[Central London, 2016]
Stephanie looked out of the office window and sighed. The grey February skies and the rain that seemed to have been falling for days showed no signs of easing up. She wished for winter to end and the world to start to come to life again.
She looked at the clock on the office wall. Only an hour to go before she joined the crush on the Piccadilly Line for her journey home near Rayner’s Lane.
“Steph, have you finished those letters for posting tonight?” came a voice from the inner office.
“Yes, Mrs Thompson. They are ready for your signature.”
Stephanie got up from her desk and went to take them to her boss, Paula Thompson, for her signature.
Mrs Thompson ran a very discreet and special dating agency. They didn’t advertise in the Media and had almost zero presence on the Internet, especially on platforms like Twitter/X and Facebook. The HQ office eschewed modern technology in all its forms. There were no computers or mobile phones, or even a FAX machine in sight. The letters that Stephanie had prepared were all typed on a manual typewriter. This was all done to enhance the aura of ‘exclusivity’ and ‘personal attention’ that the agency was known for in selected circles.
The agency's rejection of almost everything modern extended to the clothes that they both wore. They were dressed as if it were around 1959. While at work, Stephanie called the woman she worked for ‘Mrs Thompson’. Out of the office, they were mother and daughter. Stephanie had been brought up in a home that was decorated in the style of the late 1950s. Appliances were only replaced when beyond repair. The only piece of modern technology in the family home was the TV. Even their mobile phones were switched off and put away while at home unless the need to use them was urgent. It wasn’t as if they totally eschewed modern life and technology. Still, they both preferred a less distracted and decidedly slower pace of life, even if their business was located in central London.
Stephanie’s home was much the same. She did have an ancient laptop that was brought third or fourth hand from a pawnbroker in West Ealing. It was good enough for email and a bit of internet searching. Its main use was to source the retro clothes that they wore every day.
Stephanie had just finished sealing the envelopes when the office door opened, and a young man walked in. His whole demeanour was one of extreme nervousness.
“Hello,” said Stephanie.
“Can I help you?”
“I… I think so. Is this PS Placements?”
Stephanie smiled.
“It is. I’m Stephanie. Please come in and shut the door. This building has a horrible draft problem.”
The young man closed the door and stood in front of her desk. He could not keep his eyes off her clothes and, especially, what appeared to him a positively tiny waist. This was accentuated by a five-inch-wide black velvet belt that had a gemstone of some sort right in the middle.
“Now, how can we help you?” asked Stephanie.
“I… I… I err… I think that you find partners for people?”
Stephanie suppressed a laugh. Instead, she smiled.
“Do you have a CV?”
“Yes… Yes, I do.”
He fiddled with his backpack and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was slightly crumpled.
“Here it is. Sorry about the state of it.”
Stephanie took the sheet and scanned it. She shook her head.
“I need to take this to my associate. Please stay where you are.”
Stephanie stood up and went into Mrs Thompson’s office. She felt his eyes on her every move, so she gave a little bit more of a bum wiggle. Her skirt swished against her stocking-clad calves.
Mrs Thompson looked up from the papers that she was working on.
“And?”
“A little too young, but the best candidate I’ve seen for months.”
Stephanie handed over the sheet of paper.
“Judging by the contents of his backpack, I think he has come straight from school.”
Mrs Thompson read the sheet twice.
“Send him in. I’ll give him the bad news.”
“Are you sure? He’s very nervous, and we both know that sometimes…?”
“Ok, ok. I’ll be kind to him… Just for you.”
“Please go into the other office. Mrs Thompson will see you now.”
“Come on in, Damien,” said Mrs Thompson.
“I don’t bite.”
He came into her office. Like the outer one, there were zero signs of modern technology. Like Stephanie, Mrs Thompson was wearing a very retro outfit. Even her makeup was retro, with red lips, red nails and a flash of blue/green eyeshadow.
“Now, Damien, I understand that you want to change your life in a big way. Correct?”
He just nodded.
“The problem is that you are not yet of age. We do not engage clients who are under eighteen. I’m guessing that your parents know nothing about your desires?”
“No. They’d go apeshit if they found out what… who I really am.”
“And who is that?” she asked, putting him on the spot.
His eyes darted around the office. Anywhere but at her, and especially her eyes.
He took a deep breath and blurted it out.
“I should have been born a girl. I knew from my first day at school. As soon as Theresa sat next to me on that first morning at primary school, I knew.”
“What did you know?”
“She wasn’t wearing perfume or anything, but just being close to her told me that I wanted to be her.”
“Did you do anything about it?”
Damien shook his head.
“How could I when the teacher was my mother? Then there is Dad. He is an elder in our very evangelical church. People like him hate anyone who does not conform to their ideals 100% of the time. No one can be perfect all the time, but in his eyes, if you do wrong even once, you will suffer eternal damnation in hell. I’m not like that.”
Damien’s eyes had glazed over. He was close to tears, so he fished a decidedly grubby handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped them dry.
“I’m different, but I can’t tell him that I am. Then, last week, we went to church as usual, and I was introduced to Faith. Dad said, ‘Sit with Faith and get to know her. She is a nice girl.”
Once again, his eyes betrayed his state of mind.
“I knew right away what he meant. I’d seen it before in the church. His emphasis on the word ‘nice’ told me that she was a virgin and that I had been marked down to marry her before the end of the year. Faith didn’t smell nice. She had BO and needed to visit the dentist badly. Her hair was cut short much as a man would have it.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? I sat with her through the service. Then we were left to talk. There were elders nearby but out of earshot. She whispered to me that she was a lesbian. I just clammed up.”
Then, her mother arrived on the scene. She had been busy with the teas that were served after the service. She gave Faith a ‘Brides’ magazine and said, ‘We have to start planning your big day right now.”
“How did you feel?”
“I felt like the world was caving in on top of me. Faith wasn’t happy at all. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Faith and her parents are coming to visit on Sunday afternoon to talk about the wedding. That is how it is done with them and their Church.”
“I suggest that you say nothing to anyone about your visit here today. When you have finished school for the year,” she said, looking at his CV.
“You will be eighteen. Come back, and then we can talk. Can you manage that? Can you survive until then?”
He nodded but didn’t look happy.
“I think so. I overheard Mum on the phone talking about an October wedding.”
“I went to Faith’s school yesterday. I managed to speak to her for a couple of minutes. She’s going to leg it as soon as she is eighteen in September. Her last words to me were, ‘You are far too girly for me. I want a butch woman.”
It was clear to Paula that Damien wanted to say more, but just didn’t have the words to describe how he was feeling. Paula had seen what he’d described several times in the past few years. The rise of the evangelical hard-line Christian sects, a more unwelcome import from the USA. They were, in her eyes, just as restrictive and dogmatic as the hard-line Muslim factions such as the Taliban or Hamas. She’d hoped that the era of arranged marriages was over, but his words had told her that it wasn’t.
“Don’t worry, Damien, as far as we are concerned, you were never here today.”
She handed him his CV back.
“Can you destroy this for me, please? My parent will go mad if they find me with a document like this. In their eyes, my future had been ordained by God. Bollocks. Sorry for the language. They just want me to continue the scam that their church has been running for years.”
Stephanie took the crumpled sheet of paper from him.
“As Mrs Thompson said, you were never here.”
“Please try to put all of this out of your mind until you leave school. Our clients are not looking for dumb blondes if you get my meaning. They want people who can contribute to their lives. One of our previous clients is currently finishing their PhD in molecular biology. Their partner runs a biotech company, so you can see how they can work together. So, good luck with your exams… and I promise you that none of our clients will want to railroad you into getting married without knowing you as a person.”
“Thank you for even seeing me at no notice.”
“Damien, if things take a turn for the worse before your birthday, please don’t do anything silly. Can you promise me that?” asked Paula.
He just nodded. He knew what she was referring to.
Damien left without saying goodbye.
“Poor kid,” said Stephanie as she came into the office after seeing Damien out.
“He was terrified, but he took the first and crucial step. He wants to change, and change is our business.”
“Shall I start a deep dive into his background? That church of his parents sounds awful.”
“Please. Cheryl should be available next week as it is half-term, and she lives just a few miles from him.”
Cheryl was one of their converts who was happily married to the father of two boys.
“I’ll call her in the morning. I need to get those letters in the post.”
Paula nodded her head.
[July that year]
Damien was in trouble. His reluctance to agree to anything related to his forthcoming marriage had angered his father. Words were said, leaving Damien under no illusion that his life was about to end.
He returned to the offices of Paula and Stephanie.
“Damien, we were not expecting you for another month or so?” remarked Stephanie when he arrived.
“My life is over. My father has decided to send me to summer school in some redneck part of the USA so that I can become an honest God-fearing person. That school specialises in what they advertise as ‘Conversion Therapy’.”
“Why did he do this?”
“I have not agreed to anything that they want me to do about the wedding. Talking back to your elders is not allowed.”
“He says that I have had unclean thoughts and that I need to be cleansed before I become a man of god.”
“Man of God?”
“He’s enrolled me in the theological college that his church is aligned with. It is next door to this summer camp. I’ve looked it all up. It is worse than a prison. You sleep in ‘cells’ like a medieval monk. There is no heating because they say that it makes people soft in the mind as well as the body.”
Damien handed over a flyer for the ‘Summer School’.
“I stole this from my father while he was preaching last night.”
Stephanie read it twice. What she saw was not good.
“That isn’t good. Let me see if Mrs Thompson is off the phone yet. I put a call through to her just before you came in.”
Damien sat down and let out a huge sigh. The frown lines on his forehead told Stephanie just how stressed he was.
Stephanie went into the inner office. Her mother was waiting for her, so she gave her the flyer.
Paula looked at it briefly and shook her head.
“I heard most of that. Shit Creek does not even come close to what he’s going through, and there is a lot worse to come if this is anything to go by.”
“Are you going to call Thomas Gold, or shall I?”
Paula smiled back at her daughter.
“I’ll make the call. Why don’t you make our guest comfortable?”
Stephanie smiled. Her mother had read her mind once again.
“Thomas, Paula Thompson.”
“We are good, but we need your help.”
“A radical Christian family want to send their son off to the USA for ‘summer camp’ and then Theology College. The camp seems to be a thinly disguised correction facility for non-believers. I have not looked up the college, but if others like it are anything to go by, then it could be more of the same.”
“Yes, that is what we would be looking for. He is eighteen at the end of August. After that, he can walk out, but I fear the damage could already be too much to rectify if he has been ‘corrected’ by those people.”
“He’s here at the moment. He’ll need a place of safety for tonight.”
“Thanks, Thomas. We’ll see you in a while.”
Paula put the phone down. Their day was going to get more complicated, and any thoughts she might have had of an early night were fast disappearing over the horizon.
[to be continued]
“Damien, it is nice to see you again. I had hoped that it would be under better circumstances.”
“Thank you, Mrs Thompson.”
“Paula, please.”
“Thank you for seeing me again, Paula.”
“I’ve made a call to a good friend of mine. He will be here shortly to talk to you. Don’t be afraid of him. He is a human rights lawyer and is very interested in taking up your case.”
“Eh? My case?”
“It is wrong for you to be sent to one of those camps. That brochure tells a lot, but the reports on the internet say many nasty things about it. Because it is in what they call the ‘Bible Belt’, no one wants to do anything about it.”
“I have no money to pay for a lawyer.”
Paula smiled.
“It won’t cost you a penny. Most civil rights cases involve one side that can’t pay. Thomas Gold does this sort of work, what we call ‘pro bono’. That means free of charge.”
Damien didn’t look impressed.
“What will happen to me?”
“Tonight? We will get you somewhere safe and where your family can’t find you. Then, Mr Gold will start the process of getting you to become a ward of the court. Once that happens, your family can’t force you to go anywhere that you don’t want.”
Just then, his phone bleeped.
“That’s my father.”
He opened up the phone and looked at the message.
“He’s reminding me that I am leading the bible reading tonight and that I need to get home now to prepare.”
“Do you want to go?”
Damien shook his head.
“Then text him and tell him that you are not going to be there and that you are not going to the prison camp in the USA.”
“I can’t say that?” said Damien.
“Yes, you can. If you want to break free from your parents, then there is no better time than the present to do it. They are about thirty miles away if my memory is right?”
He hesitated.
“They are at home, aren’t they?”
Damien nodded.
“Then? What are you waiting for?”
Damien didn’t reply but started creating a text. When he’d done it, he passed his phone to Paula.
“That ok?”
Paula read it and made a spelling correction.
“Being is ‘e’ before ‘I’.”
“Sorry.”
“Well?”
Damien looked at her and then pressed send.
“Wait for it to be delivered, then switch your phone off and remove the SIM Card. That will be the last time the phone or the card is used… Understand?”
“Why? Why should I switch it off?”
“Then he can’t track your phone. Parents have been known to put Trojan horses on their children’s phones just to keep track of them.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Borderline, but they still do it. It is all part of wrapping their children in cotton wool until they walk down the aisle, totally unprepared for the big bad world outside their little bubble.”
Damien didn’t look very happy.
“Don’t look so sad, Damien. It is not all bad.”
“I tried to tell them that I was not like them when we had Sunday lunch after the Ascension Sunday services at the end of May.”
Paula stiffened up.
“I said that I’m not that into all this religious stuff, and I want to be an architect and not a pastor.”
She relaxed.
“What did he say to that?”
“He went very red in the face. Then he stormed away from the table. In doing so, he spilt the gravy boat. He just glared at Mum, and off he went. He came back with that brochure.”
Damien closed his eyes.
“Read this. I’m sending you here to get all those evil thoughts beaten out of your body. Satan has taken your mind and body and is testing me. He will not win, understand!”
He’d accidentally picked up two copies of the brochure, so when he wanted one back, I was able to give it to him. He’d go mad if he knew that I had this one. This sort of material is only allowed for the elders.
He shuddered.
“He sent me to my room. From then on, either Mum, Dad or one of the leaders of his church were with me whenever I left the house. Even going to school to sit my exams, there they were waiting for me outside the exam room and very ready to quote the scriptures at me. They seem fixated with the idea that I have been taken over by Satan’s demons, and I need to have them exorcised from my mind and body.”
“Ugh! It must have been horrible.”
Damien shook his head.
“Not horrible… the worst days of my life.”
“How did you get away from them today?”
“I left the house just before dawn and rode my bike to the station. I had just enough money for the train to Waterloo. I’ve been walking the streets ever since. Well… not quite. I went to the National Gallery for a bit. Then I came here.”
“Well, you are here now and help is on its way.”
Damien didn’t seem convinced.
“Do you think that my phone has been bugged?”
“I don’t know, and no one here is skilled enough to find out. Why?”
“If it is bugged, then my father will know where I was when I switched it off. I’m sure that he’ll be on his way here to rescue me from whatever den of iniquity that I have fallen into.”
Paula laughed.
“This is no den of iniquity, but I know what you mean.”
She thought for a moment.
“We aren’t the only business working out of this building. Plus, our name is not on the list of companies in the lobby, so your father would have to go office by office to find us. However, it might be prudent for us not to be here when he does come looking for you.”
Damien managed a small smile.
“Are you ready to ‘Walk on the Wild Side’?” asked Paula.
“What does that mean?”
Paula smiled. Damien’s education was sorely lacking.
“For now, it means becoming the person that you have always wanted to be.”
“Why?”
Paula mentally sighed.
“Do your father and his friends know what you are wearing?”
“Yeah… probably.”
“Then we need to change how you look. What better time to do it? Then the three of us can leave at the same time and act like three women who are friends.”
“I suppose so. I’ve never dared do it before.”
“With us at your side, it will work. All we need to do is leave the building and get into a taxi. We can lose anyone trailing us in the side streets, but we have to move quickly. Are you game?”
“Yes.”
For the first time, Damien managed a small smile.
She thought for a few seconds before saying,
“Stephanie, can you get the dress rack?” she called out to the outer office.
“Already and waiting.”
“Good, I’ll call Thomas and tell him of the change of plan.”
“Follow me,” said Paula.
Damien followed Paula into the outer office. On a rack was a series of very retro dresses.”
He didn’t look happy.
“This is how we dress, I’m afraid. The big plus is that people look at the outfits and not at the wearer,” said Stephanie.
Paula proceeded to take each dress off the rack and hold it in front of Damien. Eventually, she settled on a black and white polka dot number.
She pointed to the toilet/washroom.
“Go in there and get stripped off down to your undies. We’ll pass you things to put on. Don’t worry about padding upstairs. We’ll deal with that once you have changed.”
Damien took the dress and went into the washroom. He closed the door behind him.
Paula looked at Stephanie. She nodded in return before digging into a cardboard box for some other items of clothing.
“What shoe size are you?” asked Stephanie.
“A men’s size seven,” came the reply.
After a few more seconds of rummaging in the box, she shook her head.
“I’ll nip out and get something appropriate to wear.”
Before Paula could argue, Stephanie had grabbed her coat and bag and was walking out the door to the office.
Paula smiled and continued rummaging in their storage closet. They used it for spare clothes for those out-of-the-ordinary occasions that happened every so often, and where there was no time to go home and get changed. The result was that there were bits of everything in there. Some items should have been thrown away, but for some reason, they’d found their way into their office ‘glory hole’.
She found a bra that should fit and passed it into the washroom.
“Wrap it around your body and fasten it in front. Then swivel it around before hooking your arms inside.”
“Thanks,” said Damien and closed the door again.
Paula shook her head. It had been a while since she’d met someone like Damien. Most of the people who came through her office door had at least some experience with female attire.
Stephanie returned with a pair of shoes in his size and a pair of knee-high socks.
“Are you decent?” asked Paula.
“I think so,” came the answer from behind the door.
“Let us see, and I’ll do up the dress.”
Damien emerged, looking petrified.
“Don’t feel bad. You look pretty good,” said Stephanie.
He didn’t react. Paula stepped behind him and did up the zip of the dress.
“Please, sit down and put these on,” said Stephanie.
She gave him the knee-highs.
“Then I got you these.”
He looked at the shoes. His body language was one of relief.
“Try them on. They should fit.”
Damien sat down, and after putting on the knee-highs, he slipped his feet into the shoes.
“They seem ok.”
“Good.”
“But look at my hair and face? It won’t fool anyone for even a second,” remarked Damien.
“All in good time, Damien. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“We don’t have much time, do we?”
“He’s right, Mum. I saw two characters looking at the block next door. One of them looked like an older version of Damien. The offices there are on the other side of that wall,” said Stephanie, pointing at the back wall of the office.
“Stephanie, can you do the honours and make our guest as pretty as you can?”
“I can. Now, Damien… we can’t call you that. What do you want to be called?”
“Faye. Like Faye Dunaway. I loved how she looked in Bonnie and Clyde. We watched it at school as part of our contemporary studies class.”
Both women laughed.
“That is a good style.”
Paula disappeared into her office and let Stephanie work her magic.
“That will have to do for now,” said Stephanie some fifteen minutes later.
She’d just finished applying some mascara to Faye’s lashes.
“Mum, I’m done.”
Right on cue, Paula emerged from her office. She was carrying a wig and some jewellery.
“Well, don’t you look good? These should be the finishing touches.”
Paula deftly placed the wig on Faye’s head.
“It itches.”
Both women laughed.
“You will get used to it. You will have to if you want to grow your hair long.”
Faye nodded.
Paula put some bangles on Faye’s wrists and a couple of rings on her fingers.
“There. We are ready to go.”
“But… what about the Lawyer?” asked Faye.
“He’s waiting for us at his office. I called him earlier when we decided to decamp.”
“Mum, Faye needs a bag.”
“Yes, I know. She can take mine. I’ll carry my briefcase.”
Paula disappeared into her office only to return a few seconds later.
“Here you are, sling this on your shoulder,” she said, giving Faye her handbag.
“I can’t take this?”
The bag in question was covered in the Louis Vuitton logo.
“This is far too valuable.”
Paula smiled.
“It is only until we get away from here.”
“Ok… but only until we get to the lawyers.”
“Good, let’s go,” suggested Stephanie.
“You two go first and call the lift. I’ll set the alarm and lock up,” said Paula.
Faye appeared hesitant until Stephanie put her arm in hers.
“It will be ok.”
“I hope so,” muttered Faye.
The lift arrived, and for a moment, Faye’s heart stopped. All she could think of was her father stepping out and confronting her, Stephanie and Paula. Thankfully, the lift was empty.
The trip down in the lift, while only five floors, seemed to take an eternity. Once again, Faye held her breath as the doors opened. There was no sign of her father or any of his friends.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Paula.
The three of them walked out of the building and into the bright afternoon sunlight. Faye looked around but could not see any faces that she recognised. Paula was looking for a taxi.
After what seemed an eternity, one with a ‘For Hire’ sign lit up appeared. Paula flagged it down, and the three of them piled in.
“Red Lion Square, Holborn, please,” she said in a firm voice.
The taxi moved off, and the doors locked themselves.
They had only gone a few yards when Faye let out a small yelp.
“That’s the man I saw earlier,” said Stephanie.
He’d just emerged from the building next door to the one that held Paula’s offices. He was not looking at them but at his phone.
“That’s Pastor McMaster. He’s the number two at the church. A nasty man who thinks that it is not a crime to hit a child. He quotes the bible. Proverbs 13:24, ‘He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is careful to discipline him.’ The last time he did it to me, I quoted Proverbs 22:15 back at him. ‘Folly is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline will drive it far from him’. He went apeshit, and I received another six strokes of the cane. All illegal, but God’s word is more powerful than any human law. In their eyes.”
Tears welled up in Faye’s eyes. Stephanie gave her a tissue.
“Try not to smear that mascara.”
Faye looked at Stephanie, who was smiling. Faye relaxed.
The taxi carried on along the street as she was frantically trying to work the phone.
Once the taxi had turned the corner, Paula said,
“I turned Damien’s phone back on before I locked up the office. It is very well covered by CCTV, both internally and externally. If he breaks in, then we’ll have him dead to rights.”
Then she turned to Faye,
“You, young lady, are not coming back here until this is all settled legally. Then he can’t touch you.”
Faye visibly relaxed. Stephanie was on hand to wipe a tear from her eyes.
[to be continued]
The trio left Damien’s father and friends behind. After receiving some more directions from Stephanie, the Taxi took them to a quiet mews not far from Red Lion Square in Central London. They waited in the street while the cab did a ‘U-turn’ and disappeared into the traffic in search of a new fare.
“This way,” said Stephanie.
She led them through a passageway and into another street. Her destination was a Georgian townhouse almost at the very end of the street.
“Where are we going?” asked Faye.
“To see your lawyer. He’ll take you aside and explain what will happen next. Then, we’ll head out of the city and take you somewhere where your father can’t find you.”
Faye shook her head.
“You don’t know him. He is like an octopus and has tentacles everywhere.”
“Then tell that to your lawyer. He’ll use that in his application to the court.”
The mention of going to court didn’t appeal to Faye.
“I can’t go to court looking like this? Didn’t you say that I have to use my given name on the application?”
Stephanie laughed and then smiled. Faye/Damien was quite a smart cookie.
“True. We’ll get you some more asexual clothes first thing in the morning. But until we get to where we are staying tonight, you should be Faye. Ok?”
“That makes sense. For today, I’ll stay as Faye.”
“Don’t you like it? You know, being who you want to be?”
“I don’t want to be on the run. I want to be Faye, legally.”
Paula laughed.
“You do have a good head on you. How did your father get to be so… so bad?”
“He’s not my real father. All I know is what he told me years ago. He said that I was adopted when I was six months old. One of the things I want to do before I… before I become Faye is to try to find my birth parents. Once I’m eighteen, he can’t stop me from making an official request.”
“Well, that is for the future,” said Paula.
“In the meantime, we have a lawyer to see.”
Thomas Gold was not what Faye had expected, but after a bit of reflection, he never really had an idea about what to expect.
Mr Gold was a Hasidic Jew. He wore a black hat and a frock coat even indoors and had the ringlets in front of his ears. He’d never met anyone as striking as that.
“Please, come on in. I have been expecting you,” said Mr Gold.
He showed the trio into an office. The sound of children playing could be heard coming from another part of the building.
“Now Ladies. Down to business.”
Then, he addressed Faye.
“Damien, isn’t it? Don’t worry about me being an Orthodox Jew. I understand that God makes people differently, and for some, such as yourself, your body says one thing, and your mind says another. I call it God’s Hiccup. I’m here to try to make sure that your father can’t send you to a conversion camp against your will. That is not God’s way, no matter what your father might preach from the pulpit every week. I’m on your side.”
He looked at a piece of paper on his desk and said,
“From now I’ll refer to you as Faye in all verbal and written communications. I understand that is what you want to be called at the end of all this?”
Faye smiled.
“That’s correct. Thank you, Mr Gold.”
“Now, I understand that you are eighteen in a few weeks. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir. Nineteen days, to be exact.”
“Good. That will make it easier to get a temporary order that will stop your father from even attempting to make contact with you until you are legally an adult.”
“That’s what I want. Thank you.”
He turned his attention to Paula and Stephanie.
“Ladies, if you will make your way to the kitchen, I am sure that my wife will have some refreshments ready. Faye and I have some work to do.”
The trio left Mr Gold’s home almost two hours later. Faye was a lot happier now that she knew what was going to happen to her in the immediate future. Mr Gold would make an application to the family court for a hearing into making Damien a ward of the court until his eighteenth birthday.
Paula hailed another taxi, which took the three of them to Marylebone Railway Station. Stephanie disappeared inside when they arrived to buy some tickets. Faye was still in the dark about where they were going, but she trusted her companions.
“Where are we going?” asked Faye as they walked along the platform. The signs indicated that the train was going to Birmingham.
“High Wycombe. We have only half an hour on the train.”
“Paula,” said Faye.
“Could I get something to eat? I’ve not eaten anything today?”
She looked at the clock and at the board that was showing the departure time of the train.
“We’ll have to get something from the trolley, but don’t worry, we’ll have a good meal tonight.”
Faye managed a small smile. Her thoughts were now on being outed on the train. It was very busy as a 5 pm weekday departure would be. Commuters were going home after a day in the office.
Faye spent the whole journey looking out of the carriage window. For the first time since she’d left home early that morning, she began to feel alone in the world. She knew that Paula, Stephanie and Mr Gold would look out for her, but her destiny was very much in her hands. Mr Gold had made that very clear to her.
The trio let the throng of commuters leave the station before they left the platform. So far, no one had outed Faye, but her tiredness was beginning to show.
Yet another taxi took the trio to a large house up in the hills to the northwest of the town. Faye was impressed by the electronic gates that somehow opened as the taxi drew up outside.
“Faye, your room is on the left at the top of the stairs. There are some clothes in the room. Don’t be worried about the sizes; the last person we helped was a lot larger in stature than you. Tomorrow, we’ll get you some more suitable clothes,” said Paula.
“There is makeup remover in the bathroom. From now on, you are Damien until your legal situation is clarified… unless… you want to do otherwise.”
“Thanks, Paula. I… I think that I’ll go with what Mr Gold suggested and that I should not even think of showing Faye in public until I am of age.”
Paula smiled.
“Good for you. Making decisions is all part of what being an adult is all about. Sadly, most parents wrap their children up in so much cotton wool that they get a huge shock when they do finally get free from the family enclave.”
Stephanie cooked up a good but fairly plain meal for the three of them that evening. Damien cleaned his plate and then visibly sagged.
“Get off to bed and feel free to get up when you feel like it. Steph will be here. I have to go back to the office tomorrow, but as it is Friday, I’ll be back late afternoon.”
“What if my father is still around and follows you here?”
Paula smiled.
“I’ll lose him. Don’t worry about that. I have friends who will make sure that he does not find out where I live. This house is not in my name or the name of the company. We are used to taking precautions in situations like this.”
He didn’t look convinced but had to accept the situation.
[The following Friday]
Damien was starting to feel cooped up at the house near High Wycombe. Stephanie had been shopping earlier in the week, so he had some clothes and shoes for when he eventually did leave.
Thanks to video calling on the phone that Damien had been given, he had a say in the clothes that Stephanie purchased, so it wasn’t all that bad. What wasn’t expected was a phone call from Mr Gold.
“I think that we can make that,” said Stephanie with a frown on her face.
“Yes, he is fine.”
“See you soon,” said Stephanie when she ended the call. The frowns didn’t go away.
“I take it that it was bad news?” said Damien after watching her body language.
“I don’t know. We didn’t expect him to call today. He wants to meet us at Oxford Services on the M40 in an hour. He said that he has a meeting later in Oxford, so that’s why he suggested there for the meeting.”
“How long will it take for us to get there?”
“Half an hour. We’ll join the M40 at Junction 5. Why do you ask?”
Stephanie was dreading his next question.
“I have very little knowledge of the geography of this part of the world. If it had been the Surrey Hills, then that would be different.”
Stephanie did a mental sigh of relief.
“Are you planning on doing a runner?”
“Not really, but if my father and his gang of friends make an appearance, it would be nice to know how to ‘exit stage left’.”
His reply caused Stephanie to smile.
“I’ll mention it to Paula. Speaking of which, I need to phone her and give her an update.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“He said that there have been some unexpected developments and that he needed to ask you some questions face-to-face.”
“Ok, you make the call, and then we can be off.”
Stephanie smiled. She was beginning to like Damien. He had his head screwed on, unlike some of those who come through the door of their London Office.
“Nice to see you again, Mr Gold,” said Stephanie when they met the lawyer at the service area.
“Steph, please stay with us. There are some things that you need to know.”
“Damien, I hope that Steph and Paula are keeping you safe?”
“I think so. So far, there has been no sign of my father and his friends.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Ok, I’ll do my best to help where I can,” said a slightly apprehensive Damien.
“You said that you were adopted. How did you find that out?”
“It was something my mother said one Christmas. She said that because she could not have children, the girl who was my younger sister and I were adopted. My sister is not a blood relative of mine. She was adopted when I was around five or six. She was about two at the time. My father confirmed that when I asked him.”
Mr Gold was making copious notes of Damien’s answers.
“Did you ever see your adoption papers or birth certificate?”
Damien shook his head.
“Dad always kept them in his office safe, and he kept the key with him at all times.”
Mr Gold looked down at his notes before saying,
“Damien, your parents have not contacted the Police about you going missing. Would they, in your opinion, just let you go like that?”
Damien shook his head.
“No way. His plan for me and my future has been drummed into me for years. He sees me as the person who would take over his ministry from him, or that’s what he thinks he has been training me for the last ten years... Any belief I ever had in God has been beaten out of me by him.”
“Beaten? How?”
Damien turned around in his seat and lifted his shirt. Several scars were very visible. Two looked fairly new.”
“Did he do this to you?”
Damien shook his head.
“No, his assistant, Mathew Collins, did the dirty deed. Getting his hands dirty with anything was below him. He won’t even do the dishes.”
Stephanie listened intently. Paula would have to know about the beatings and the scars. She was sure that he’d kept them from her and her mother because of the embarrassment.
“Then…” said Mr Gold.
“My associates can’t find any record of anyone with the first name Damien being born on the date that you said that you were born, and not for several weeks on either side. Plus, there are no records of any adoption of someone with your name through the government process or via any of the major adoption agencies.”
Damien looked at the lawyer with bulging eyes.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Damien, so far, I can find no records of your birth or your adoption. We might just be looking in the wrong place. I say that because we have not checked the Scottish or Northern Irish and even the Irish Republic’s records yet. I have engaged someone to do the searching in Scotland and Ireland, starting on Monday.”
“But…” he added,
“I am concerned about the lack of contact with the Police. Because of the work that I do, I have contacts in all the Police Forces in England and Wales. The lack of any missing persons report after almost a week is not overly suspicious, but… if we get to next Friday and there is still no report, then I’m inclined to think that he is not going to report you missing.”
Damien was about to ask a question, but Mr Gold held up his hand.
“Many parents do not file missing persons reports for children who are over 16 but younger than 18. They hope, and in most cases, that hope is justified, as the missing child returns home of their own accord.”
“But you think that there is something more to this, don’t you?” asked Damien.
“I do, but until my associates have done their work, I don’t want to mention what that something is. I hope you don’t mind?”
Damien smiled.
“I have to trust you, Mr Gold. You are the expert here.”
Stephanie knew from Damien’s body language that he was lying. He was worried about what that something was. Stephanie had a good idea, but was not going to let on what that was. It was just too nasty to contemplate.
[to be continued]