by P R Ellis
‘You can have three courses Sergeant – French onion soup, chicken in a cream sauce with vegetables and cheesecake.’
‘That sounds perfect.’
‘I don’t think you’ll want to eat in the dining room, now that the disco is on.’
Tom frowned. ‘No.’
‘You can get a table in the bar and I’ll get someone to bring it through to you there.’
‘Thank you, Camilla. That’s very good of you.’ Tom turned away and beckoned to Sasha. She stood up and joined him and they walked towards the bar. Tom glanced at his watch. Perhaps he would have time to eat before Wendy rang to say that Jasmine’s wedding dress was ready.
8
Jasmine parked the old Fiesta in her space but instead of making her way to her own flat walked instead to Viv’s. She pressed the doorbell. The door opened almost before the bell had stopped ringing.
Viv flung the door wide and beckoned Jasmine in. He held his arms wide ready to embrace her and greeted her with the mixture of Birmingham and Caribbean in his voice that she had grown to love.
‘Jas, what’s going on? What does Tom Shepherd want you for now?’ Jasmine stepped into his arms and kissed his lips. They were a similar height and build but she liked feeling his arms around her with his hands pressed against her bottom. At first it had felt strange to be embraced and kissed by a man but now it gave her a thrill of pleasure. She tasted spices on his mouth from his cooking.
‘I’m sorry I’m so late. I hope dinner isn’t spoiled,’ she said, feeling genuinely anxious about damaging Viv’s plans for the evening. When he released her, she took off her coat and dropped it onto the sofa.
‘No problem. It’s on hold, a stir fry, so won’t take more than a few minutes as soon as you’re ready to eat.’
‘I am, but I’m afraid I’ve got to go later.’
‘This job?’
‘Yes. I’ll explain.’
Viv released her from his enfolding arms ‘Go and get yourself sorted while I get things going. White wine with the chicken?’ He turned away then stopped and looked over his shoulder, ‘You do want a drink? If you’re on a job later…?’
‘I need a drink now, Viv. White will be great.’ She followed Viv through the living room, a smarter, tidier version of her own flat, but peeled off to the bathroom while he headed back to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, relieved, washed and make-up restored, she joined Viv in the kitchen where he was tossing pieces of chicken and vegetables in a frying pan. He nodded to a full glass of wine on the worktop. She lifted it to her lips and sipped. The smell and sizzle of the cooking, the taste of the wine, and the growing familiarity of just being with Viv gave her a sense of relaxation. For a few moments she put aside worries about what was expected of her over the coming weekend.
‘Come on then,’ Viv urged while shaking the frying pan, ‘What has Tom Shepherd got you involved with now?’
Jasmine related what Tom had told her about Vokins’ death and why she was needed, and then went on to describe her experience in the wedding boutique. Viv added peppers, other chopped vegetables and copious amounts of spices to his frying pan while Jasmine talked.
When Jasmine finished he took his attention off his cooking and looked at her. ‘I’d love to see you in that wedding dress.’
Jasmine was surprised. She had begun to think of the dress as just another disguise. ‘Why?’
‘I’m sure you’d look fantastic in a fitted white dress.’
‘Don’t you think it’s weird, men dressing up as brides, over and over again?’
Viv shrugged and returned to his stirring. ‘Yes, I suppose so, but you’re not a man and I was imagining you on your wedding day, walking down the aisle, looking radiant.’
Jasmine snorted. She felt she was a woman but knew that while her body was no longer fully male since she no longer had testicles, neither was she fully a woman – not by a long way.
‘I don’t think that’s likely to happen, Viv,’ she said.
Viv glanced at her again, a serious expression on his face. ‘Why not? There’s no law that says you shouldn’t have everything any girl can have.’
‘Okay, but who’s going to want to marry me?’ Jasmine shrugged her shoulders dismissively.
Viv didn’t say anything straight away but Jasmine saw a sadness on his face that surprised her. What was he thinking?
‘I’m sure there’ll be any number of men, or women for that matter, who’d like to shack up with you.’ He lifted the pan and moved sideways. ‘Now this is ready, let’s eat.’
Viv served the meal into two bowls. Jasmine picked up one and with her glass of wine in her other hand went into the living room where Viv had laid out the dining table. They sat opposite each other and began to eat. Jasmine relished the hot, spicy chicken and vegetables, her first real food of the day. Biscuits for lunch in the car and the cake in the coffee shop didn’t count as food.
‘I’ve got some news too,’ Viv said through a mouthful of chicken.
Jasmine’s heart stopped. He’s moving on, she thought. He’s spent a few months sorting out what the company needed doing in Kintbridge and now they’re sending him somewhere else.
‘What is it?’
‘I’ve signed a new contract.’
Jasmine looked down into her bowl. This was it. He was going. Over the three months they had known each other she had come to look forward more and more to being with him, to enjoy the cuddles and kisses – nothing more, yet. She didn’t want to be on her own again.
‘Oh,’ she said, holding back the sense of sadness that was welling up inside her.
‘Yes,’ Viv continued, ‘I’m taking on a permanent role here.’
It was a moment before the last word penetrated Jasmine’s brain. Then she felt a lifting, a lightness in her chest.
‘You’re not moving away?’
‘No, of course not. I don’t want to go anywhere else, but of course it means we can start looking around for another place.’
‘You mean, buy your own house.’
‘Yeah, get my own stuff out of storage at last.’
Jasmine recalled that he’d used the plural pronoun. ‘You said “we”.’
Viv smiled and looked at her intently. ‘Yes. I hope you’ll help in the house search, and I was thinking that perhaps you would share the place with me.’
Viv’s words were meaningless until Jasmine listened to them in her head a few times.
‘You mean you want me to live with you?’
Viv’s dark face was expectant. ‘Yes.’
‘Together?’
‘Yes.’
Jasmine couldn’t quite believe what he was suggesting. ‘You mean you’re offering to rent me a room.’
‘No, I was suggesting that we share as partners. I’d like that.’
Memories zipped through Jasmine’s mind. Her years of living with Angela, first as lovers, then married and then while they were separating and she had started transitioning. She had always felt comfortable having someone to come home to, to share meals with, to do things with, to make love to. Since being single her own flat, decrepit as it was, was just a place in which to crash out or to inhabit between jobs. Meeting Viv had banished the loneliness she had found in her single existence, struggling to make a living while going through the process of her gender reassignment. She looked forward more now to being with him than the increasingly infrequent meetings with Angela.
‘Partners? A couple? You mean sharing a bedroom, a bed…?’ There were some unavoidable moments when she couldn’t help revealing that she still had the physical appearance of a man, albeit one with small, but growing, breasts. Sharing a bed again was a big step.
Viv gave her his warm, understanding smile. ‘That’s up to you. I understand that at the stage you are at the moment you might prefer the privacy of your own bedroom. You know I’m not gay, and I love you as a woman.’
‘Love?’
‘Yes. I’m happy to use the word. I lo
ve you, Jasmine. I was hoping we could use some of this weekend to start looking at places and choose the kind of home we want to look for.’
Viv had been planning this for a week or more, Jasmine realised, since they had made plans for a weekend together. Now she, or rather Tom Shepherd, had spoiled it.
‘I’m sorry, Viv. If I’d known how much this weekend meant to you, I would have told Tom to stick his job.’
Viv shook his head. ‘No, I know that in your business timings are variable and I appreciate how much you want to do detective work so I have to accept Tom’s distractions. There’ll be other times we can go house-hunting. There’s no rush. Think about it.’
Jasmine felt relief and excitement. Viv actually wanted her, yes her, to live with. But sharing a bed? She could see herself wearing a diaphanous nightie and climbing in beside Viv; him reaching out for her, his hands caressing her. But then she remembered, (how could she forget?) the bits between her legs. She couldn’t bear the thought of Viv touching that part of her. No, sharing a bed was impossible until she had had her reassignment surgery. When would that happen? It could still be years. Would Viv wait that long?
‘I will,’ she said, the thoughts still circling in her mind.
‘How was the electrolysis?’
She had forgotten her earlier appointment. She raised her fingers to her lip which was tingling a little. ‘Oh, okay. You know how it is. I know it’s doing good but I wish it didn’t make me look so awful before and after.’
Viv peered at her. ‘You don’t look awful.’
‘But I have to leave a bit of my face unshaved for a day or two before and after. It feels a bit warm where Katie was working today. Does it look red?’ She dropped her hand leaned forward.
Viv squinted and examined the spot. ‘No; and the hair is barely visible. You’re so fair. Don’t worry about it. Soon you won’t have to worry at all about growing a beard.’
But I do have to worry about hair growth elsewhere, Jasmine thought, recalling Katie’s advice.
‘Ready for dessert?’ Viv asked seeing Jasmine’s empty plate.
‘Um, yes.’
Viv got up, stacked the plates and headed for the kitchen.
‘It’s a Jamaican-style fruit salad my mother got from my father,’ Viv said as he passed out of sight. He reappeared moments later carrying a large glass bowl. He placed it on the table and went again. Jasmine looked into the bowl seeing a variety of colours of fruit in immersed in a milky liquid. She smelled nutmeg amongst the fruit smells. She was looking forward to tasting the flavours.
Viv returned with a serving spoon and dishes. He began ladling the mixture into a bowl.
‘It’s got grapefruit and orange but I couldn’t get star apple, not even in Waitrose, so I put pineapple in instead.’
‘What’s the fruit in? Yogurt?’ Jasmine took the dish from Viv.
‘No, condensed milk. That along with the nutmeg is what makes it Jamaican. My grandmother, that’s my father’s mother, said it was called “Matrimony Pudding”.’
The name surprised Jasmine. ‘Why?’
‘I’ve got no idea.’
‘Did you choose it because of your plan for us to live together?’
Viv’s mouth opened. ‘Jesus. I never thought of that. I just thought you’d like a fruit salad.’
Jasmine smiled. She knew Viv wouldn’t have been so calculating as to plan a pudding to accompany his proposal. ‘It’s lovely; sweet but fruity,’ she said having savoured her first spoonful.
‘Glad you like it. Not everyone likes condensed milk these days. I suppose Matrimony Pudding is appropriate with you going off to be a bride.’
Jasmine glanced at her watch. ‘God. Yes, I’d almost forgotten. Tom will be turning up with the wedding dress sometime and expecting me to set off for the hotel. I’d better get off and pack a few bits.’
‘Take your time. Tom will give you a call if he finds you’re not at home. Finish your pudding, then we’ll wander over to your place.’
They chatted about inconsequential matters while they polished off the delectable fruit salad. When she had finished, Jasmine sighed and pushed her chair back.
‘That was wonderful, Viv, but I had better go now. What about the washing up?’
Viv shook his head. ‘I’ll sort that out after you leave. I had hoped for a cuddle on the sofa but the washing up will have to take its place.’ He chuckled. ‘Let’s get over to your flat and get you packed for your exciting weekend.’
Jasmine stood up, picked her coat and put it on. ‘Exciting? Dressing up as a bride?’
‘No, catching a murderer.’
They left Viv’s flat and set off across the carpark to Jasmine’s block. She diverted to her car and got out the bag from the wedding shop.
‘What’s in there?’ Viv asked, ‘I thought Tom was delivering the wedding dress.’
‘This is the other bits and pieces and an outfit for the real wedding on Sunday.’
‘Ah, that transsexual and the transvestite. I wonder which of them will wear the dress?’
‘Both I expect. A heterosexual wedding with two brides.’
‘Interesting,’ Viv said.
‘Perhaps, but I hope that by then we will have worked out which of the guests killed Vokins.’
They reached the door of Jasmine’s flat and entered. The living room felt cold and dismal compared to Viv’s flat.
‘Take a seat,’ Jasmine said, ‘I’ll go and pack.’ She walked on towards her bedroom.
‘Can I help?’
‘I don’t see how.’
She pulled out her one semi-decent suitcase from beside the wardrobe and put it on her single bed. Then she collected the various bottles of pills and moisturiser and foundation that she needed and dropped them in. Next was underwear including the white stockings that went with the wedding dress. She took the salmon-pink suit from the bag and laid it flat in the case. A knock on her front door sounded and she heard Viv go to open it.
‘Hi, Tom.’
‘Oh, hello, Viv.’
‘Come in.’ She heard as she hurried back to the living room. Tom stood in the centre of the room holding a large, white, cardboard box in his hands while Viv closed the door behind him.
‘Hi, Jas. I’ve got your wedding dress.’
‘So I see.’
‘Let’s have a look at it,’ Viv said, coming to form a triangle with Jasmine and Tom.
‘No, I’m not going to disturb it in its packaging,’ Jasmine said. She was reluctant to see the garment until she had to. ‘If you really want to I’ll show you when this is all over; before it goes back to the shop.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Viv said, grinning.
‘Are you ready to go?’ Tom asked looking at his watch, ‘It’s pretty late already.’
‘I’m just about packed.’
‘Good,’ Tom said but Jasmine could see him examining her. ‘I was wondering about a wig.’
‘Wig?’ Jasmine groaned. She hated wearing wigs over her blonde hair. She only did it when she needed a disguise.
Tom nodded. ‘Yes. You don’t want to be recognised. Remember Melody Woods, for one, is local.’
Jasmine recalled that she had used the same bridal shop. ‘Okay, I suppose I’ll have to wear one.’
‘It’ll help to make you look like a cross-dresser instead of a transsexual,’ Tom added.
‘Do I want to be a cross-dresser?’ Jasmine certainly sure she didn’t.
‘Most of the guests are. There’s only a few transsexuals,’ Tom said, ‘Oh, and your name is Sindy Stratford.’
Jasmine wrinkled her nose. ‘It sounds like a porn name – a pet and a street’
Tom giggled. ‘It is. It’s mine. It’s all I could think of when Belinda asked what name to put you down as. She thought Jasmine Frame may be familiar to some of them because of the newspapers.’
Jasmine nodded and sighed. Her short period of fame, or was it notoriety, was an inconvenience. ‘So, what was Sindy? A doll
?’
‘No, the dog I had when I was a kid, a collie when we lived on Stratford Road. She was very clever. I’ve no idea how she got her name.’
Jasmine sniffed. ‘Okay. I suppose it’s necessary, and it’ll have to do if Belinda already has it.’ Tom nodded and looked relieved that Jasmine hadn’t torn into him.
‘What’s your cover story then, Sindy?’ Viv asked smiling broadly.
Jasmine thought for a moment. ‘I’ll say I’ve come from Hastings.’
‘That’s where you were brought up, isn’t it?’ Tom said.
‘Yes. I’ll say I couldn’t get away from work until late afternoon.’
‘What job?’ Viv asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Local government; the council.’
‘That should be dull enough to stop conversation,’ Tom said. ‘I’d better be getting back to the hotel. With the ladies getting drunk, Sasha may be picking up snippets.’
Jasmine reached for Tom’s arm as he turned towards the door. ‘Hey, before you go, how are we going to share news?’
‘We can’t be seen chatting.’
‘I know that.’
‘Your room isn’t in the Pang Wing like the others, so I might be able to get to meet you there. Otherwise, keep your phone on and I’ll text you.’
‘I can’t be receiving messages every two minutes. That’ll attract attention.’
‘Keep it on silent, but give it a glance every so often. I’m sure you’ll have to pay visits to the powder room or whatever you ladies call it.’
‘The loo,’ Jasmine smiled, ‘Okay, we’ll find a way. Let’s hope that the killer gives him or herself away quickly.’
‘Yes, let’s. Take care. ‘Bye Viv. See you again.’ Tom let himself out and left. Viv closed the door.
‘Do you want me to run you to the Ashmore Lodge?’ Viv asked.
‘No, I need to book a taxi. I need to look as though I’ve come from the station. I can’t be seen getting out of a private car.’
‘Oh, yes. Okay, I’ll ring for one while you finish getting ready, Sindy.’
‘Stop calling me that.’
‘Don’t you need to get used to it?’
