year into Finance had included the compulsory LSE100 course, where I took the ‘How can we Control AI’ option. It was worthwhile, as I expected that it would need AI to do all the finances, seeing that all the pubs bought and sold similar things, and anomalies were perfect fodder for AI reporting. I had worked at the Duke in my first year, only starting at Tape during the summer holidays. My parents didn’t mind that I didn’t go home, as I was learning another facet of hospitality. The flatmates didn’t mind, either, as I was able to keep the flat tidy while they were back home, shooting grouse, or whatever they got up to. They also popped in on the odd weekend to go to the shows.
We got through towards the last part of the year, were on track towards Christmas, and everything was working well. That was until the festive season started to throw up parties. I’d worked through a few at the Duke, last year, but this was the first year for me at Tape.
The Duke was all fairly normal. We put up some tinsel, had a tree and encouraged patrons to leave money or gifts for the Sick Childrens’ Trust in Guildford Street, just a little way away at St. Pancras. We had a Christmas party, with all of us workers decked out in red and green, with bells on our hats. The girls looked really nice, but I thought that I looked like a gnome.
Tape was different. It was, through the year, a place where celebrities and the well-off went to dance to DJs, drink, have fun, and make contacts. It was a haven for TV and film people, music and fashion icons, overseas visitors and touring entertainers. I’d met more big names in my time there than I could ever have imagined. My job was varied. I’d work the various bars and wait on tables, remove empty plates and glasses. You know, the usual watering-hole work. Friday and Saturday nights were the busiest, and we often went through to half-past five, which let me get some sleep the next days before I started at four.
Usually, what I had been wearing at the Duke was good enough, as I always tried to look presentable, but some nights things were different. With the Tuesday themed nights, they usually had a costume for me to wear. I’d been several superheroes, monsters, apes and dead movie stars. We’d gone overboard for Halloween, with all the staff done out as zombies. Some of the sights I’d seen that night gave me bad dreams for days after. Mind you, with what a lot of the girls wore, I had some very nice dreams as well.
Mid-November, I was given a week to prepare myself for a special theme the Tuesday after. One of the local fashion designers had a singing star decked out in one of their designs on a TV spectacular, and it had been snapped up by fans. It was a shift dress, with a lot of sequins, not quite a mini, but close. They wanted to host a celebration night, and a notice went up on the entrance telling the patrons that nobody would be admitted unless they were wearing one of the dresses. It was available in the shops, in a range of colours and sizes, so it was expected to be a glittering affair.
There were a few who were allowed to dress more normally. There wasn’t a size that fitted our bouncers, and the few guys with beards were allowed to wear jackets and pants that the designer had made up, with plenty of sequins, of course. Me, and the rest of the younger men, were told that we’d wear the dress. On the Sunday, I was given a garment bag with a blue dress, underwear, shoes, and a wig to be wearing on Tuesday, when I arrived.
With me going there from the Duke made it difficult, so, on Monday I asked the manager if I could leave a lot earlier on Tuesday. He wanted to know why, so I told him. He laughed and then told me that I could work my Tuesday shift in the dress and be the barmaid for the evening. Now, I have to tell the truth here. I was no stranger to wearing odd outfits. You don’t grow up in a social pub atmosphere without seeing your share of themed nights, including such weird events as Drag Bingo. I had worn sequins and tassels, wigs and masks, bodysuits and bikinis. If that’s what he wanted me to wear, then I’d follow orders. After all my years in hospitality, there was one thing I had lost forever, and that was being embarrassed in fancy dress.
This dress was really fancy, though. Far more professionally made than anything I’d worn before. The garment bag had included everything to transform me from Gene to Jean. There was even a new name-badge to wear, as well as a small bag of cosmetics. When I got home from the LSE, I got into the shower and thoroughly washed and shaved everywhere. I had previous experience in wearing a filled bra and didn’t have a lot to tuck when I pulled up the panties. Tights and heels on, I slid the dress over my head and looked in the mirror.
It fitted me as if I was a genuine girl, making any previous appearance in a dress look as if I had been in drag, and not succeeding. With my usual long hair, I looked almost right. I put the wig on, which blended with my own hair, making it a lot longer. I sat on the bed, with a mirror propped on the chest of drawers, and applied the minimal make-up. Just some rouge, powder, lipstick and work around the eyes.
When I left my room, the others had got home and just stared at me, mouths open.
“What’s the matter, boys. Haven’t you seen someone in a dress before?”
“Not like that, Gene. You’re a stunner!”
“It does look good. It’s for a special event at the club, tonight, and I wouldn’t have had time to change, so I’m the barmaid at the Duke tonight.”
“Save a table for us, we’re going there for dinner.”
“As long as you’re good boys, I’ll shout you a drink. See you there.”
I had a raincoat that I slipped on, with my wallet and Tape ID in one pocket, and the cosmetic bag in the other. I walked along Princes Street, trying to take shorter steps and getting into character. It was, for me, something very new. Yes, I’d worn a lot of costumes in my life, but never in the open air, in full view of ordinary people going about their daily life. The clicking of heels on the pavement was new, the feeling of the late afternoon breeze on my legs was new, the flutter of my hair around my face was new. The wolf-whistle I got from the driver of a taxi in Hanover Square was totally unexpected.
He Marched them up to the top of the Hill
When I arrived at the Duke, I took off the raincoat as I walked in, heading for the staff cloakroom to hang it up.
“Excuse me, miss. You’re not allowed in there, staff only!”
“It’s me, Gene. You’re the one who told me that I had to wear the dress and work as a barmaid tonight.”
“Bloody hell, Gene! You look good. You can do the dining room bar, tonight.”
“Thank you, boss. Just try to make sure that the guys down here keep their eyes to themselves when I go up the spiral staircase.”
“Just another worry to a sweet girl, like yourself. I see that you even have a gender correct name badge. Very professional.”
“That’s so I can be distinguished from all the others at the club. If you go home through Hanover Square, you’ll see the line-up of patrons dressed in something similar for tonights’ event. I’ll hang up my coat and I’ll head for the dining room.”
I hung my coat and took the cosmetic bag with me when I left. I smiled at the guys I knew in the saloon bar, knowing that they didn’t recognise me. As I was going up the spiral stairs, I could hear the hubbub of comments. The boss called out.
“Eyes down Billie.”
“If my missus had legs like that, guv’nor, I wouldn’t be sitting here with a pint in front of me.”
Charlie called out.
“It wouldn’t matter if she did have legs like that, Billie, you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it nowadays.”
As I arrived at the top, I could hear the laughter below. Angie, the main waitress in the dining room, saw me walk in.
“Table for one, miss, or are you waiting for someone.”
“Not you as well, Angie. The guv’nor didn’t recognise me either. I’m Gene, and tonight I’ll be working the bar up here until ten thirty. Then I’m off to the club where there’ll be a few hundred that are all dressed the same. It’s a celebration of that singer wearing a similar dress. Even the blokes have to be in a dress to get through the door. Can you save a table for Grant and Howard, please. They’re coming tonight, because they want to gaze on my exquisite beauty.”
She looked at my badge and grinned.
“All right, Jean. Welcome to the world of womanhood. You’d best use our toilets if you need to go. I’ll let the others know. How was your climb up the stairs?”
“Comments about my legs and Billies’ wife. At least I’ve given some dirty old men a laugh.”
I went behind the bar and checked the glasses and bottles. The taps would have been connected to new kegs in the basement during the day. My bag went under the counter, and I waited for my first customer. The dining room was a good gig, as the bulk of the orders were brought to me in written notes by the waitresses. I just had to fill the glasses and put them all on a tray for them. The only ones that would be at the bar, otherwise, were the fast drinkers and the odd ones who wandered in from the function rooms, looking for something other than the beer, wines, or soft drink supplied.
When Grant and Howard arrived, Angie showed them to the table and took their order. She brought the paper to me.
“They said that it’s your shout.”
“That’s right, as long as they’re good boys. It looks like they’ve had a shower and changed since I left.”
“Did they see you like this?”
“Yes, they were home before I left.”
“That’s your answer, then. They’ve both seen you in a totally new light. You’re not the workaholic guy that you’ve always been, now a good-looking babe. If you never wear a dress again, they’re going to remember this day for a long time, hoping that you walk out of your room looking sexy.”
“That’s a bit fanciful!”
“Look past me. Is Howard looking our way?”
“He is, and he’s looking at your bum, I think.”
“Go along to the end of the bar and pick up a bottle, take a peek and then tell me who he’s looking at.”
I did as she said, and when I looked up, he was looking at me and smiled.
I went back to Angie with the bottle.
“Now, that’s creepy! You’re right. He must be ill or something.”
“Or something, Jean. He looks like a guy in love, or it could be lust, there’s very little between the two looks. Either way, lock your door when you get home in the morning. You would know what a morning glory makes you want to do.”
“I don’t, actually. I’ve heard about it, but I haven’t had to deal with it, yet.”
“No wonder you make such a girl, Jean. Take a tip from me and go and talk to your doctor. Now, give me their drinks and don’t bother to put anything in the till. The guv’nor can wear this one.”
Before my flatmates left, Howard came over and sat on a stool to talk to me as I worked. As Grant was standing with his credit card in his hand, Howard put his glass down.
“What time do you finish at the club, tonight?”
“Three-thirty, why?”
“Because I’m going to set my alarm and come to escort you home.”
“I’ve walked that way four mornings a week for months now.”
“But never in a dress and looking like jailbait.”
“That’s true. What do you want out your chivalrous act.”
“Your company, as you look now, for the time it takes to get to the flat. If you never look like this again, it will be something for me to remember. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not gay, or not much, anyway. It’s just that you captured my heart when I saw you.”
“I’ll give it back to you when we get back to the flat. Thank you for the offer. I didn’t think through what looking like this could bring.”
Grant paid their account, and I gave them a smile as they left. Angie came over with the next drinks order.
“Time for the serious work, Jean. How was loves young dreamer?”
“He said that he’s going to set his alarm to come to the club and escort me home. That’s rather sweet of him, even though I’ve done that trip hundreds of times. He told me that I looked like jailbait.”
“Ha! That’s a new one. I’ll total up the tips and save your share for tomorrow. With how we’ve done, tonight, the guv’nor may want you to be Jean more often.”
“He’ll have to give me a clothing allowance, then.”
“As if, Jean. As if!”
I worked through to just before ten-thirty, going into the toilet with Angie looking out for me, taking my bag with me to touch up my face. She hugged me before I left the dining room and whispered in my ear.
“If all the girls were as good as you, Jean, we would rule the world.”
Then he Marched them down again.
The spiral staircase was not so easy to go down in heels as it was to go up. Especially as I could almost feel the eyes on my legs as I took each step as carefully as I could. It was a full bar and it fell silent as I descended. I waved to the boss and went to get my coat. Putting it on and putting my bag in the pocket, I walked through the crowd to the door, with several asking me if I needed a companion.
I strolled around the corner into the Square, seeing a big line of people in dresses like mine. It was a true sight to see, and there were a few photographers, probably from the Pink News, taking pictures. I strolled past them all and looped my ID lanyard over my head, going up to Big Joe, the doorman.
“Evening Joe. Big crowd of Wierdo’s tonight. Should be a giggle.”
“Evening Gene. You look fine, not like some of them out there, and that’s just the girls.”
“As long as they have a booking and the money, Joe, then we’ll all be happy come payday.”
“You’ve got it right, Gene. Have a busy night.”
I went in and made my way to the staff cloakroom, taking off my coat and hanging it up. Then I went to find the bar manager to find out where I was based. He took one look at me and sent me to the bar nearest the DJ station.
“Keep them hydrated, Gene, and try to move with the music. You have a full set of girls with you, tonight. I’ve put the rest of the lads towards the back of the club. Most of them look embarrassed to be in a dress but you totally own it, girl.”
I went to check my station and slipped a pair of small earplugs in. I’ve been here before and knew how loud it could get. Once again, I mainly worked with the waitresses, as it was strictly table service with a dance floor. The biggest difference with this bar was that we also did a line of cocktails, which I would have to make without the flashy moves as time was more important than show, unless a celebrity wanted to watch.
With the music going, the people dancing, and the drink orders coming thick and fast, the night went quite quickly. Finally, at closing time, I shut the bar down. All the takings were through electronic tablets that the waitresses held, which sent the drink orders to my monitor, and the meal orders to the kitchen. Any tips went through the same system and was allocated weekly.
I used the staff unisex toilet and got my coat, checking my face and putting the plugs in my bag to wipe when I got home. As I went towards the exit, in a stream of departing customers, the boss called me over.
“Gene. Don’t worry about bringing the outfit back. The fashion designer was really happy about the way the night went, and even pointed you out as someone she wants to see in her designs. She’ll be in touch and give me contact details for you to follow up. We’ll see you Friday night.”
“OK, boss, see you then.”
I followed the stream of happy drunkards outside, looking around for Howard. He was standing a few yards away with the most amazed expression on his face. I walked up to him.
“Howard. You really are a sweetheart. You look stunned.”
“All these people, all dressed alike but in different colours. It must have been bedlam in there.”
“This was a usual sort of night, except that the guys were all quieter than usual. It must have been the effect of wearing a dress. Thank you for coming.”
“I promised, Jean. I just didn’t expect to see all these couples hugging and kissing with them all in dresses. Does it get any stranger than this?”
“We did have one night, during summer, when everyone in the place was wearing a silk nightie. That was hilarious. Now, are we going home?”
He held his hand out to me, and I looked him in the eyes as I took it.
“This doesn’t mean we’re engaged.”
He laughed.
“Do you realise, Jean, that we’ve spoken to each other, today, for longer than we usually do in a week. How was your shift?”
“Non-stop, noisy, and my feet hurt in these heels. Walk a bit slower, please.”
“OK, if it takes longer to get to the flat, I’m good with that. Anybody special there, tonight?”
“In my area by the DJ, there were three girl singers who you would recognise, two film stars, no less than five fashion models and a princess. Fairly normal night, actually.”
“Wow! Is it like that every time it opens?”
“Usually. Saturday nights we get more music types in, and they sometimes do karaoke to the records. I don’t do the DJ bar every time, sometimes I’m up the back of the place, where the lights are low, and the settees are soft. It’s a lot quieter there. Oh! By the way. I was told to keep this outfit, so I could wear it again, for you. Maybe on your birthday.”
“In that case, my birthday is the fifteenth.”
“Which month?”
“All of them.”
We arrived at our door. I laughed.
“Do you want to come up, for a coffee, maybe?”
“Jean, you do know I live here as well.”
“Just having fun, Howard, Thank you for walking me home.”
I gave him a hug, as I had received a few in the last few hours, and he held me close as our lips met. I didn’t want to upset him, so didn’t pull away, and then his hand was on my butt, and I felt something between us. That’s when I pulled back.
“Hey, big boy. Thanks for the complement, but I really need my shuteye, I’ve got a lecture at eleven.”
He opened the door and followed me up the stairs, no doubt watching by butt all the way. In the flat, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and went to my room to get undressed and into bed after a very strange evening.
Marianne Gregory © 2026
And When they were Up, they were Up
Next morning, I hauled myself out of bed and did my business, had a long shower, and dressed for my lecture. It was really odd to see the dress hanging in my wardrobe, and even odder to see the cosmetics on the chest, next to the wig. I had cleansed, last night, before I went to bed, so the pillow was still clean.
I wandered into the kitchen and made myself some toast. After breakfast, I cleaned up my dishes as well as the ones left in the sink, as usual. The lads had early lectures a lot of the time. I stood at the sink and thought about the walk home. I’d been Jean since five, the day before, and had absorbed the character to the point of letting Howard kiss me. It wasn’t that I hadn’t been kissed before, but that had been Aunts and girlfriends.
I checked my student bag for all the things I needed, made sure my voice recorder battery was full, and today I walked to the LSE in the cool air, to clear my head of crazy thoughts. I sat through the lecture, making notes, and then went to the café where I had a decent meal. Then, I did my usual thing, going to the library to make some sense of what I’d heard and do as much of the project given as I could.
Then, it was back to the flat. When I walked in, the boys were there.
“Afternoon, lads. Did you enjoy your meal last night?”
“It was good, Gene. We really should go there more often. Howards’ been telling me about the crowd that poured out of that club last night. It sounded like a very strange place.”
“It is a strange place. You get a heap of with-it people to act as one, have fun, dance a lot, see celebrities and you charge them an arm and a leg just to be there, followed by taking their teeth and ribs to eat and drink. Howard was very gentlemanly to come and escort me home, and I appreciated it.”
“Are you likely to be going there in a dress again”
“I don’t know. The manager did speak to me as I was leaving. He told me that the fashion designer was going to give him her contact details to pass on to me. I was at the bar next to the DJ and was told to groove with the music. It was a lot of fun for me, as well.”
Howard looked like the cat that had just seen the cream.
“Do you think that the designer wants to have you modelling? You looked as good as most of those that came out that door, and I’m talking the girls. Most of the boys looked like they were wearing somebodies sack.”
“Why, thank you, kind sir. I don’t know what will happen now, but wearing that dress got me noted at the pub as well. Especially going down that spiral staircase. The bar went quiet for a few moments. I wondered if my panties were showing. Come to think of it, they probably were, for the ones sitting straight below. That’s something that we don’t have to worry about when wearing trousers.”
I went to my room and made ready for the evening at the Duke. I said cheerio to the guys as I left, and walked back to the pub, passing the entry of Tape on the way. Joe was standing outside as I got there, having a sly cigarette.
“Hi, there, Gene. Good night, last night. You looked as if you deserved to be in that dress, unlike a lot of the others.”
“Thanks, Joe. By the time I got here, I had done four and a half hours at the Duke, around the corner, so had got used to it. It actually felt normal by that time.”
He put a finger on his earbud.
“Just a moment. The boss has noticed you on the camera and is coming down to talk to you.”
“OK, I’ve got twenty minutes before I’m due at the Duke.”
The boss came out and gave me a business card and a folded paper.
“The designer sent these around for you, today. Do me a favour and give her a call as soon as you can. She was very happy with what we turned on last night and is likely to be holding other events here in future. You were so natural, be prepared to get more evenings in a dress. There is the big Christmas bash where all the girls look like Santas’ helpers.”
“Looking forward to it already, boss. Got to run, there’s a bar waiting for me around the corner.”
“OK, Gene, see you Friday night. Don’t overload yourself. You’re a good worker and we may be able to offer you something better in the New Year.”
When I walked into the Duke, the guv’nor took me aside and we went into his office.
“Don’t look so worried, Gene. You did a great job last night, in difficult circumstances. Angie was impressed with how you carried yourself. If I put you in the dining room, tonight, would it be a problem?”
“No, it would be good. Is there much in the way of bookings?”
“We have almost a full room with a local business having a meal and meeting. They wanted a function room but the only one big enough was already booked. It means that instead of supplying the drinks by the bottle, they’re giving us a bar tab. The screen will have a warning when they get close, so tell Angie then and she’ll talk to the organisers. How did it go at the club?”
“Loud, proud and totally off the wall. The punters couldn’t get in unless they were wearing a dress like mine. The designer would have made a mint at her outlets.”
I put my coat on the hook in the cloakroom and went up the staircase, this time without the ribald suggestions. Angie was waiting for me in the dining room.
“Big crowd in, tonight, Gene. Has the guv’nor spoken to you?”
“He did. It may be an interesting evening. Do you know who we’re catering for?”
“It’s the Fashion Academy, just around the corner. It seems that one of their alumni had a big success with her designs. They’re combining it with a festive dinner, while there’s still places that they can get in.”
I pulled the papers out of the back pocket of my pants and looked at the card.
“Is the designer Steph Foster?”
“It is. Was that one of her dresses that you were wearing last night? It did look a bit like the one on the singers’ video.”
“It was. That was because the event at the Tape, last night, was put on by her as a celebration of that very video. You had to be wearing one of those dresses to get inside, and it was hilarious to see how embarrassed the guys were.”
“What’s on the paper?”
“It’s contact details for her. The manager gave them to me as I passed. She wants to talk to me, but I don’t think she will want to if she sees me as I normally am.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you if I hear anything juicy tonight.”
I made sure the bar was ready to go, double checking the odd things that aren’t normally needed, as a crowd from the fashion world would possibly order cocktails. Last night I had made quite a few.
The diners started arriving and we started getting drink orders. About a third of them were for cocktails, mainly Cosmopolitans. The girls started getting orders in as the tables filled and I was busy for a while. There was a cheer as Steph came in and she came straight over to the bar.
“Good evening, Miss Foster. Cosmopolitan with an extra dash of lime?”
She looked at me more intensely.
“I think I’ve seen you before. How do you know my favourite drink?”
“I think that I may have mixed several for you last night.”
“You? It was a girl behind that bar, a very interesting one as well.”
I pulled the card and paper from my back pocket.
“The manager gave me this, today. He seems to think that you wanted to talk to me. I suppose that seeing me as my real self will mean that I can put these in the bin.”
“No! Seeing you is even more exciting. I have to create a range of gender-neutral outfits for a boyband. It’s to be presented to them for approval in February. You’ll be a perfect model. You even look like a couple of them. When can you see me?”
“Weekdays I’m at the LSE, and work here in the evenings, and Tape when they’re open. A Saturday or Sunday morning would be ideal.”
She took a small notebook out of her bag.
“How about next Saturday, at the address you have, say eleven in the morning. If it gets interesting, I’ll give you lunch.”
I picked up a pencil and made a note on my piece of paper.
“All right, Miss Foster, I’ll be there. Now, I’ll mix your drink. Will you want a few, tonight? I can do a larger mix and put it aside for you, which will save time.”
She looked at my name badge.
“That will be good, Gene.”
I mixed her special and poured her first for her. She took a sip and smiled before she went to take her place at the main table. The evening was a good one, the main noise being girlish laughter from the ladies in the room. It was busy, with more of them wanting cocktails, which, of course, hit the bar tab limit a little earlier than they hoped. I spoke to Angie, who went over to the organiser and whispered in her ear, being given a card to swipe. We kept it at the till until the party was over, and then swiped it for the extra. The organiser was finishing her drink as it was done, to input her code.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening. The food was good, the service excellent, and the delivery of the drinks first-class, especially all of those different cocktails. You, young man, are a genius. How did you learn so many at your age?”
“Growing up in a family who own pubs, ma-am. I spent a lot of time behind the bar, and we had an American barman who had been trained in New York. I’m good with maths, and a lot of cocktail differences are in the ratios, which I seem to have mastered easily.”
“Steph tells me that you were that stunning girl who caught her eye last night. That was an amazing transformation. Do you do that often?”
“No, that was the first time I went for a genuine look. I’ve often worn costumes, working in hospitality, I’ve been almost every superhero in the magazines. The outfit was supplied by the club.”
“Amazing. If what Steph is planning works out, the bar will lose one of its best.”
She took her card and left us. Angie looked at me intently.
“What?”
“Yes, Gene, What’s going on?”
“Miss Foster saw me at the club last night and left contact details for me to get in touch. You saw how I looked, maybe she wanted to get me in for a photo shoot. Tonight, I asked her if she wanted her favourite cocktail, with extra lime, and she saw me as I really am. Now she wants me to see her next Saturday, about a range of androgenous outfits for a boyband that she needs a model for. Beyond that, I know nothing.”
“That’s great! We may see you up on posters in frilly shirts and big-legged pants one day. I’ll be able to point you out to my grandkids and tell them that I knew you before you were famous.”
I went home at a reasonable hour and caught up on my sleep. On Thursday, I had a lecture and caught up on my course work, the one day when I wasn’t yawning all the time. I started to think about what the Academy lady said about not needing to work nights. The thing was that while I was at the LSE another six months for this year and a full year to finish, I wouldn’t be able to work during the days, either. I couldn’t see a way around that, as my parents had funded my full course, and there was no way I could let them down.
On Friday, I had a lecture, and went straight from the LSE via the tube to Bond Street and left my big bag in the staff cloakroom as I started the shift at the Duke. I left it there for safekeeping when I went around to Tape.
On Saturday morning, I had the alarm on to get me moving in time for my appointment. I made sure that I was clean, hair washed, and shaved. I had a few nice shirts and slacks, so went with those and a denim jacket. There was a pair of Cuban heeled shoes that I had bought on a whim and hardly worn. When I looked in the mirror, I thought that Steph had been right, I did look a lot like many of the members of current bands, except that I couldn’t sing or play anything.
I had to take the tube to get near her office, getting odd looks from girls in the train, but arrived without being asked for an autograph. Perhaps they couldn’t decide which one of a band I was. When I went in, I walked straight into a hug from a strange girl.
“Archie Sumpter, welcome to the House of Foster!”
“I’m sorry, miss. I’m Gene to see Miss Foster. I wondered which singer I looked like.”
“Never mind. Just wait a moment while I get my phone. I want to take a selfie with you and make my friends jealous. They’re not to know that you’re not the sexpot, himself.”
She took a picture of us both smiling, and another with her kissing my cheek.
“Thank you, Gene. I’ll let Miss Foster know that you’re here.”
When I was led to Miss Foster, she was in a photo studio with a couple of guys.
“Good morning, Gene. This is Alphonse, my main photographer, and Henry, our lighting man. I must say that you already look the image of what I was thinking. Did you get asked for autographs on the way here?”
“No, but I did get the odd look and had to have a selfie with your receptionist.”
“I should have expected that of her, she is a real tease with her friends. Al, what do you think of Gene?”
“Pretty much perfect for a band model, Steph. We can start with the outfit he has on, as it can be a baseline for what you have in mind. He reminds me of that singer that died, except that he has longer hair. Do you sing, lad?”
“Not a note. I used to organise karaoke in my fathers’ pub, and he paid me extra not to open my mouth.”
Over the next two hours, I posed for him, taking direction in something I’d never done before, with a range of outfits. They didn’t use any make-up, as it was all about the clothes. I did, at one point, have the frilly shirt and harem pants that Angie had spoken about, and they felt very soft and almost sensual. At just after one, I was back in the clothes that I arrived in and sitting in a nearby restaurant with Steph.
She bought me lunch and gave me a cheque for five hundred pounds.
“This is for being such a good sport and a good model, Gene. It’s given me a lot of ideas for the band outfits. The money is for your time as a casual. If we want you back in the studio, we’ll have to get you an Equity card as a fashion model, and then pay you the standard rates.”
“Thank you for that, Miss Foster. I didn’t know what to expect out of today. I had wondered, after Tuesday night, if you had wanted me to model as a girl.”
“That can come later. When can you come in? I know that you work nights.”
“I’m studying Finance at the LSE. My parents have funded the full course, which I’m now in the second year. I work at the Duke of York every night, and at Tape four nights a week. It’s a full life at the moment. With the LSE, we finish the term soon, and restart in January. With the night work, we’re getting into the busiest time of the year, with Christmas and New Year parties and events. Tape will be having themed nights where I’ve already been told that I’ll join the girls as a helper. The main time that I’m free, during the day, is the summer break. I didn’t go home this year.”
“Look, email me with your uni holiday dates for a start. Do you do the hospitality because you like it, or because you need the money?”
“It’s a progression from me growing up in a pub. My folks want me to take on the job of running the business accounts when I graduate. There are about twenty pubs in the group, all run by offshoots from the family, dating back to the original stagecoach stop in seventeen-ninety.”
“So, they’ve mapped out your future.”
“It seemed the right thing at the time.”
“Now, you’re not so sure?”
“It was my world up to living here. The Duke was a progression, but working at Tape had opened up a whole new vista of what life could be. What you’ve spoken about is a progression of that world, not the old one. It’s going to take a lot of thought.”
“I won’t push you where you don’t want to go. I’ll get you the card, so that I can use you with the band outfits. We can work those sessions in with your available time, without messing up your schedule. I’ll need you registered so I can use your image as part of my presentation. Next year, however, you may have to decide about the other work. From what I can see, the biggest change that you can make will be dropping Tape, so letting you get your proper sleep. What you’ll get from me will offset that income, and maybe more. You may even go to Tape as a celebrity.”
When I got back to the flat, having picked up my school bag, Howard was there when I walked in. He was, once again, open-mouthed.
“You look like a longer haired George Michael!”
“Actually, I had a selfie with a girl this morning, who said that I was Archie Sumpter. Which was better, as he’s actually still living. I then spent two hours in various poofy outfits being photographed. It was a very strange experience.”
“Not dresses?”
“She said that it would be next year, possibly, before we move on to that. She’s getting me an Equity card to be registered as a fashion model.”
“What about your studies?”
“I told her that they were not negotiable. I may have to stop working at Tape after the New Year, to give me more time for other things. She told me that I should get much the same with income, as well as getting more sleep.”
I didn’t change to go back to the Duke, that night, which was good, because I was behind the dining room bar again, with several girls wanting to have a selfie with me, including Angie. When I got to Tape, it was even more fun, as some in the line took pictures of me as I went in. I was given a hastily made badge with Archie on, and did the bar by the DJ, having a lot of pictures taken with a lot of girls, and a few boys, hanging on to me. Luckily, I was more sober than the ones who tried to follow me home and learned how difficult it was to run in Cuban heels, getting to the door of the flat and rushing in. I stood by the door, listening to the clatter of heels and giggling pass by.
I took my shoes off as I went up the stairs and into the flat. As I undressed, I thought about the day. It had only taken me wearing an outfit that had been worn by a star to create mayhem. If this was what being a celebrity was all about, it’s no wonder they found hideaways to escape to.
On Sunday morning, I was on my laptop looking up Archie Sumpter. He was part of a boyband called B.U.K. They had a few hits in the top ten. When I looked at the picture of them, I knew why I had been in so many selfies. Archie and Ian Sumpter were brothers, but like opposites. Ian was short and lumpy but was the main writer. Archie was , well, a chubbier me with better hair. He was listed as being seen around with more ladies than I’ve had hot dinners. A couple of them had been in Tape over the months and were genuinely hot. The other three in the band were all Archie look-alikes. If these were the ones that Steph was working with, then it was no wonder she gave me the money.
After that, I did my best with the project I was working on, but my brain wasn’t in sync with the rest of me. I dressed in my normal working gear and went down to the Italian place next door for a change of lunch.
I did try to get into the project that afternoon and was slowly getting back into the swing when it was time to go to work. I did my shift at the Duke, and the Sunday at Tape, where I was given a Wonder Woman outfit to wear, as we were having a Superhero themed event. One of the girls gave me a quick make-up before the doors opened. For this show, both of the bouncers were in Hulk outfits and looked as scary as hell. I changed at the close and walked home, getting a few odd looks from slow-moving patrons. When I was in my room and looked in the mirror, I still had the make-up on.
I had a clear day on Monday, so finished the project for handing in. We were now into the end of term, with the last day the middle of December. I emailed Steph with my holiday dates, telling her that I would be expected to revise over the holiday and sit for exams in the second week of January, with lectures restarting on the third week. My next break would be from the first week of April to the first week of May.
I also told her that I would take some time off from both night jobs. I would let Tape know that I would take the first three weeks of January, so that I would have time to revise for the exams. I would tell the Duke the same, which they would expect, seeing that I had done the same last year.
My parents wanted me to go home for a while, but I had told them that I didn’t have the time. Tape would skip the usual Tuesday evening and have a Christmas Eve event and New Year Eve on the Wednesday instead, with the usual weekend before Christmas.
Before the festive shows, we were very busy in both places. I did get to wear the Santas’ Helper costume, more than once, and Howard escorted me from the club each time, with us kissing goodnight. It appeared that he was only interested when I looked like a girl. Mind you, it was nice to be escorted when I was in that costume, as jailbait just doesn’t begin to describe how I looked. I think that Howard would have spent some time in the bathroom after I’d gone into my room.
For the New Year parties, I opted to be at the Duke. They wanted me to run the dining room bar in a long dress and the wig, which I still had. I was now in contact with Steph, and we had organised a photo shoot between Christmas and New Year. When I had done that, I borrowed the long dress and matching shoes from her. She came along to the party, with some friends, and I had Grant and Howard escort me to and from. Both expected kisses at midnight, but only Howard wanted a goodnight kiss when we got back to the flat.
Marianne Gregory © 2026
When they were Down, they were Down
After New Year, I was busy with my books and notes, swatting up for the exams. And then it would be new work in a new term. I took the dress and shoes back to Steph and we arranged for me to be available on Saturdays to wear her new designs for the camera.
That meant that I needed to go through with the rest of the plan and tell Tape that I wasn’t coming back. The money I’d get from six hours in front of the camera would help, if not fully covering what I would have made in wages and tips, but Steph assured me that I would be earning more by the time I finished the school year.
I took the dress, wig, and other things to Tape in a carrier bag, telling the boss that the pressure of my second-year work would mean that I needed to get more sleep, so, reluctantly, would have to resign from my position. He told me that he was sorry to see me go and gave me a belated Christmas bonus.
I had enough aside to cover my expenses until more money from the modelling came in, so settled into the new term getting home before midnight every night. I made a real difference to my study but made Howard sad that he couldn’t escort me home in the early hours.
Things were moving along nicely, without any real worries. I was doing well in my studies, getting more sleep and spending much of Saturdays in front of the camera. I wasn’t going to be a billboard model, which would have meant that I would have to be prepared for fashion shows. I was, shall we say, the beta tester, where the fashions were filmed on me moving around, to double check the lines and flow of the outfit skirts. I had trialled all the outfits for B.U.K, which were accepted, with a lot of accolades.
That’s when everything spun around and upended my life. In the first week of March, I had a phone call from my father, telling me that my mother had been hit by a hoon losing control while doing drifting in the local supermarket carpark. I was needed at home, immediately.
I called the LSE and told them about my problem, and they told me that I would get all the course notes and some leeway when I got back. I called the Duke, and they told me to take whatever time I needed, as did Steph. I packed a small bag and bought a train ticket home, arriving with two days of sitting beside Mums’ hospital bed before she died.
The hoon was charged with dangerous driving, causing death, on top of not having a licence, driving an unregistered and uninsured vehicle. The police would throw the book at him, but it wouldn’t bring Mum back. It devastated Dad, which led to his own problems, so giving heart palpitations. He had to be hospitalised to calm him down. In the meantime, I slept in my old bedroom in an empty house. My older brother was busy running a pub of his own in Scotland, and my sister had married and gone to Canada for a new life.
When I went into our family pub for a look, I was horrified. The place was a tip and smelt of old beer. I asked for a lemonade, and was almost laughed at, but the bruiser behind the bar gave me a bottle and asked me if I wanted a straw. In the hour that I was there, eating a bag of crisps and drinking my lemonade, I saw him pocket at least three payments after the buyer turned his back, and then ring up ‘No Sale’ on the till.
I went to see Dad in hospital and asked him who was managing the pub. He told me that it was one of my uncles, his younger brother, Robert. I also asked who was on the licence. He told me that it was him, Mum and me. I went to the local police station and explained that, as a licensee of the pub, I wanted to shut it down and check the books, telling them what I had seen.
I was loaned two police cars for an hour. One crew went to the back, the other came with me into the pub, me with the licence papers. The bruiser tried a runner out the back and ended up on the floor in cuffs. We took the names of the few drinkers, allowed them to finish their drinks, and the police stayed with me as I looked through the pub. Making sure it was empty, they took the bruiser away, telling me that they could only hold him for a couple of days unless I could supply some real evidence.
I didn’t go home, doing a full stocktake. I found that the takings went nowhere near the deliveries. Luckily, I could also count the empties out the back, and check the kegs by rapping them with a small hammer that you use to tighten screw connections. Given the numbers, it didn’t take long to see that he was not only pocketing the takings, but likely moving spirits by the case. The other worrying thing was the number of bills with red printing from the brewery. The number of kegs being charged for was about two times what the pub would have turned over on a good week. The bill for two electric slot machines was odd, seeing that there wasn’t one.
Before I went back to the police, I went around to the pub my uncle was operating. It was pristine and had a good size bar with a lot of modern equipment, including two shiny slot machines. I sat outside in Dads’ car for a while, just watching, until closing time. I saw that the only car left in the carpark was a Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT, which my uncle got into after locking up. I looked it up on my phone, finding out that it was a good hundred and forty thousand worth if it was a quid. I wondered if a stocktake here would show that the takings didn’t match the purchases, by the number of cases and kegs taken from my pub.
The next day, I made a formal complaint, asking that the bruiser, who turned out to be my cousin, be charged with fraud and theft of property belonging to me and my father. I showed them my figures and told them that the pub was closed if they wanted to double check. I had a long talk with an inspector from the fraud squad and he rang the brewery. Half of the beer deliveries charged to my pub had been delivered to my uncles one. He asked me what I wanted to do, and I told him to get them to stop all deliveries until further notice and hold any action over unpaid accounts until we had worked it out.
With all the evidence that I had brought in, I was sat behind a one-way window as my cousin was interviewed. At first, he refused to answer any questions, but when he was told that he would be charged with stealing the takings and selling boxes of spirits, he looked worried. Then, he blustered, saying that his father would get him out of trouble as his father had some high-level contacts in the golf club. The inspector smiled and closed the folder in front of him.
“Sorry to be the one to give you the bad news, lad. My sergeant is on his way with some uniformed to arrest your father for dealing in stolen property and suspicion of fraud. His pub will be shut down while my team go through the books. I am now formally arresting you on a charge of theft and involvement in that fraud.”
I gave the inspector the keys to the pub and went to see my father. When I got up to the ward, I asked if a nurse could stay with us while I told him some bad news. He looked fitter than the last time I had seen him, a couple of days before.
“Dad, you’re looking good today.”
“I think that I’ll be ready to get out tomorrow, in time to say our last farewell to your mother.”
“That’s not going to be very nice for anyone. Tell me, how long has your brother, Bobby, been looking after the pub?”
“About a year, son. Your Mum had a fall, and I was looking after her full-time. We just let the arrangement carry on when she got better.”
“When was the last time that you went there?”
“A good nine months. Why, is there anything wrong?”
“I’ve shut it down, Dad. I went in to have a look and the place was a smelly tip. My cousin, Eddy, was behind the bar. You know, Uncle Bobs’ brute of a son. I sat there with a drink for an hour and watched him pocket about half the takings.”
“That’s just not right! When I’m out of here, we’ll go and have it out with Bob!”
“We’ll have to do that at the police station, Dad. In the time he’s been running the place, half of the brewery deliveries have been going to his pub, and a lot of boxes of spirits have gone the same way. On top of that, we’ve been charged for two slot machines that are gracing his own saloon bar.”
“That’s preposterous! What about the accounts?”
“I’ve gone through all the paperwork I could find, Dad. Our accounts with several suppliers has been stopped, pending court action over unpaid bills. The fraud squad have the keys to the pub and will contact everyone regarding the situation. Uncle Bob will be joining his son in the cells while his own books will be looked at. I expect that he’ll be formally charged with fraud, tax evasion, and receiving stolen goods as starters.”
Dad slumped back on the pillows and the nurse added something to his drip. I sat as he relaxed. He looked me in the eyes.
“Gene. You’re a good son, and I’m proud of you. I’m not proud in how I let everything slide, but I thought that I could trust my family. I give you permission to put the pub on the market if I can’t get strong enough to do it myself. That idea of you running the group finances is now dead in the water. I think I’ll have a sleep, now, and you can take me home tomorrow. I’ll need some support for the funeral, and then you can go back to London after I’ve spoken to the police.”
“All right, Dad. I’ll be in to take you out of here. I’m sorry to have been the bearer of such bad news at this time.”
“It’s all right, son. You did what you had to do. Now, run off and let me rest.”
I thanked the nurse on the way out and went out to the car. I sat for several minutes, thinking about my future. I got my phone and rang Steph, who was becoming a friend. When I was put through to her, I explained all that had happened to me. She was silent for a few moments.
“Gene. Did you say that you were doing the LSE course to take over the running of the pub group finances?”
“That’s right. It was about twenty pubs, but it would be a hard job to get them to install all the computers that would allow me to monitor them all. Even harder now my Uncle has been charged with fraud.”
“My business is growing like wildfire. Would you be interested in becoming my financial officer?”
“That would be great! I still have to get through this year and next, but it would be good. Thank you.”
“Look, what we’ll do is get you back here, find you a place nearer the office and allow you time for your study. You can do more modelling for me, as well as learning about my business. I’ll be happy to listen to any advice that you may give me and pay you a wage on top of the modelling. It’s not charity! What you’ve saved us with your photo sessions, on top of the success with the band outfits, has been instrumental to our growth. Give me a call when you get back and we’ll get it happening. Give yourself a few days with your father after the funeral.”
I went home and remade the bed in the master room, taking cases from the top of the wardrobe and carefully packing my mothers’ things, smelling her with every item I folded. She had been a beauty in her younger days, and had kept some of her better outfits, which were in my size. I saved them in a separate case, along with her cosmetics and other things. An idea was forming in my mind, as I knew that the House of Foster was an all-woman establishment except for the photographers.
When they were only halfway up, they were neither up nor down
Next day, I went to the hospital and picked up my father, taking him home. When he saw his bedroom, with one empty wardrobe, he gave me a hug.
“Thank you for that, son. I couldn’t have done that without collapsing. I’ll have a lie down, and then we’ll go to the restaurant in the High Street and have lunch. Can you make the booking? After that, we’ll go and talk to the police to see where we stand.”
“Right, Dad. I’ll give you a nudge around lunchtime.”
The rest of the day went well. Dad was refreshed after his nap, happy to be at home, and we had a pleasant lunch and a good talk with the fraud squad inspector, coming away with the news that Uncle Bob had been linked to a lot more cases of receiving than I had already discovered. His high-level contacts at the golf club were now under the spotlight. We were given back the keys to the pub.
We stopped there so Dad could see for himself, and then went to the undertakers to finalise tomorrows’ funeral. Later that afternoon, we picked up my brother and sister. She had flown to Scotland to see him, and they had flown down together. The four of us went to dinner and filled them in on the events of the last few days. We had to stop my brother going to Bob’s house to remonstrate with him, telling him that Bob was likely to be in a cell by now.
That evening, I rang the Duke to tell them that a lot had happened. I did tell the guv’nor about the pub stuff, and he was very understanding when I told him that it was unlikely that I would be working at the Duke again but would pop in to say hello when I was back in town.
The funeral was a sad affair, with a lot of the family and friends attending. Several asked where Bob and his family were, but we kept quiet. The next day, the local paper had his picture on the front page with the headline, ‘Local publican the kingpin of robbery gang!’
The day after that, my brother and sister were taken back to the airport to go home, and Dad and I were alone again. He, and my brother, had arranged for him to go to Scotland to stay with the family there when things had been sorted out.
I had a message to go and talk to the inspector, seeing that it was my name on the original complaint. When we got there he sat us in his office and opened a folder.
“Now. A lot has transpired since you came to us with your problem, Gene. You would have seen the local paper. Your uncle had been involved with a larger group, with him laundering money through ‘managed’ winnings on those slot machines. He was also selling stolen electricals in the pub, sometimes making them raffle prizes. We have rolled up a lot of back cases with the information he kept in his pub and his house.”
“What about our accounts, sir. Will they be cleared, or do we have to sell up?”
“The main ones are the brewery, the wine and spirit merchant, and the slot machine supplier. All of them are aware of the situation and will hold off any court action. We may be able to get a judge to award you compensation for what he’s done, out of his assets, but that may take a few months. I advise you to go about your business.”
We got them to put Dads’ contact details in the file, as he was the holder of the deeds of the pub, and I told the inspector that I was heading back to London. Over the next few days, we cleaned out the pub, packing up all the unopened bottles and untapped kegs, contacting the suppliers to come and pick them up as returns. We cleaned the saloon bar and then put a big sign outside. It read, ‘Closing Down. Free drinks tonight.’ When we opened the door, there was a line outside. Dad and I dispensed the drinks, threw bags of crisps out to the crowd, and the night finished when we exhausted the final keg. A lot of the customers were very sad that the pub was closing, but the newspaper article had let on that we were the victims in the situation. When we cleaned up, we found one of the waste bins with just bank notes in it. Dad insisted that I keep it as a bonus.
The following day, the returns were picked up and we had a visit from one of the country-wide chains, with an offer to buy the property and take over the licence, which Dad agreed to, and they set a day for signing the papers. Back home, we were visited by the local real estate agent that Dad had rung. The family home was put on the market.
After all of this, Dad was a lot better, was back in charge of his life, and it was time that I left. I packed another case with all of the things of mine that I wanted to keep and told him that the rest could go to charity. Next morning, we loaded up the car with my cases, and he drove me into London. At the flat, we managed to get a parking spot and I took the cases inside. I treated him to lunch at The Duke and then he drove away to get on with his life.
The other guys came home, and we sat in the kitchen while I told them all the things that had happened in the two weeks that I had been away. Later, that afternoon, I rang Steph and told her that I was back. She told me to go into the office in the morning, before I went into the LSE to let them know I could restart.
Her business was in a modernistic set of units on William Road, near Euston Station, and she took me around the corner to show me a flat on North Gower Street, between the Crown and Anchor and a solicitors office. It was being lived in by a friend of hers from the Fashion Academy, who would be going to Italy for work at the beginning of May. That would be right at the start of the summer term. Back at her office, I looked up the best way to get to the LSE. It was quite easy, with any of three lines that took me to Farringdon, and then one stop on the Central line to Holborn. Five to ten minutes if everything was running smoothly. There were so many eating options in the area, mainly Indian, that I would never have to cook. I was with Steph for two hours, going through her financial system. She had computerised it, but there were more modern packages that would streamline the system. She did have an accountant, but I would be able to save her money by presenting him with a financial report that he only needed to check and sign off at tax time. He didn’t handle the wages, or the payments in or out, so that would be one area where I could make a difference in very short time.
When I left her, I was at the LSE within twenty minutes, to check in with them. When I told them what had happened, the first thing they needed me to do was to have a session with their student support officer. I had lunch in the canteen and saw her in the afternoon, a session that lasted three hours as I had to go through the whole story, my part in the events and my thoughts about the loss of my mother, my expected future career, and probably my family home. When I thought about it all together, I spent some time crying while she organised some hot tea and some cake for when I had settled down.
When I left, that day, I was told to come back in the morning and she would help me get all the course notes that I would need to catch up with, to the end of the term, just a few weeks away, and promised a room where I could catch up, with a computer and printer for me to do anything that was needed to be handed in.
For the next few weeks, I spent every weekday at the LSE, getting my mind back in harness, without any need to have late nights. I told Grant and Howard that I would be moving out at the beginning of May, and we did have some evenings were we had a few drinks and talked.
I learned a lot more about my flatmates than I had known, even with the long time I had been sharing with them. They were both from the Midlands, from well-off families. Grant even grew up on a family estate where grouse-shooting was normal. Howard was from a family that had a trucking business, where they also built the truck bodies to order. He was doing a graphic arts degree.
We had a few meals at the Duke, where we were always welcome, a couple of times just Howard and me. I never suggested Tape, as I didn’t think that I needed that kind of entertainment. By the end of the term, I had picked up everything I had missed, and submitted all the projects that had been set. The guys went home, and I was in the flat with nearly a full month before I moved.
I spent that month, every day, in the House of Foster, spending about half of my time modelling, and the other half in a corner with the books and a computer. Steph quickly authorised me to get a financial package that would output the financial reports in a way that would be far easier for her to understand. By the end of those weeks, I had it all working smoothly, with all of the suppliers, employees and costings on the system. She took my interim report to her accountant, and, when she came back she took me to dinner.
I also spoke to her about me being the only guy in the office, and I was told that Jean would be welcomed. When I moved into the new flat, I was able to unpack the things that I had taken from Mums’ wardrobe and drawers. During term, I was Gene at the LSE, and Jean in the office. The other girls helped me get all the extra things I needed, like shoes and other things. When we got to the summer break, I went to a salon with one of the girls and had a full make-over, working in the office as Jean, full-time. One of the odd things that happened was that the dresses that had suited Mum, also suited me, and even triggered some design thoughts in Stephs’ mind.
For autumn, she had a new range that was advertised as, ‘It’s all in the Genes’, on the flier she sent around. I was the main model for these, which brought me to the attention of the fashion press as the new girl on the block. Somehow, Howard saw the flier and called my mobile, asking me if I’d go to a show with him if he came into town. One show led to another, and, by the time the next term started, we were going steady.
Also, by that time, the sale of the pub and my family home had gone through. Dad deposited a considerable sum into my account from the proceeds, which gave me enough money to look at transitioning.
When I graduated, the following year, it was as Jean, with the operation taking place before the Christmas break. Howard bought me an engagement ring, and I gave him permission to have a test ride as his birthday present in March. We married in August, and he became a part-time designer for the House of Foster, with his graphics degree being a total fit. We found a bigger place to lease, an apartment with a spare room where he could set up his office, as a freelance, adding other clients in a variety of businesses.
In the course of my last two years, I had gone from being totally down to being on top of my personal hill. Unlike the Duke, I may only have the one man, but I had many more than ten thousand following my social media site.
Marianne Gregory © 2026