by P R Ellis
Now the answer to the big question: what to wear to impress Angela and her man? What was his name? She’d forgotten. The weather had improved and it was now a warm and pleasant summer evening. She looked in her wardrobe. It was no contest really. Following the trannie-killer case she had been a little better off so had treated herself to something new and just a little more expensive than usual. It was a gorgeous Zara sleeveless dress, in a purple and white print. She pulled it over her head and the hem dropped to just above the knee. The dress flared out from the waist, which made her look more shapely than she really was, and had a high-ish neckline which hid her lack of cleavage. Spinning in front of the mirror she felt properly feminine. Next, make-up. This always took time and this evening she made sure that the tender pink bruise on her chin didn’t show. Finishing with her favourite Maybelline red lipstick, she brushed her hair and put on some dangly silver earrings. She glanced at her watch, seven-forty. Okay, just time to get to Whitclere by around eight.
In the living room she searched for her bag, dropped her phone into it and drew out her car keys. A sudden shiver of apprehension passed through her. She was going out to a smart pub, mixing with other people who would look at her, perhaps eye her up, but that wasn’t the cause of her nervousness. In the years since she had started going out as Jasmine, and since she had started her transition, she had grown used to being looked at and she had become fairly successful at portraying the young woman she felt that she really was. There was something else that was disturbing her. It wasn’t meeting Angela. No, it was the fact that Angela was going to be with another guy. Her former partner and lover, her ex-wife, was bringing a man to meet her. For the first time since Angela had first rung to tell her, Jasmine wondered why. Angela didn’t need her approval to go out with another man - after all, they had been divorced for about three months now. There was another reason for this evening’s little gathering and, despite her uneasiness, she was going to find out what it was. Jasmine pulled the door closed behind her.
Her old Fiesta looked out of place between the Audis, Jags and BMWs in the car park of the country inn, but she didn’t feel any jealousy. She was just glad to be herself. A glance in the mirror to check her lipstick reassured her and she stepped out of the car, smoothing the front of her dress. Jasmine recalled that she and Angela had visited the pub once before. It had been James accompanying Angela on that occasion, perhaps one of the last times that she and Angela had gone out as a male and female couple. A poignant smile flickered across her face at that memory.
She entered the pub and wondered where Angela would be. It was just past eight so there was no doubt that she would have already arrived. She was never late. The bar was spacious and not very busy and she soon spotted Angela waving at her from a leather chair by a window. She had obviously been looking out at the car park awaiting her arrival. As Jasmine approached, Angela got up and flung her arms around Jasmine. They kissed each other on the lips.
‘It’s lovely to see you, Jas. It’s been a while,’ Angela said, stepping back to examine her. ‘You look great. I love that dress on you. I haven’t seen it before. Is it new?’
‘Yes, it is, from Zara. I thought I deserved a treat and it wasn’t that expensive.’ She didn’t want to give the impression that she was spending more money than she had on clothes. Angela gave an understanding smile and turned to the man sitting beside her.
‘This is Luke.’
He stood up and towered a good six inches above Jasmine and Angela. Luke looked to be a few years older – mid-thirties perhaps. He had short brown hair and brown eyes. A frequent visitor to the gym, Jasmine thought, examining and admiring his slim build. He raised a short-sleeved arm offering his hand. His arm was quite hairy. She couldn’t remember when she’d last had hairs on her arms, or legs. Perhaps Luke was hairy all over? She had a sudden vision of Angela naked in Luke’s bear-like embrace and shuddered. Why did the image appal her? Was it the hair or the thought of any man getting close to Angela?
Luke’s hand closed around Jasmine’s and squeezed – hard. Jasmine retaliated with her own firm grasp. Competitive handshaking is it, she thought. Is it a conscious thing or does he do it to every person he meets? She looked into his face. A smile hovered on his lips, but that was all. His eyes stared at her - testing her.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said. Jasmine noted he did not use her name. ‘Angela has told me all about you.’
‘Oh, she has, has she?’ Jasmine said trying to keep her tone light. Had she really told him everything that they had done and discussed over the last ten years?
‘You know what he means,’ Angela giggled. ‘Why don’t you get Jasmine a drink, Luke.’
‘Of course. I’ll be the gentleman,’ Luke replied with another of his mouth-only smiles. ‘What will it be?’
‘A white wine spritzer, please,’ Jasmine replied, ‘with ice.’
‘Ah, a girly drink,’ Luke said, departing for the bar.
Jasmine settled into the third chair facing Angela.
‘So, who is he?’ Jasmine whispered. Angela leant forward.
‘I’ve known him a few years. He’s an accountant too and we’re both in asset management. A few weeks ago we met up at a conference in London and got chatting.’
‘Just chatting?’
‘Well, no. I suppose after our divorce went through I felt something of a release and a need for a bit more. Do you understand, Jas?’
Jasmine knew that she should but it was so difficult to let go of her feelings for Angela – the only woman she had ever loved or made love to. Perhaps if they had not stayed together so long she would have transitioned sooner, but on the other hand, without Angela’s support she may never have had the confidence to embark on her journey towards womanhood.
‘Of course, Ange.’ She hoped it sounded genuine.
‘I knew you would. So, what’s your news? Are you working?’
‘Yes, I’m on an investigation.’
‘Not looking for lost cats or snooping on wayward husbands?’ Angela giggled.
Jasmine knew she meant it as a joke but it rankled a bit since that was exactly what she’d been doing until a few weeks ago.
‘No, some benefits fraud cases and now I’m on a murder.’
‘Another one! Not with Tom and Sloane?’
‘Well, yes, actually.’
‘Really? Well, take care of yourself. You nearly had it the last time.’
Jasmine could see there was genuine concern in Angela’s face.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after myself.’ The memory of what the trannie killer had wanted to do to Jasmine was far too fresh in her mind. ‘Oh, and I’m going to have…’
‘Here you are. One white wine spritzer.’ Luke leaned over Jasmine’s shoulder and put the tall glass in her hand, ‘and here are the menus. The waiter will be along in a minute.’
Luke took his seat while handing around the heavy leather-bound folders. Jasmine flicked the pages, glancing at the prices and groaning inwardly.
‘This is on us,’ Angela said quietly.
‘Thanks,’ Jasmine replied. ‘The prices are a bit more than I can afford at the moment.’
‘Detective work not paying well?’ Luke said in, Jasmine noticed, a rather snide tone. ‘I thought it was all brown envelopes shoved in your pocket, or handbag I suppose in your case.’
‘It’s all above board these days,’ Jasmine said, as chattily as she could manage, ‘but it takes a while to build up a client base.’
‘Like in any business,’ Angela added, smiling encouragingly.
The waiter approached and took their orders: a stereotypical steak for Luke; a complex fish dish for Angela; and Jasmine settled for a simple but filling chicken casserole. She was going to take advantage of the free meal.
‘Let’s go to the Ladies, Jas, while we’re waiting,’ Angela said rising to her feet, ‘I need the loo.’ She grabbed her handbag and headed off.
‘That’s right,’ Luke whispered to Jasm
ine as she leant forward to reach for her own bag, ‘Go and use the Ladies, you pervert.’ Jasmine straightened, suddenly not sure she had heard what she thought she had heard, but the look on Luke’s face confirmed his sneering disgust. Jasmine turned and hurried after Angela.
The Ladies was large with at least two free cubicles. Jasmine locked the door of hers, dropped her knickers and sat. She found herself shaking. Could it be that Angela’s new man hated her? Every action he had made seemed to suggest, it although Angela appeared not to have noticed. She heard Angela’s flush go and she hurried to restore her bits into their place and join her at the wash basins.
‘Is Luke happy about meeting me here this evening?’ Jasmine asked while holding her hands under the running tap.
‘Yes, of course, he told me he wanted to meet you. Why? Are you uncomfortable with me being with another man? I do understand why it might be difficult for you.’
‘No, it’s not that.’ Yes, it jolly well is, Jasmine thought, drying her hands. ‘It’s just that some men find trannies threatening, you know.’
‘Luke? No. I don’t think he’d find anything threatening. He’s a modern guy.’
No, but he might be a threat, Jasmine thought and not as modern in his outlook as Angela might think. They stood beside each other looking into the mirror while swiping on lipstick.
‘Look, Ange, there’s something I’d like to say.’
‘What’s that, Jas?’
‘I’m…’
The door opened and a middle-aged woman entered, glanced at the two of them and headed into a cubicle.
‘What?’ Angela asked.
‘Um, I’m really pleased you’re having some fun with Luke.’ Damn, she couldn’t go blabbing about her testicles with the other woman listening in behind the door of the loo.
‘Well, thank you, Jasmine. We’d better get back to him or he’ll be getting lonely.’
As they returned to the bar, Luke was rising from his seat.
‘God, what do you get up to in there? The waiter has called us to our table.’ He led the way into the crowded restaurant. The waiter stood by an empty table. Luke dutifully ensured that Angela was sitting comfortably before moving to his own seat. Jasmine sat down beside Angela.
They ate and chatted about inconsequential matters. Jasmine was getting more and more concerned that she had had no opportunity to mention her operation next Monday but she felt reluctant with Luke sitting there. She hoped that he too would pay a visit to the loo but, despite sinking a second pint of beer, he stayed in his seat.
They were eating their desserts when there was a birdlike trill from Angela’s bag. She muttered an expletive and dug in the bag for her phone. She glanced at the screen.
‘Sorry, I’ve been waiting for this call; it’s an important one. I was hoping to get it before we came out.’ She got to her feet and walked out of the restaurant with the phone pressed to her ear.
Luke put his spoon down and leaned forward.
‘I’m glad this has given us an opportunity for a little chat, just the two of us,’ he said in a low voice that was almost a whisper.
‘Really?’ Jasmine wondered what on earth he could mean.
‘Yeah. Look, Angela’s a fantastic girl and I’m really getting on well with her, but she apparently still has some feelings for you. I don’t understand why, the things that you’ve done, you trannie queer. But I’m telling you this. You keep away from her, stop bothering her and I’ll let you be.’
A knot of anger grew in Jasmine’s chest, but she wasn’t sure how to respond to his threat.
She found her voice, ‘Look I don’t know what it is that Angela sees in you but she is free to do what she likes. I don’t “bother” her, but I think she still wants us to be friends.’
‘Well, you won’t be when I’ve put her right about you, you cock-teasing apology for a man.’
‘I’m a woman.’
‘Don’t give me that! You’ve got a cock between your legs! I expect you want the NHS to cut that off for you and give you tits and a girly voice and whatever else you want done. Design a new body for you - is that it?’
‘I …’ Jasmine couldn’t think of words to respond. Luke had distorted all her desires into a sordid-sounding perversion.
‘Have it all done. You’ll still be a bloke with male chromosomes.’
‘It’s not all about chromosomes.’
‘You’ll still look like a faggot in drag.’ Luke’s face was contorted into a snarl and she thought that if the room hadn’t been full he would have spat at her. She pulled her napkin from her lap, reached down for her bag and stood up.
‘I’m not going to stay any longer to be insulted by you, even if Angela thinks we can all be friends.’ She was half aware that diners at the adjacent tables were looking at her. ‘I hope Angela realises what a bigoted bully you are before too long!’ She strode off swinging her bag over her shoulder and marched out of the pub straight to her car. There was no sign of Angela.
She drove down the road away from Whitclere with her hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel, her jaw muscles taut and her eyes forced to stay open because one blink would set the tears flowing and then she wouldn’t be able to see the road. What had happened? Luke was a fucking transphobe. That much was obvious; jealous of the affection between her and Angela that still existed despite their divorce and increasingly separate lives. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. The wanker was obviously going to do his utmost to prevent the contact between them continuing, and she hadn’t even told Angela about her impending operation. She still had no one to collect her from the London hospital.
Jasmine had to slow down as a tear escaped and obscured her vision. She couldn’t lose Angela’s friendship, she was the only person who really understood what she had gone through in the last ten years. She mustn’t let Luke ruin that. But if Angela liked the man, loved him even, what right did she have to come between them?
Jasmine pulled up in her parking spot, turned off the engine, leaned on the steering wheel and sobbed. She had never, ever felt as alone as she did now.
6
SATURDAY
Jasmine lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Had she slept? It didn’t feel like it. Another sleepless night. The things Luke had said kept going round in her head. Could it be that she was like Xristal and Honey? Seeking surgery to shape her body to the design she wanted? The thought of knives cutting into her flesh made her shiver, despite the cosy duvet, but she needed those operations to give her the body that she imagined was hers already. How was she different to Xristal and Honey? Well, neither Xristal, nor presumably Honey, were taking the hormones to turn them into women. They exulted in their continued masculinity, while delighting in their sculpted feminine shape. She was not like that, Jasmine told herself, and the thought of having an erection appalled her. No, whatever Luke had said, the work that she needed to have done on her body was to correct the defects she was born with - she was a woman while Xristal and Honey were she-males.
Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. The caller was Tom and the time was only 7 a.m. She tried to sound bright and cheerful, but she knew the night-long depression put an edge on her voice.
‘Hey, Tom, this is an early call for a Saturday. What about the weekend?’
‘Weekend? What’s that? Surely you remember that we don’t have days off when there’s a case to solve.’
Jasmine did recall those adrenalin-stoked times when days passed without noticing. She missed them.
‘So, has something happened?’
‘No, nothing really. Are you OK? You sound a bit rough.’
Rough? If only the cause was something as simple as a heavy evening on the booze while having a good time with friends.
‘Just a bit down. Tell you sometime. Why the call if there’s nothing to report?’
‘Well, that’s it. Sloane’s called a case conference as we don’t appear to be getting anywhere.’
‘I admit progress is slo
w, but it’s only been a couple of days.’
‘That’s long enough for Sloane. He needs to decide what priority to give the Newman case.’
‘Priority?’
‘You know, Jasmine. If it’s just a case of a prostitute coming to a sticky end then it’s not worth much time and money.’
‘Xristal wasn’t a common whore, dosed up on heroin or cocaine, done over in some dark alley. She was in her own flat, on no drugs at all and contemplating gender reassignment.’
‘Well, that’s your conclusion. You have a point that you can put to Sloane.’
‘At the case conference?’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Eight.’
‘Less than an hour?’
‘That’s right. Don’t be late. You’ll make Sloane cross.’
‘He’s always cross. Why does he want me there?’
‘Have you forgotten? You’re our special advisor on this case.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘I’ll let you get ready. See you soon, Jas.’ The call clicked off leaving Jasmine staring at the screen. Sloane wanted her back in her old office, not just for a conversation with him or with Tom, but in a meeting. There would be the other officers to face, some of whom she may have known back when she was James and others she did not know at all but who, she was sure, would have been briefed about her. She felt a bit faint, the nausea for once not just caused by her drugs which, she remembered, she needed to take.
She leapt from the bed and took the tablets from their blisters, swallowing them quickly and gulping down the warm water from the glass she kept on the dressing table. Her tired eyes stared out of the mirror. Was there any point in dwelling on last night? Was this the way to build a career? Lying at home moping wouldn’t do any good. She had to get out there, show that she was on top of the case, and that she didn’t care what others thought. Emboldened, she ran to into the shower cubicle, washed quickly and dried herself, then pulled on her underwear. She dragged the curtains back and gazed outside. The cheerful summer evening and warm night had become a damp and dreary morning – a bit like her mood. Facing Sloane and his team this morning she would have to be business-like. She pulled on a white blouse and the little-used grey suit with the knee-skimming skirt purchased for these occasions. It was a little warm for high summer, but she could take the jacket off if the temperature rose in Sloane’s company.
