by P R Ellis
‘Shall I help you?’ Jasmine asked, bending beside her. The press at the bar lessened as other ladies gave them room.
‘Yes, please,’ Tammy said getting an arm around Samantha under her armpits, ‘We’d better get her up to our room. I wasn’t expecting to spend the night nursing a drunk.’
Together they hauled the semi-conscious cross-dresser to her feet and dragged her towards the exit. A path opened up for them with a chorus of cheers from the merrymaking madams. They got to the lift which took them up to the Pang Wing and then helped her, stumbling, along the corridor to their room. Tammy waved her keycard at the lock and they staggered into the room dropping Samantha onto the first of the single beds.
‘Well, I think that’s the choice of beds sorted,’ Tammy said.
‘Shall we put her to bed,’ Jasmine asked.
‘I’m not undressing her,’ Tammy snorted, ‘Hmm, but I suppose we should get those ridiculous shoes off her before she ruins the sheets.’ They lifted Samantha’s legs onto the bed and each took a foot, removing the high-heeled platforms. ‘It won’t do her wig much good lying on it,’ Tammy went on. She lifted Samantha’s head and tugged the wig off. There was thinning grey hair beneath revealing Samantha’s true age.
‘We’d better put her in the recovery position,’ Jasmine said, ‘in case she vomits.’ Tammy stood by as Jasmine rolled the somnolent cross-dresser on to her side with her head close to the edge of the bed.
‘I hope she doesn’t throw up,’ Tammy said, ‘I don’t want to sleep with that stink.’
‘Are you going to keep an eye on her?’ Jasmine said placing the waste paper bin beneath Samantha’s lolling head.
Tammy sighed, ‘I suppose so. The daft bugger. I’m a bit knackered myself. It’s been a long day.’
‘Where have you come from?’
‘Newcastle. It was a hell of journey down to London and out again.’
‘You got here late then?’
‘Well, later than the rest of the girls. It was gone five. Not as late as you though. You weren’t at dinner.’
Jasmine felt that she had to do give some explanation. ‘Oh, I couldn’t leave Hastings till after work.’
‘Did you travel, dressed?’
‘Yes.’ Jasmine wondered whether that would put a question mark over her status as a part-time cross-dresser.
‘Good for you. I didn’t dare. Being coloured and trans makes me a two-fold target. Samantha used to arrive in drab or get changed somewhere on the way – until her wife found out.’
‘You’ve known her a while then?’
‘Oh, yes. All the Belles know each other well. We’ve all had this wedding dress thing for a few years. That’s why you are such a surprise. I think Freddie was our most recent new member.’
‘Freddie?’
‘Freddie Derham or Flamboyancé as he calls himself. Our gay member. More of a drag queen. He’s here with his partner, Robbie. He’s all man, not trans at all.’
‘What did Valerie think about having a gay member?’
‘Hated it, of course, but she’d accept anyone to keep the numbers up. Didn’t mean that she made them welcome though.’
Jasmine was beginning to wonder if Vokins got on with any of the Wedding Belles. They all had a grudge against him but which of them felt it strongly enough to commit murder?
‘Well, it’s great to meet you, and Samantha,’ Jasmine nodded at the sleeping form on the bed. ‘I think I’ll head for my bed. I hope you don’t have a disturbed night.’
‘So do I. I’ll see you at breakfast. Not sure that she’ll make it though.’
Jasmine returned to her room which necessitated taking the lift to the ground floor of the Pang Wing then walking back to the entrance to the Kennet Lounge to take the lift up to her floor. She considered using the stairs but her feet were aching in her high-heels.
Safely locked in her room she sank onto the bed and pulled off her wig and shoes. She gave her head a good scratching. How she hated wearing a wig for a long period. The bass still thumped through the walls so some, if not most, of the ladies were still partying. How did they do it, she asked herself.
She took off her dress and rolled her tights down her legs. Then stood in front of the full-length mirror in her knickers and bra. How to dress for bed? Now that wasn’t a question she had considered. She was alone and didn’t expect to be disturbed but what if, and it was an unlikely if, another of the delegates called on her. She needed to be prepared. Being herself she’d keep her tight knickers on, hiding the hated appendage away between her legs, and she had some breast tissue now so she could perhaps get away with throwing a dressing gown around her naked torso. She might keep her bra on with her enhancers in to reinforce her feminine figure. But she was supposed to be Sindy the transvestite, a man who liked to dress as a female. Perhaps “he” would let it all hang out under a dressing gown. She sighed and decided to stick with the first option. The fluffy dressing gown that the hotel provided would cover up most things.
She undid her bra and let the false breasts fall into her hands. They were put in a drawer in the bedside table. Then she went into the bathroom and washed off her make up. Looking in the mirror she examined her lip where Katie had zapped a couple of dozen hair follicles. It felt a little tender and was pale pink. Jasmine hoped her skin would be back to normal by morning and she could shave normally but this fortnightly torture (was that too strong a word?) that left her face blotchy and sore reinforced her feeling that transition was taking far longer than she had expected. She was towelling her face when her phone rang.
‘Hi, Tom,’ She said having retrieved the mobile from her bag and noted the caller.
‘Hi, um, Sindy. How’s it going? Can you talk?’
‘Yes, I’m in my room. I’ve come to bed. Where are you?’
‘I’m in the car in the hotel car park. I’ve left Sasha on duty for a few hours. I’m going to get some kip then relieve her. Thought I’d see how you were getting on. I expected you to be still partying with the rest of the gang.’
‘I’m pretty tired actually and things kick off early in the morning, eight o’clock breakfast. I’ve met most of the Belles, and put one of them to bed.’
Tom chuckled at the other end of the phone. ‘Who was that?’
‘Samantha. Irish.’
‘Patrick Nolan.’
‘That’s it,’ Jasmine recalled the name from the list Tom had given her.
‘Why did he need you?’
‘He was drunk. I helped his room-mate, Tammy, afro-Caribbean.’
‘Clive Walsh. Are they close friends as they share a room?’
‘They’re friendly but I think Vokins dumped them on each other. Neither has a good word to say about him other than his dedication to the Belles.’
‘Nolan was the one who had the row with Vokins this afternoon.’
‘Yes, I haven’t got the full story out of Samantha yet but it seems Vokins outed her and now her wife is seeking a divorce.’
‘So he has a motive.’
‘Yes, but so do all of them I’ve met so far. Vokins pissed them all off at one time or another.’
‘Well, it seems you’ve made a start at getting to know them,’ Tom said.
‘But I don’t have any clue to the killer.’
‘Keep an open mind until the clues come along.’
‘Thanks for the tip.’ Jasmine hoped her sarcasm crossed the ether to Tom’s phone.
‘Right, well I’ll get off. We’ll catch up some time tomorrow.’
‘Okay, Tom. Hold it. You said Patel was staying here. Where?’
‘She’s just gone up to keep watch on Vokins suite.’
‘Inside or outside.’
‘Outside. We don’t want to contaminate the crime scene yet. She’ll have to spend the night in the corridor.’
‘Lucky girl. The Belles will see her when they return to their rooms.’
‘Yes. She’ll have to give them a story about the inquest in suicide cases re
quiring that the room is kept secure for twenty-four hours or so.’
‘I don’t think they’ll care tonight. Most of them will have had a fair amount to drink I think.’
‘Enjoying themselves?’
‘I think so. As I said, I don’t think they’re too upset by Vokins’ death although her “suicide” is a surprise.’
‘Well, let’s hope one of them makes a slip tomorrow. I’ll let you get your beauty sleep before your wedding.’
Jasmine shivered. ‘Don’t call it that! It’s a bit of play-acting that’s all.’
‘But these guys take it seriously?’
‘That I’ll find out tomorrow. ‘Night, Tom.’
‘’Night.’
11
The dining room looked completely different in the grey light of a November morning. The curtains had been drawn back to reveal the wide, tall windows giving a view of the gardens and tennis courts behind the hotel. The cloths had been removed from the circular wooden tables and the DJ’s kit had been packed up neatly on the stage. A faint odour of stale perfume and sweat lingered but the noise of the previous evening’s disco was replaced by a murmur of chat and the clatter of cutlery on plates and dishes.
Jasmine paused to take in the scene as she entered the room. It seemed that a sizeable proportion of the Butterflies had already thrown off tiredness from the exertions of the night before and fallen eagerly on the breakfast buffet. She was interested to see that there were a number of male figures amongst the hotel guests. Not all the convention delegates took every opportunity to dress in women’s clothes. She had been unsure what clothes to put on for breakfast. Wearing a wedding dress didn’t seem sensible and yesterday’s party dress wasn’t appropriate either. She didn’t have any male clothes to bring but had thrown into her case a simple patterned cord skirt and long sleeved t-shirt. Apart from having to wear the wig again, she felt normal, but what was considered normal amongst the cross-dressers of the Butterfly Society and the Wedding Belles? She presumed that she would find out.
She surveyed the assembly for the Belles and noticed Melody making her way from the buffet to a table. Jasmine weaved through the diners to join her, pleased to see that Melody too was wearing a simple skirt and blouse. Does that make me look too much like a TS? Jasmine thought. Does a cross-dresser always dress to impress? Melody put her plate on the table and sat next to a man with short, neat brown hair. Jasmine stared for a moment before she realised that it was Geraldine, or rather Gerald, in male form. Next to him was a man with grey, receding hair. He looked up from his dish of corn flakes and milk as Jasmine approached.
‘Ah, Sindy. Good morning. Collect what you want from the buffet bar. There’s all sorts.’ Jasmine recognised Petula’s voice despite it being in its proper register, and struggled to recall his real, male name. Richard Edwards finally popped into her mind.
‘Good morning. How is Sally?’ Jasmine said.
‘Oh, she’s fine. A bit slow to get going in the morning but I’ll take her up some breakfast shortly. I will let you know the programme before I go though.’ Jasmine had the feeling that Petula/Richard wanted her to hurry.
‘Good morning, Melody, Gerald,’ she said, getting an answering mumble from full mouths before hastening to the buffet to select her own breakfast. The array of heated trays of cooked breakfast items, huge bowls of cereals and mueslis, and plates of pastries and breads gave her more choice than she needed. Until her recent operation, she had often felt nauseous in the morning, a symptom caused by her feminisation medication, so her breakfasts were usually light. Another reason was that she rarely had a well-stocked larder or fridge to provide much variety. The opportunity to indulge was tempting but she restrained herself to a croissant and added an individual container of strawberry jam to her plate. She picked up a glass of orange juice and returned to the Wedding Belles’ table.
Another couple had joined the group, a well-built man in his forties with thick, but short dark hair, and a short, plump, blonde woman who if it wasn’t for their different hair colour might have been a sister of Melody.
‘Join us, Sindy,’ said Gerald, not introducing the other couple.
‘Hello. We didn’t meet last night.’ Jasmine said, nodding to the pair before putting her plate and tumbler down and sitting next to the woman.
The woman smiled at her and spoke. ‘Hello, I’m Emma and this is Matthew, my husband, although you’ll see him as Donna later. This is your first weekend?’
‘Yes,’ Jasmine answered.
Emma examined her. ‘Are you full-time?’
Jasmine looked around the table and realised that none of the men present were dressed as women but they were all looking at her and waiting for her reply. ‘Um, no. I’m just making the most of being here.’
‘Jolly good,’ Gerald said, ‘So would I except I’m taking a male role today. I’m giving away the brides.’
‘Gerald thought that being a bride on two days was a bit much,’ Melody said, smiling at her fiancé.
‘If I could interrupt and get to business,’ Richard Edwards said. ‘I need to get back to Sally and start my preparations.’ He leafed through some papers attached to a clipboard that lay on the table beside his plate.
‘Of course, Richard,’ Matthew Preston said through a mouthful of fried bacon.
‘This is mainly for Sindy’s benefit,’ Edwards continued.
Emma Preston turned again to face Jasmine. ‘Oh, are you a Belle?’
‘Yes, darling, I told you last night,’ Matthew said, ‘I don’t know what Vernon was doing. I haven’t received your payment, uh, Sindy. It was Belinda who told me there was an extra attendee.’
Emma turned back to her husband. ‘Oh, yes, I remember now, Matt. You said you’d have to re-do your accounts for the weekend.’
‘Yes, of course, I have to keep them in order for Vernon to …. oh, I forgot for a moment. Vernon isn’t with us anymore.’
Jasmine looked around at the faces of the Belles, jolted into silence by Matthew’s recall of Vokins’ death. Each one of them seemed embarrassed and unwilling to comment but Jasmine could not detect any expressions of guilt on their faces.
After a few moments, Richard broke the silence. ‘Yes, well I have to take responsibility for the weekend events now.’ He looked across the table at Jasmine. ‘The weddings begin at noon, Sindy, but the brides who are taking part assemble in the seminar room at eleven o’clock.’
‘Seminar room?’ Jasmine asked.
‘The small room closest to the entrance to the Pang Wing Conference Suite.’ Richard answered.
‘We are all dressed in our wedding dresses by then?’ Jasmine said.
‘Of course,’ Richard replied as if it was obvious. ‘And you do have your recording with you?’
‘Recording?’ Jasmine had no idea what he was talking about.
‘The music for your entry. You should have it on a CD or a memory stick.’
‘Should I?’
‘I can’t believe that Vernon didn’t tell you. He really must have been losing it. First of all he lets you in as a late applicant and then doesn’t give you all the information. Quite out of character.’
‘I’m sorry. Perhaps he sent it to me in an email which I didn’t receive,’ Jasmine said trying to think of a reason why she may not have been fully informed.’
‘That must have been the case,’ Richard went on, ‘If you had booked at the correct time Vernon would have made sure that you had sent in your selected music. Now we have a problem. Sally will have to repeat the music from the bride before you. Now what will that be?’ He looked through his papers until he found the sheet he was looking for. ‘Ah yes, that’s it. I added you to the end of the proceedings when I was told of your addition last evening, Sindy. You will follow, Flamboyancé.’ The name was said with an inflection of distaste. ‘She’s coming in to “The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba”.’
‘Well, she is a raging queen,’ Gerald said to accompanying titters from Melody.
Jasmine shrugged. She had never given a thought to what music she would have for her entry as a bride. Angela had had the familiar Bridal March at their wedding. But perhaps she should have shown more eagerness and preparation for her first experience of being a Belle.
‘That will be fine,’ she said as excitedly as possible. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t know how much work went into this event but I’m so looking forward to being a bride.’
‘Don’t we all,’ Richard said, ‘Well, that’s alright then. As I said you will come in last, escorted by Gerald. Robbie is playing the part of your groom as he is for the rest of us. You will exchange your vows…’
‘Vows?’ Jasmine said.
‘Oh, don’t tell me you don’t know about that either,’ Richard said.
‘Each of the brides has a short exchange with the groom and the Rev. Just silly promises.’ Matthew explained.
‘Promises?’ Jasmine said, still not understanding.
‘Things like we promise to wear frilly knickers at least once a week,’ Gerald said to giggles from around the table.’
‘Just say “I do”,’ Melody said. ‘It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a laugh.’
‘Vernon took it seriously,’ Richard said.
Gerald snorted, ‘He took everything seriously.’
‘I’ll go over it with you at eleven,’ Richard said.
Jasmine felt relief that she would be guided through the proceedings. ‘Thanks.’
‘Then at the end of the ceremony,’ Richard continued, ‘the brides are escorted out by Robbie, and we move outside for the photographs or into the reception area if it is wet.’
Emma sighed, ‘And then eventually we get to have lunch.’
‘The Wedding Breakfast,’ Richard corrected.
‘Are you going to make a speech, Richard?’ Melody asked.
Richard was horror-struck. ‘The speech! I forgot Vernon’s speech.’ He stood up grasping his clipboard. ‘I must get back to Sally and write something. How could I forget Vernon’s speech?’
‘Well, it’s usually pretty forgettable,’ Gerald said, ‘It’ll be nice to hear someone different for a change.’ Richard hurried off, leaving the occupants of the table giggling.
