They Think I am a Woman! - Part 10

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I woke up gradually, emerging from a fog of discordant dreams. Dreams that I was a boy masquerading as a girl just so that I could get a job! It was obviously a dream because reality wasn’t that stupid.

I could hear voices in the distance.

My eyes snapped open and I immediately realised that I was in a strange room, a bit like the sick room in my old school, but more high tech, chromium and sterile looking.

I was lying on a bed and as I lifted my head off the pillow, looking down my body, I knew with frightening reality that I was indeed dressed as a girl; boobies sticking out to attention and partially hiding my skirt and stocking covered legs. The memory of the awful meeting with my hated stepfather came rushing back.

My head fell back on the pillow as tears started forming in the corner of my eyes. I could not believe it. I was caught out, finished, kaput, and metaphorically dead in the water.

The pain and humiliation of it all; I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.

A door opened, and a woman with a nurse’s uniform came in, closely followed by Miss Prendergast.

‘Hello dear, how are you feeling?’ said the nurse kindly.

‘Er, um, fine, thank you.’

She checked my forehead and pulse as Miss P twittered around, looking all flustered.

‘You’ll live, said the nurse sympathetically. ‘Just lie here for ten minutes and then you can go.’

She bustled out; all starched apron, black stockings, and efficiency.

‘You had us all worried, dear. What happened, time of the month or something?’

‘Er no. Did um, er did Mr Roberts recognise me?’

‘No, dear. I don’t think so. He knew about your parents’ death, though. I think he was a bit surprised to see you. Anyway, as soon as you feel well enough, he would like to see you for a chat in his office. I‘ll push off for a few minutes and then take you to see him.’

She left me to myself. I knew now that he had recognised me and would put me through all sorts of humiliation to satisfy his warped mind.

‘SOD IT.’ I said to myself loudly.

How I could think of getting away with this, it was a stupid idea anyway.

I lay there feeling very sorry for myself, thinking about what it would be like to live in a nice clean cardboard box under a bridge somewhere, away from all the hassle of what was a farce of a life.

Eventually, I got up shakily and walked to the door. I wasn’t going to give my stepfather the satisfaction of seeing me cringe. My heels clicked on the tiled floor and my false boobs gently bounced up and down slightly in their silken traps. I stepped out into the corridor, running slap bang into Miss P!

‘There you are, dear, come along, we can’t keep the boss waiting, no,w can we?’

She held my arm in a vice-like grip. I think she thought that I might faint again or something.

As we went up in that damn lift, I fell into a sort of stupor. My mind was numb. It was as if I were going to my own execution.

Then, suddenly, in the few moments that it took to reach the 32nd floor, I decided.

I looked down at myself, noticing my cream silk blouse, perky (if false) breasts, and my elegantly tailored business suit with the skirt tastefully falling to just above my stockinged knees. Then I saw my face in the lift mirror, and it was a mess. If I were going to do this, I wanted to look my best.

‘Can I freshen u up, please, before I see my step, I mean Mr Roberts?’

‘Of course, hon,’

We reached the 32nd floor with a ping, and I was given directions to the ladies' loo.

I went in, and luckily it was empty.

I went over to the mirror and delved into my handbag. Luckily, I had the necessary tools needed for the repair of my ravaged face, and I marveled at the skills that I had acquired so quickly from my best friend Sheila. In no time, I was back looking, in my humble opinion, not too bad.

You may be wondering, dear, patient, and long-suffering reader, what the hell I was doing.

Well, I realised that I liked being Toni. I liked myself better, felt better, and realised that Tony was a poor underachieving substitute compared to what I was now. I was happier being Toni. It wasn’t just the clothes, although that helped a lot. It was the fact that I was more at peace with myself. I know that I had been through hell on my journey to Tonihood, the pickle incident in McDonald's being a prime example, but I liked the clothes, I liked the way people looked at me. Not as a scrawny boy, but as a young woman with a future, not here obviously, but somewhere. If I could get an interview here as a girl, surely, I could get one anywhere.

My musings were stopped by a knock on the door. Miss P’s head poked in.

‘Toni, are you OK?’

‘Yes, I’m coming.’

We reached my stepfather's office, and Miss Prendergast led me through the door.

On the other side, behind her desk was the Pippa clone, dark glasses still perched on her head like two extra eyes boring into me.

She knew, she must know, about me, a boy masquerading as a girl to get a job with, of all people, le my step-father. I could feel my confidence draining away like water down a plughole.

‘Hi Toni, feeling a bit better, ya?’

She was smiling and looking genuinely concerned. Perhaps dear step-dad hadn’t told her, too ashamed of me? After all, I supposed, it was a bit like bringing the families’ dirty washing out in the open.

‘Go right in, the boss is waiting for you. OK, ya?’

I pushed open the heavy oak door. My heart was pounding. I knew that I had to get it over with, so I took a deep breath and went in.

He was sitting behind a huge desk. He was typing on a keyboard and looking at a screen to the left, and he just motioned for me to sit down on the leather chair in front of him.

As I sat down, I blushed as the chair made a sort of farting sound. It reminded me of an old sitcom I once saw.

‘Give me a moment.’ He said in that well-remembered, clipped voice that I hated so much.

I looked at him as he concentrated on the screen. He looked very much as I remembered him. Dark hair with a touch of grey at the temples, thin nose, hazel eyes, lips pursed as he concentrated.

He bashed the enter key, turned round to me and said, ‘Feeling better?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘What made you go white and faint like that?’

‘You must know.’

‘I’m sorry; I don’t know what you mean. What must I know?’

‘Look, David, please don’t play games. You owe it to Mum not to hurt me more than you have done.’

‘David?’

‘So, ’ I said sarcastically, ‘You’ve forgotten that you married my mum and then, when she died, chucked me out with a few measly pounds!’

For some reason, I was now crying.

‘David, what do you mean, David?’

He looked puzzled, then he snapped his fingers.

‘Bloody hell, do you think that I’m David? No, I’m his twin, Peter. I wouldn’t piss on my brother if he was on fire!’

I went all faint again, and I saw stars in front of my eyes. Do all girls start swooning like this at the first sign of extreme stress? Perhaps I was more girly than I thought.

Before I knew it, Pippa clone was in front of me with a glass of water. I sipped the cold drink as David, I mean Peter, hovered around looking useless.

‘I don’t believe it.’ I kept mumbling.

‘Toni sweetie, are you OK, hon?’ said Pippa clone.

I was a bit out of it, and I just pointed my finger at her and said, ‘Is your name Pippa?’

‘No, hon, it’s Sasha, why?’

‘Nothing.’

‘OK, Sasha, you can go now. I’ll call you if she goes all faint on me again.’

‘OK, Peter. Don’t let him bully you, Toni, he’s a little sweetie really.’

‘OUT.’

‘Yes, Sir, Mr Boss Man,’ said Phillipa as she laughingly left the room.

I now knew that no way this could be David. He had a sense of humour bypass when he was born.

Peter sat down at his desk and said. ‘I think that it might be an idea if you told me about what has happened to you. Start from the beginning. I promise that I won’t interrupt.’

I took another sip of water and then told him my life story. How I was brought up by my loving parents. How my father died, and then, after she married David, my mother died in a tragic accident. I told him about being thrown out of my own home and the struggles that I had experienced to try to make ends meet.

Peter listened to me finish, cleared his throat, and then said. ‘Well, you’ve certainly been through it. I didn’t twig that you were Phillip and Sarah’s child until Sasha Prendergast told me that you mentioned the death of your father to her. I knew your parents through your father's work with us. He was a great man and bloody good at his job. We became friends and I met your mum shortly after. She was a lovely woman, and I am so sorry you have lost both of them. I suppose it was my fault that David married her. I introduced them to him at a party. David was looking for a secretary, and one thing led to another; she got a job with him. I had no idea that he had gotten that close to your mother, and I’m somewhat surprised that he married her.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, after your father died, I lost touch with your mum. I was not talking to David as we had not seen eye to eye on several things. He was cold, cruel to my parents, took a lot of money from them, and treated them like animals, and then dropped them when they were no further use to him. He lacked what I call moral fibre, and the last time I saw him, I punched him in the face and disowned him.’

‘That sounds like him. He was cold and cruel to my mum and to me.’

Peter looked at me with a puzzled expression.

‘Changing the subject slightly, I think that there is something else you haven’t told me.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Your parents, as far as I’m aware, had only one child by the name of Anthony or Tony for short. I never met the K, id but I am assuming that unless they had another child, you are Tony. Perhaps you would like to explain what’s going on and why you are trying to do an impression of Melanie Griffith in Working Girl?’

So I told him about the mix-up on the interview letter, how it was assumed that I was female, and the fact that my friend, Sheil,  had persuaded me to go for the job dressed like this.

He laughed when I told him of my adventures in McDonald's, the two lovely gay bikers, and the bumbling policemen.

‘So,’ said Peter, ‘You certainly have the balls. I mean the resourcefulness to make great efforts to get this job using every means available to you, and that’s to your credit. Now that I know that you really are Phillip and Sarah’s son, I think you need to know a few things. Do you read the papers much or watch TV?’

‘Not really. Papers are all doom and gloom, and I couldn’t afford a TV, why?’

‘Although I had not spoken to David for some time, I had heard that he had moved abroad to Australia, selling his company and pocketing the proceeds in the process. He was also implicated in a scam involving the company pension scheme. To cut a long story short, he was brought back to England and is now awaiting trial for fraud, embezzlement, and also bigamy.’

‘Bigamy, isn’t that when you marry someone, but illegally because you are already married?’

‘Yes, that’s right. It turned out that David had married one of his secretaries some years ago. He had fathered the woman’s child, and her parents arranged a secret shotgun wedding. She was a catholic and would not divorce him. He left her and the child some years ago, and it was only after the police investigated his affairs that all this came to light.’

‘So he married my mother under false pretences.’

‘That’s right, hit, and it could be important to you.’

‘Why? She is dead now, and I’m only glad that I don’t have any family connection to him.’

‘Well, leave it with me and I’ll make a few phone calls. I will see how things are and let you know the position.’

‘Why would you do that for me?’

‘Because of what my brother has done, not only to you, but to my family and friends.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it. Anyway, let’s get back to business. When can you start?’

‘Start what?’

‘To work for us.’

‘You still want me to work here after all that has happened?’

‘Yes, of course. Phillipa has a good eye for new employees, and she likes you. On top of that, you are the child of some dear friends and almost a relative, if only bigamously, that’s good enough for me.’

My spirits rose out of the depths of despair. I couldn’t believe that he was still interested in employing me.

‘I can start straight away, if you like.’

‘OK, come in tomorrow at 10 o’clock and ask for Sasha. She will assign you and get you going.’

‘Thanks, that’s great news.’

‘Just one thing?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you coming to us as a girl or a boy? You seem pretty at ease with yourself dressed like that, and you are very pretty, if you don’t mind that sexist remark. I don’t mind whatever you decide; we have an open policy here. As long as you do your job, you can come as an elephant, if you want. Anyone who discriminates will not keep his or her job. Luckily, to date, no one has had a problem with this.’

As he was talking, I remembered the conversation I had with myself in the lift. I took a deep breath and said, ‘I like the way I am. I know it all seems very quick, and I have messed up so many times in my life, but now, right at this moment, I love being a girl. I love the clothes and the way I look. I feel more alive than I have been in a long time, and although I’m constantly afraid of being outed or laughed at, I feel that I want to try to be the best girl that I can. I don’t know if I want to stay this way permanently, but I am far happier now than I have ever been, so what I’m trying to say is that I would like to stay as a girl for now.’

‘OK, I respect that, but before you decide to chop bits off or do anything drastic, can I suggest that you speak to some experts before you finally choose which way you want to go? Also, if you want to keep your gender secret, that’s OK, but I suggest you tell Sasha, so that she is aware and can look out for you.

I automatically crossed my legs at the thought of ‘chopping bits off’.

‘Um, OK, and thanks.’

‘Right, push off now. I have loads of work to do and you have taken up too much of my time.’

He said it with a smile, so I knew that he wasn’t too annoyed with me.

I left him and walked out of his office.

Pippa was in the outer office with Pippa, I mean, Sasha.

‘Hi, hon,’ said Phillipa, ‘all OK ya?’

‘Ya, I mean, yes, fine, thanks. He said I can start tomorrow.’

‘Goodo. I knew he would like you. While I remember, a friend of yours, Sheil, I think, popped into reception and left a message that she would see you at home.’

I had forgotten about Sheila! She must have been waiting for ages.

‘Ok, thanks.’

‘Right, come down to my office and we’ll have a chat about what you’ll be doing and sort out the boring paperwork.’

We went in the stomach-churning lift down several floors, and we ended up in a nice cream carpeted, cream-walled office. This was the home of Phillipa Prendergast, HR manager, or so it said on the door. It also said ‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here’ and I hoped that it was a joke.

‘Sit down, hon..,’ she said, pointing to a sofa in the corner. ‘Coffee, white with?’

‘Yes, please.’

She poured out two coffees from a percolator bubbling in the corner and brought over the cups, handing me one whilst sipping the other.

She pulled over another chair and sat down opposite me.

Have you got a P45?’

Er, no. What is it, a disease?’

‘No sweetie, your P45 describes your National Insurance and Income Tax details, from your previous job.’

‘This is my first proper job.’

‘OK, no problemo. Can you bring your birth certificate in tomorrow?’

‘Erm, I don’t have it.’

‘Riiiight. Can you get a copy?

‘I’ll try. But it might take a bit of time. I left home after a row with my ex-stepfather, nd I don’t know where it could be or how I can get a copy.’

Phillipa looked a bit confused but didn’t say anything. The Sloane Ranger uppercrust, I suppose, the ‘One shouldn’t ask, should one?’ mentality.

I made a decision.

‘I think I need to tell you a bit about myself. Peter said I should tell you, but he left it up to me.’

‘Don’t tell me anything if you don’t want to. If Peter is happy about you, then that’s good enough for me,’ she said, sipping her coffee.

‘No, it’s only fair.’ I sipped on my hot coffee, took a deep breath, and just blurted it out.

‘I’m a boy.’

I chose the wrong moment as she choked mid-gulp and sprayed coffee all over my cream now coffee coloured blouse.

‘Oh lord, sorry, Oh GOD look what I’ve done. Your lovely blouse!’

‘It’s all right.’ I said weakly as she handed me a couple of tissues to try to clear up the mess.

‘No, it’s not, but it was a bit of a shock that. You can’t be a boy. Look at you; you’re so pretty; no one could mistake you for a boy. God, I wish I had your legs, face, most of you, actually. I look a bit like a horse.’

‘No, oh you don’t, you’re lovely.’

‘Oh gosh. Sorry, I babble like that. Normally, I’m Ms Efficiency, but you threw me a curve there. May I ask a personal question?’

‘Yes, OK.’

‘Erm, don’t answer if you don’t want to, and I do not want to upset you in any way, and I’m not one to judge or anything. My best friends would tell you that I’m not in any way, shape, or form biased or judgmental or anything, but why are you dressed like a girl, if you are a boy?’

‘Because I like being dressed like this, and I came to the interview like this.’

I told her the whole sordid story, and apart from the couple of ‘goshes’ and the occasional ‘golly’ and ‘oh my’s, she heard me out.

‘We, Toni, you certainly have been through it.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘W, Toni, you, Oh sorry, I’m burbling again. Look, I have no problem with this, and no one is going to bat an eyelid about what gender you are. In fact, to my knowledge, there are two men here who used to be women and one vice versa. We have some openly gay guys working here, too, Derek and Ronald. Lovely people, you must meet them sometime.’

‘Derek and Ronald?’ I said faintly.

‘That’s right.’

‘Both over six feet tall and ride bikes?’

‘That’s them. Do you know them?’

‘We’ve met.’ I said.

‘Oh good, you have friends here already. Now, I have a meeting to go to. I’m chairing an ad hoc committee, pro tem, with the MD and AMD re the PPM. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten and we’ll have a chat then. OK ya?

‘OK, um, thanks,’ I said, not understanding every other word she had just said.

I left the building in a much happier state than I had entered it, caught the tube, and arrived home just in time to run into my old friend Davis.

‘Oh,y you. What the hell are?’

He was wearing a tasteful ensemble of jeans (I think they were blue under there somewhere) and a once yellow T-shirt with ‘I’m the man.’ written on it.

The shirt was greasy with stains of several meals tastefully splattered over a goodly portion of the belly extended front of it. There were other dark stains under the armpits, which I assumed were sweat but would probably be useful in germ research or possibly warfare, but I digress.

‘I’m visiting my good friend Sheila,’ I said, thinking of my stockinged feet.

‘Mmm, well, don’t stay long. I don’t want to lower the tone of the neighbourhood.’

I just smiled and went past him, making sure not to touch anything and holding my nose delicately.

I opened the door with a key and there was Sheila, looking uncomfortable, sitting in a chair whilst opposite her, sitting on the sofa, were our friendly policemen, Mick and Dave!

‘Erm, sorry to disturb you. I’ll leave you alone.’

‘Just a minute, Miss.,’ Said Dave in an officious voice.

‘Y, es Inspector?’ I said brightly, still trying to sidle out the door.

‘I am still a humble constable,’ said Dave sadly, ‘anyway, enough of that. You are, Ms Summers?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Can you verify your movements on the night of the twenty-first?’

‘Well, I’m quite regular really, I get up in the morning and use the toilet then. I don’t need to poo in the evening normally.’

‘Not THAT sort of movement. Where were you on the night of the twenty-first?’

‘I can’t remember, it was so long ago.’

‘W,  what four days ago?’

‘Oh, that twenty-first. Let me see, I was doing my hair.’

‘Not all night.’

‘Well, most of it anyway. Then I went to bed.’

‘So you weren’t street walking and being picked up and driven away in a black BMW by a drunk driver?’

‘Who said I was?’

‘You look very familiar, Miss. It wasn’t very light, but I am sure it was you.’

‘What colour was the BMW?’

‘Black, why do you ask?’

‘Just wondered.’

‘Enough of this crap, Mick,’ said Dave.’ Let’s take her down the nick and extract a confession.’

‘What for? I haven’t done anything?’

‘Look, officers, what is all this about?’ said Sheila.

Mick coughed and said, ‘Well, it’s like this, the slime ball who we nicked driving the BMW under the influence, is claiming that we kicked the shit, I mean, hit him unnecessarily when trying to detain him. We thought that you were a witness to this and could corroborate the facts.’

I looked at them warily and said, ‘if, and I say if I could have been the person who may or may not have been in roughly that area at roughly the same time and if I happened to see anything, would I hypothetically of course, be in trouble in any way shape or form?’

All the years of watching police dramas were bearing fruit, and I knew the patter off by heart.

‘We, well, Miss, we aren’t interested in you, just trying to get the facts straight.’

‘And save your bacon?’

‘Well, yes,s really.’

‘And there wouldn’t be any charges? Not that I’m in any way guilty of anything.’

‘You’ll be as clear as the driven snow, miss.’

‘OK, and I have a witness, Sheila, remember? I was an innocent person, and I had just been upset by a man in a restaurant. I didn’t have any transport and I started to walk home. My feet were killing me, and a man driving a black car pulled up. I thought it was a taxi and I got in it.

I told the police what happened and how I slipped away whilst the drunk was being arrested.

‘Anyway,’ I concluded, ‘I didn’t see you hit the man in any way. In fact, he was causing you problems, not the other way round.’

Dave looked incredulous when he said, ‘So let's get this straight, Miss, you thought that a man in a black BMW drove up to you as you were walking home and you thought that it was a taxi?’

‘Erm, yes.’ I didn’t like the way he looked at me as if I were thick or something.

‘I see, Miss. Did you see any sign on the car that said taxi?’

‘No, but it was dark.’

‘Even so, miss.

‘Leave it Dave,’ said Mick impatiently, ‘all that matters is that she is willing to say that we didn’t beat the crap out of that bloke. Now, miss, would you mind popping down to the station to make a statement?’

‘What now?’

‘It would help clear things up.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Sheila, ‘I’ll come with you.’

So it was that I found myself down at the nick, filling out a statement for Mick and Dave.

After doing as they asked and getting my handshaken by the grateful and relieved policemen, we found ourselves out on the street again.

‘Let’s go get something to eat at Domino's,’ said Sheila.

‘OK,’ I said as we crossed the road, trying to avoid the busy traffic.

A short walk found us at the pizza restaurant. We were led to our seats, and then after a short wait, we were tucking into a pizza of gigantic proportions.

As we ate, I filled Sheila in on what happened at the job interview.

‘My God,’ said Sheila, ‘so your step-uncle or whatever is happy about you being a boy, notionally, I mean?’

‘I don’t know what you mean by notionally, but yes, he’s cool about the whole thing.’

‘When do you start?’

‘Tomorrow at 10.00 a.m’

‘So, are you going dressed as a boy?’

‘Um, no.’

‘Why not? They know about you now, and your new boss is cool about who you are. You don’t need to pretend anymore. Though I must admit you have taken to wearing girly stuff like a duck to water.’

I felt myself go red under my makeup. I crossed my stockinged legs under the table.

‘Erm, I want to go dressed as a girl.’

‘Good on you. I knew that you looked happier as a girl. More real and complete, I suppose.’

‘That’s it. I think that as a boy, I wasn’t up to much. I underachieved, was as shy as hell, nd I didn’t know where I was going. Now, although I have had more than a few problems on the way, I am happy as I am. That doesn’t mean that I want operations or anything yet. I am still new to this and I want to try before I buy, sort of thing, you know?’

‘Yep, you are right not to go the whole way until you are one hundred and ten percent happy that you want to be a girl for the rest of your life, now time is getting on and I am on shift in anhoure so I need to get home and changed into my uniform.’

‘Can I try it on?’

‘Pervert.’

We paid the bill and left the restaurant. Just two girls chatting away, as you do, and crossing the busy road full of cars, lorries, and kamikaze cyclists.

We ran across the road. One of my nice shiny heels got caught in a grating and I went crashing to the ground. There was a screech of brakes and a thudding sound. I also heard two screams, one was Sheila's and the other was mine. Then it all went black.