Now I know I looked absolutely nothing like the Robert Carlisle she’d last seen off at the same airport over a year ago, so it was amusing seeing her looking me up and down. This time I was dressed in a dark skirt, high heels, a pale blouse and short jacket, instead of my one and only rather crumpled suit. My face had completely changed: my lips were fuller, cheekbones higher, forehead shaved and chin far more feminine; in particular as that lump of gristle of a nose had gone, replaced by a pert little number that really was the good Doctor’s piece de resistance. With my fair hair quite long now and make up as good as I could get it, there was no chance of anyone who knew Robert identifying me as the same person.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think so,” Sarah said, looking past me in the hope that her quarry would walk out and relieve her of this embarrassing situation.
“Oh come on, Sarah, didn’t Maryanne tell you to meet me?” I asked, in English this time, but still with a Canadian accent, which I found almost impossible to lose now.
She gaped at me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I used her name or Maryanne’s, but she stared closely at me, all of me, particularly the chest, but she kept coming back to my eyes.
There was a stunned silence as she tried to come to terms with what she was seeing. I decided to help her out.
“Julianna Blanchard,” I said, just to help her a little.
She looked at a scruffy piece of paper in her hand, and then nodded, her eyes taking on a distressed look.
I laughed at her discomfort.
“Okay, so I may have changed a little. Where’s the car?”
“A little? What the hell did they do to you?” she said, rather too loudly, for then she apologised and looked around to see if anyone noticed.
“Didn’t Maryanne tell you?” I asked as we made for the exit elevators to the car park
She shook her head, glancing at me and looking confused.
“Your eyes are almost the same, okay without the makeup, but, oh shit, you know what I mean,” she said, quite flustered.
I enjoyed her being so out of sorts, as the last time we met she had been infuriatingly sophisticated and distant.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I’ve made a reservation at the Grosvenor House Hotel for you.”
“What happened to my old flat and all the contents?” I asked as I pulled my case into the elevator. There was a couple in the lift with us, so we rode in silence to the fourth floor. Once we got out, she resumed the conversation.
“The agency bought it at auction, together with all the contents. You, you .. no, Robert died intestate with no next of kin,” she explained.
“Careless of him,” I said smiling.
“I don’t suppose you want the clothes any more?” she asked, with a small smile.
“No thanks. In fact I don’t think there was much there that I want any more. Perhaps some books and mementos of what I used to be.”
“Well, apart from some of the larger items of furniture, it’s all at the office in boxes, so you can rummage through when you want. Anything you don’t want will be either sold or chucked.”
“Thanks.”
“This is so strange. You have an account at the same bank, under your new name, of course. I think you’ll find there’s rather more in it than your old one. These are for you,” she said with a smile. She handed me a chequebook and card.
I took them and put them in my shoulder-bag. Then I followed her to the car. This time it was a BMW.
“New car?” I asked.
“The Audi is in for a service, this belongs to Dave, my boyfriend.”
“Ah, I didn’t think there would have been any hope for me,” I said with a smile. She had the grace to smile back.
“What does Dave do?”
“He’s in insurance.”
“Ah, dodgy business right now.”
“He’s okay; he’s in the marine division. The guys in pensions and investments are having a rough time,” she said, unlocking the car.
I put my case and holdall in the boot, before sliding into the passenger seat next to her, tugging my hem down and buckling up the seat belt. She stared at my varnished fingernails.
“My God, this is so strange. I mean, are you really the same person as..as, as …you know?” she asked, staring at me intently again.
“Robert Carlisle, ex-captain of Her Majesty’s armed forces? Yes, I’m afraid I am. But don’t get too upset, I’m actually far happier like this.”
“Did you know, I mean, were you, um, hell, was this something….?” she struggled to voice the question she was dying to ask.
“Was I aware that I was a transsexual? No. Did I know I should have been a woman? No. This is all rather weird, but it turns out that I don’t think I was ever aware of exactly who or what I should have been.”
“What happened?”
She set off, driving down the ever descending spiral out of the car park and onto the exit road from the airport. I then shared with her some of what had happened to me since we last saw each other. This time she drove slowly and carefully. I was uncertain whether this was because it was her boyfriend’s car or whether she wanted to hear the whole story and have time for questions afterwards. In any event, there was an accident on the elevated section of the M4, so we were in the car far longer than we should have been. As a result she got the whole story. When I finished I was shocked to see tears in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry. In a way, I feel that it was partly my fault. I must have been a real bitch that day, you know, when we went to the airport,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it. On the scheme of things, you were fine. I do, however, have issues with some of the interpersonal skills of the guards at the prison.”
She laughed then, her whole disposition had altered, giving her a much more open and friendly appearance.
“It must have been awful.”
“I try not to think about it too much, but I still have the occasional nightmare.”
“I’d never have recognised you, not in a million years. I mean, even your voice has changed so much. If it’s any consolation, I think you look amazing; so pretty and glamorous. How did you learn to do the accent?”
“Practice.”
“You’re amazing.”
I felt my cheeks reddening. “Thanks, but don’t make me blush, as I’m trying to get used to being a girl.”
“You don’t seem to be having much of a problem. I can’t really believe this. Can I be cheeky and ask a personal question?” she said.
“I think I know what you want to know. Men, I think.”
“Were you, you know, gay, before?”
“No.”
“So how can you be sure you like men now?”
“Because a few weeks ago the most beautiful model propositioned me and I turned her down to go to dinner with a hunky New Zealander instead.”
“Oh!”
“And before you ask, no I haven’t, not yet, as I’ve only had the right equipment a few weeks and no opportunity to try it out.”
“You mean… everything?” she asked, risking a glance at my groin.
“Oh yes, everything, or rather almost. I can’t conceive or bear a child, so perhaps there’s an advantage in not having the curse.”
“This is surreal!” she said with a grin. She pulled onto the forecourt of the hotel and a uniformed doorman opened my door. A few minutes later, we were being shown a luxurious suite overlooking the park.
“This is nice,” I said, tipping the bellboy.
“Maryanne insisted you have the best for at least a week.”
“And then?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. I think she thought you’d want to take a walk down memory lane and put a few demons to bed this week. I’m here to give you any help you might need. All I know is she’s flying in at the end of the week and hopefully she’ll tell you what’s happening.”
“Memory lane, eh?” I asked, staring out at the rain drenched traffic and the lush green park beyond.