Dreamer Part 3

By Tanya Allan
Original Version Copyright © 1972
Revised version Copyright © 2012

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Philip Coates is seventeen and convinced that he is not only trapped in a boarding school for boys, but also trapped in the wrong body. He spends most of his time lost in a world of his imagination. In this world he is the girl he always wanted to be. The girl who screams at him to set her free in every minute of every waking hour, and most of the sleeping ones as well.

Trapped in a social square hole, he becomes simply what everyone - parents, friends, teachers - want and expect him to be. He knows that he wants to be a round peg, but will, in reality, never make it.

Well, he wakes up one morning convinced that his dream might just be coming true.. or is it?

The signs are there, but then again, are there other explanations for what he is going through?

After a rough few days, the girl is set free.

The future is now gloriously uncertain and fresh, as she sets out on a journey, turning her back on her school, her friends and her old home.....

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My thanks to PEGLEG for help with proofing

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Dreamer Part 3

By Tanya Allan

We arrived in Edinburgh at about three thirty, so I got hold of a map of the city from the ticket office. We set off for the youth hostel that was just off the city centre.

It was in an old building up a narrow side street in the old part of the town, not far from the castle.

A balding man was on duty in the office. He was in his fifties, and was initially quite brusque but as he relaxed, he seemed friendly enough.

Thor approached him and asked if there was any room.

“Aye, for you and yon girlfriend?”

“Yes, two.”

I said nothing when described as the girlfriend.

“Well, ye canny sleep together here. Girls on the first floor; and you are up on the second. Sign in here.”

I went red when he mentioned sleeping together, and Thor, bless him, missed it completely.

“Both Norwegian?” the man asked, watching Thor fill in his slip of paper. I was tempted to pretend to be, but decided that as I didn’t have papers or any knowledge of the language, I was better off being British.

“No, I’m not,” I said.

“Where are you from?”

I thought quickly.

“Inverness,” I said, with my accent.

“Och, there’s a thing. Ma wife comes fe Inverness.”

“Really? Good,” I said, smiling.

Fuck! Just my luck.

“Aye, we was married twenty three year, an’ then she buggers of te America wi’ some rich Yank.”

“Oh.” There was not much I could say to that.

I watched with trepidation as he took Thor’s passport details.

I filled in my slip.

Name: Philippa Stewart.
Date of Birth: 17/4/56 (A week older that I should have been)
Address: late of Altnagar Farm, Altnagar, Nr Inverness.
He looked at my slip.

“Late of?”

“Aye, my dad died and ma sold the farm. My brother and me moved out, I’ve come here to look fer a job.”

“Well, no doubt there are more here than up in the Highlands. Good luck to ye. Do ye hae any ID?”

“No, do I need any?”

“Get yersel’ doon to the social, and get something from them. It’s open ’til five. We get youngsters through all the time. They’ll give you a National Insurance number and everything. That’s the trouble wi’ school today. They teach you crap that doesnae help anyone in the real world.”

“Aye. I will, thanks.”

“Nae bother. Just take care now. There’s loads of trouble oot there if ye don’t watch oot.”

“I will look after her,” said my Norwegian god.

The man smiled.

“Aye, but who’s watching you, sonny?” he said.

“I am sorry?” Thor’s English missed the humour, again.

“Dinna worry. I’m Archie, by the way. I’m here most days up te five, if ye need anything.”

“Nice to meet you Archie. Don’t you get bored here?” I asked.

“Nae bother, me darlin’. You just take care. You’re in room 15, and lover boy is directly above you in room 25. We’re quite empty at the moment, so you have the rooms to yourselves. Each room can have up to five people in them. There is a locker in each room. If you want a key its fifty pee deposit. The hot water is available between seven and nine in the morning and seven and nine at night. There is a kitchen, but make sure you clean up after you.”

We each took a key, paid for the night in advance and went up to the rooms.

It was quite Spartan. However, it was a bed and was out of the weather. It would do until something better came along. I emptied my clothes from my bag, and hung them up in my locker. I was just brushing out my hair when there was a knock on the door.

I went over and opened it. It was Thor.

“Hi,” I said.

“Pippa, do you want to come with me? I was going to look at the castle.”

“I thought I’d pop down to the DHSS, and get sorted. If you come with me, we could go on afterwards.”

We went to the local social security office, Thor waited outside when I went in. I saw the lines of people and almost chickened out. I could see that the questions and answers would find me out.

I was on the point of turning round and walking out when I heard one member of staff say to another.

“This is bloody madness. No one can check these. It is quite possible for anyone to come in and give us a load of bollocks and we’ll be none the wiser.”

“Aye, but they don’t know that, do they?”

I smiled, and completed a form and handed it over when my turn came.

A tired and bored clerk looked at it and stamped it.

“You’ll get your number through in a few days, Miss Stewart. This receipt will act as a temporary one until it comes through. If you want to pop in, it will save time, and may well be ready tomorrow afternoon.”

That was it?

I turned and walked out.

On a whim I went into the next office, the local driving licence centre. I knew from when I went to the Perth office, they simply issued the little red books on a local basis, and there was no such thing as a central computer, yet.

I filled out a form applying for a provisional licence, giving my female details. The clerk asked for proof of identity, and I gave him the receipt from the DHSS for my application.

He took it without question, and I was issued with my Provisional licence then and there. I was five pounds poorer, but now had some identification. I couldn’t believe how easy it was.

I have always liked Edinburgh. The blend of old and new seems to work. Then there is the castle and the monument on Princes Street.

We walked up to the castle, along the old cobbled Royal Mile. I had been here several times and it was nice to be back. It was a cool day, and the rain had stopped, leaving the cobbles slick and damp, and a promise of drizzle in the air.

I was so pleased with my yellow jacket, as it kept me warm and dry.

We looked round the castle, and so I showed Thor the old gun which was supposed to fire one shot every day at around one p.m.. He also saw the modern piece of field artillery, which was actually the gun that fired the shot. Mons Meg, the old gun, would probably shatter into a million pieces if anyone tried to fire it.

“Why do they fire a gun, as clocks are much less noisy?” he asked.

“I think it’s historical, in that the harbour down on the firth needed an accurate idea of the time before clocks were commonplace,” I said, trying to remember what I’d read.

On the way back down, we passed a small recruitment office, which was shut. There were various cards in the window, offering all kinds of jobs, and one caught my eye:

I smiled. Now that was possible.

“You want to be a model?”

“I guess. I don’t know. It’s a possibility.”

“You would make a fine model, but too much breasts. I think you should look at being a movie star,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, thanks a bunch, buster,” I said as I saw him looking down at my firm round breasts.

“They aren’t too big, are they?” I asked.

“Not for me,” he said, still grinning.

We passed a pub that was filling up with young people. It was six o’clock now, and the music of Status Quo attracted me.

I dragged my Norwegian friend in with me, and we managed to find a table.

He looked uncertain.

“Never been to a pub?” I asked, almost shouting above the music.

He shook his head.

“In Norway, the alcohol is expensive and the police are very strict. We have beer, but it is weaker than your beers in England.”

“Scotland! And I can’t stand the stuff. I’ll have a vodka and lime,” I said, giving him a pound note.

He waved it aside.

“I buy for you. You have been a good friend.”

I smiled, and he grinned and fought his way to the bar.

It took an age, but he finally returned with a beer and my vodka. I was not a great drinker, but was grateful to be able to drink something palatable. I loathed beer, yet on rugby tours we all had to be seen to swill gallons of the stuff, despite being under-age.

We sat quite close together, just so we could hear each other. I asked him to tell me about his home.

“I have two younger sisters, Matilde and Bridget. My father is a doctor, and so is my mother. They work in a clinic in my hometown. It is about an hour from Oslo. I will not want to live there, as I think I want to see more of the world before seeing where I must stay.”

His accent was quite attractive, and I found myself enjoying being close to him. His presence made me feel safe and unafraid.

His smile was lovely. He smiled a lot when he looked at me.

“I am hungry, can we get food here?” he asked.

There was a sign advertising bar snacks.

“Yes, but what sort of food do you want?”

He shrugged.

“Scottish food.”

“We’ll go to the chippy. It will be cheaper and you’ll get more,” I said.

“Chippy?”

“Fish and chips.”

“Oh. Is it true you eat it from the newspapers?”

“Aye, they just wrap it up in newspapers. The papers are more sterile than other paper. You just get the black print all over your fingers.”

“I like to try that.”

We had one more drink. Thor wouldn’t let me buy the second one either. At about eight, the place was heaving and the noise levels were almost unbearable. We squeezed out and found the damp outside air most refreshing. At least it had stopped raining.

We walked slowly back down the hill, popping into the chip shop on the corner. We both had cod and chips, with a couple of cans of Coke.

We sat on a wall overlooking the city and ate the steaming fish with our fingers.

I found I was very hungry, as was my companion, so we both ate every scrap. We threw the paper and cans into a nearby bin, and set off for the hostel. We passed a convenience, so we popped in and washed our fingers.

The cobbles were uneven, and I slipped as my foot just caught the wrong angle on one. Thor had grabbed me by the hand, preventing me from falling.

I stopped and looked at him. He was still holding my hand. I made no move to remove it.

“Thanks,” I said.

He just smiled.

We kept walking and he kept holding my hand, or did I hold his?

My heart was racing and I felt excited. Did he feel the same?

It was still early and we passed a cinema. They were showing the film Waterloo, with Christopher Plummer as Wellington. We just went in, just for something to do.

I almost expected him to start something, so was a little disappointed that he didn’t. I was also pleased, as it was a complication I didn’t think I needed or could really cope with.

Then I thought a little deeper and just smiled.

I could cope with it!

I leaned across as he turned his head towards me, so I pulled him down and kissed him.

It wasn’t a great kiss, but he got the message.

We didn’t see much of the film, but we got much better at kissing!

Nothing could have prepared me for my reaction to physical contact with a boy. As soon as we touched, I experienced a tingly feeling all over, and some butterflies in my tummy. Once we kissed, my nipples grew, and I could feel myself becoming damp in my panties.

At one point, he slipped his hand under my top, cupping a breast and caressing one nipple between finger and thumb.

I don’t know what happened to me, but I had never felt anything like that before. Had he wanted to have sex with me, I would have probably done so without hesitation.

Breathless, I drew back for a moment, and realised that I was now getting into an area of potential danger. The reality of being female I was now happy with, but the reality of being a fertile and a potential mother was something else.

I snuggled in close to him, and he seemed to sense my panic. Like a true gentleman he also pulled back a little.

We watched the film, just content to be holding each other, and I allowed myself some time to come back to Earth.

It was after ten when we came out, so we walked slowly back to the hostel. He draped his arm around my shoulders, as I wrapped my arm about his waist. I was happy with the situation and was living for each minute.

We signed into the hostel. There was a different man on duty now. We stood on the stairs, outside the door to the girl’s rooms.

“I have liked today. I like Edinburgh, and I like you. You have made the trip to Britain worth it,” Thor said.

I smiled and kissed him.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” I said.

“We stay together tomorrow?”

“Aye, if ye want. I want to see about that job, otherwise, we can do what ye like. As long as it’s cheap, as I haven’t much money,” I said.

“Why not stay with me, as I travel the country. I like having you with me,” he said, looking down, embarrassed perhaps at expressing his feelings so quickly.

“Let’s see what tomorrow brings,” I suggested, and he smiled.

He kissed me again and it was very sweet.

I went to bed. For the first time in my life, I went to sleep completely happy. I was almost penniless, with no plans, no prospects and no ideas, but I was totally content!

I didn’t dream. It was lovely!

I awoke to see rain slashing at the small window by my bed. I looked at my watch and saw it was only seven o’clock. Yet I was completely rested. My hands sought out my breasts and crotch, so then I relaxed with my smile back on my face. I was still a girl.

I never wanted to change back.

I grabbed my towel and went in search of the showers. The shower room was very basic. The plain white tiles had seen better days, and the showerheads looked as if they had come off the ark. However, the water was hot, and I enjoyed feeling the water on my new female body.

I scrubbed and shampooed my hair, luxuriating in the feelings I now had at being me. I explored those parts that I had not explored before, finding certain spots that gave me unusual yet very pleasing feelings.

I was sexually naíve and very inexperienced. My knowledge of female genitalia was minimal. I had once managed to insert a finger inside Nikki Bruce’s vagina, but it was in the dark and it could have been an orange segment for all I knew!

I found my new equipment fascinating. It was so much more aesthetically pleasing to me, compared to my old male stuff. It was neat and compact. I thought it looked lovely.

However, it was my breasts that pleased me even more. They were the epitome of a woman, and they made me feel so wonderfully feminine. I adored the feel of them hanging where they should always have been. Even touching them was pleasant. My nipples were so sensitive, so as I washed, I remembered Thor feeling me. I began to feel aroused again.

I rinsed off and wrapped myself in the towel.

I thought about the tall Norwegian, and the thought made me smile. I liked him, but I was a little confused. I was trying to run before I really knew how to stand properly. My consolation was that I was the only one who knew the truth. Poor Thor, it wasn’t fair to him. Part of me wanted to go with him, as I did feel safe with him. The other part, the sensible one, knew that I had to get a life now, not tomorrow.

I needed to be independent. I needed a job, an income, somewhere to live and to make my mark on the world. I didn’t want to get in his way, and I didn’t want to sail along protected from life by him.

I dried myself and returned to my room. The rain seemed to be a little less now, but it was still pretty foul.

I wanted to see about jobs, so I dressed in the skirt and blouse. I loved the feeling of the tights, and slipped on the smart black high-heeled shoes. I dried my hair with the towel, and vowed to buy a hairdryer. I then spent a while applying make up. I wasn’t awfully good, but it would do. I liked what I saw, and then I realised that I was missing jewellery. That was something else I would sort out, when I could afford it.

I locked everything in my locker, hanging my towel over the radiator to dry. I slung my bag over my shoulder and carried my yellow ski jacket downstairs in search of breakfast.

Archie was just coming on duty when I got downstairs.

“Morning Lass, how are you today?”

“No bad, thanks. Is there anywhere open for breakfast nearby?”

“Aye, the bakers just up the road. Most folk go there. Where’s your boyfriend?”

I shrugged.

“Not up yet, I reckon.” I said.

“He is your boyfriend, then?”

“Sort of. I only met him a wee while ago. But he seems nice.”

“He fancies you!”

“You think?”

“I’m no blind, and neither should you be.”

I just grinned.

“Aye, I thought as much. Just be careful, Lass, be careful, ye cannae always trust yon foriners,” he said.

I looked out into the rain. I didn’t fancy going out just now, not by myself.

“Look, why don’t you go wake him up? There’s no one else in his room,” Archie suggested.

Grinning, I ran upstairs and found his room. I opened the door and peeped in.

Thor was still asleep. He was on his back and was naked to the waist. I couldn’t see if he was naked below, as the covers were concealing his interesting bits.

I walked in and went over to his bed.

I stood looking at him. I had looked but not studied him before. He had very high cheekbones, and his hair was so white it was unbelievable. He was very handsome. His torso and arms were well muscled from all the work on the logs in the summer.

I looked at his lips and wanted to kiss him. I also was curious to know what he really felt about me.

He moaned and moved, and then lay still again.

I bent over and kissed his lips.

His eyes sprang open, as his arm came round and held me close.

Our tongues caressed each other, and the kiss went on and on. In the end, I broke it off. Otherwise I would end up in bed with him, and that wasn’t a good idea — fun, but not a good idea.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” I said.

“Pippa. My God, you are beautiful.”

“Come on, out of bed, so then we can go for breakfast.”

He threw his bedclothes back and I was relieved to see he was wearing shorts. Mind you, with his erection, he needn’t have bothered.

He became embarrassed.

I simply smiled and walked out.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were pleased to see me. But I know you need a piss,” I said as I went.

Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed and downstairs with me.

He grinned at me.

“What we do today?”

“First, we get some breakfast. After that I want to drop in and see if they’ve done my card, and then I want to see about that modelling job.”

He was staring at my legs.

“Thor?”

He looked up, and grinned again.

“Your legs are very beautiful, I think!” he said, and I blushed.

“See! You watch him now, Lass,” said Archie, with a knowing smile.

We dashed out in the rain and up the street to the small bakery that also had half a dozen small tables.

We sat and had a hot cooked breakfast that was worth every penny. I ate everything and really quickly. Thor looked at me with a strange expression.

“I have never seen a girl eat like you,” he said.

I just smiled, using my last piece of bread to clean my plate.

“So, we go see about you job, yes?”

We had to pass the DHSS, so I popped in to see, but my card wasn’t ready yet. No surprises there. In fact, I would have been amazed had it been ready.

We arrived at the Employment agency just as they were opening, and it was a relief to get out of the rain. I pulled my hood back, grateful that my hair was still dry.

I asked about the modelling job, and the girl retrieved the card from the index.

“Aye, here ye are. They are holding interviews at the Hanover Hotel every day for the next week and a half. Do you want me to book you in?”

“Yes please. Will I need any experience?”

“No, I think that’s the whole point. They are after new faces that have never been seen before.”

“Have many been so far?”

“Quite a few. But not many have been successful,” she said.

My expression must have shown my lack of confidence, for she chuckled.

“Mind you, there’s not been many as pretty as you!”

I blushed and Thor laughed.

“That’s what I telling her,” he added.

She picked up the phone and spoke into it after dialling a number.

“Right, you’re booked in for eleven. Do you know where the hotel is?”

“Hanover Street, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll find it.”

We walked out into the rain and along Princes Street. Then up to Hanover Street, and there was the hotel. Thor wished me luck and went off to see the sights.

A woman handed me an application form to complete, so I sat down and spent ten minutes filling it in. There were loads of people milling about. Some were other applicants, while the rest were friends or relatives, I supposed.

The interview was not long, but I could tell that the three interviewers were after a certain type.

I wasn't it!

The interview was in the ballroom. They had set up a table and three chairs behind it. One chair was in front, so I had to walk the length of the ballroom to get to it.

There were two women and one man. The man was very camp, and the women looked very elegant, yet came over as hard as nails. They asked me various questions, and then asked me to stand and walk about.

“Would you mind stripping down to your bra for me, please?” asked one of the women.

I simply did so.

I stood there feeling very self-conscious.

“You’re seventeen?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Turn round for me.
”
I complied.

“Okay, Pippa. Thank you very much. If you take a seat outside, we will let you know whether you’ve been successful in a few minutes.”

I thanked them and left. I knew I hadn’t been successful.

I sat down, just trying to think what I’d do next. A very attractive older woman came and sat next to me.

“Just been?” she asked.

I nodded.

“What do you reckon?” she asked. She wasn’t Scottish, as her accent was clearly from Southern England.

“I don’t think they liked me. My bust is too big,” I said, staring down at the offending items.

“Do you think so?”

I regarded them critically. I hadn’t had them for long, but I actually liked them very much.

“No. If they want anorexic beanpoles that’s their problem,” I said, to which the woman laughed.

One of the women organising the event approached me.

“Philippa Stewart?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry dear, but you haven’t been successful this time. The panel thought you have potential, but they are after a different look this time around.”

I smiled and she gave me an envelope and went away. I opened the envelope, and there was a ten-pound gift voucher for M&S.

“That’s me in underwear for the next couple of months,” I said, and the woman beside me laughed again.

“Not too disappointed, I hope?”

“No, well, yes and no. It’s my first interview, so I couldn’t expect success straight off. However, I’m skint and need a job badly,” I admitted.

“Have you ever studied drama or done any acting?”

“Only at school. I was involved in our drama group, and, well I studied Shakespeare for exams, as does everyone.”

And now! I thought.

“My name is Valarie Masterson. I’m a writer and used to be a theatrical agent. I started out as an actress, but marriage and kids put paid to that. I still write a bit, and act as an agent for the up and coming stars of tomorrow. I’m making the move into production, as I’ve just started my own production company. We’re looking into doing some period dramas for television. I am here just to see what sort of talent this attracts, and up to now I was disappointed.” She paused and looked closely at me.

I wasn’t going to show her anything. I’d read about all kinds of people tricking young hopefuls out of money to allegedly act for them as agents. Once they took the money, they disappeared, never to be heard of again. Esther Rantzen had a slot on her show about them recently.

She smiled.

“Are you Scottish?”

“Yes,” I said, and it dawned on me that I had not being using my accent.

“Let me hear an accent.”

“From what part?”

“You can do more than one?”

“There’s Glaswegian, Edinburgh, you see it’s so much more refined? Aberdeen, Perth, Highland, Dundee and many more,” I said, giving her an example of each as I went.

“What part are you from?”

“Central, near Perth, but I lived up near Inverness as well.”

“You’ve confused me. Why did you lose the accent just now?”

“Nerves. I don’t actually have an accent. Daddy wouldn’t have liked it! So, I was so worried about the interview, I just plain forgot to keep it going.”

“Why did you put one on?”

“Long story. Just let’s say I am setting out on my own, and need to be independent for a while. I find it helps not to stand out to much. It’s amazing how many barriers exist when people think you’re posh.”

She laughed, and I felt myself warming to her.

“You are a pickle. I’d love to find out more!”

“We’ll I’m not saying any more. I just can’t!”

“How would you like to work in television?”

“I’d love to, but I’m not daft. People just don’t land jobs like this.”

She laughed again.

“Oh, you shrewdie. You are so right, usually! Nevertheless, as I said, I’m producing my own series. I’m looking for a special girl to act as a fourteen year old in the first show, to age to be a twenty-six year old by the end of the twelfth. She needs to be capable of maintaining a Scottish accent for the first few parts, and then gradually lose it by the end. I also want to find someone who is a complete unknown. The problem with some drama schools is that they have a habit of churning out a product that sometimes can lose individuality and creativity. I’m not saying drama school’s are bad, far from it, but occasionally, raw talent can give so much more to a particular part.”

I looked at her.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“What do you say we go to the hotel coffee shop and discuss this?”

I must have looked sceptical, for she burst out laughing.

“Philippa, is it?”

I nodded. “Pippa.”

“Okay, Pippa, I am not offering you the part. I just want to get to know you a little better, and then see if it is worth giving you a screen test. I promise nothing, but it will cost you nothing. What do you say?”

I hadn’t anything else to do.

“Okay,” I said, so we went to the hotel coffee shop, where I let her buy me a coffee.

She delved into her briefcase and took out a sheaf of papers.

“Now, here is a sample script for the first part, and the last. Can you read me a few sections?” she asked.

I looked round the hotel.

“Here?”

“Do you have a problem?”

I shrugged.

“Not if you don’t,” I said, and she laughed again.

I spent some time reading short passages. I would read them through first, just to put the conversations into context, so I could be as lifelike as possible. The first few I read in a Scottish accent, a Highland variety, soft and gentle. I also remembered I was supposed to be fourteen, so tried to make myself sound younger.

The last few I spoke with the precise clipped accent of the aristocracy, as I read that I was now a Lady Mirabelle Flanders.
Valarie clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh, how wonderful! Absolutely perfect,” she said.

I just smiled. I noticed Thor walk through the doors and look around. I looked at my watch. Two hours had elapsed since I had come here, and I had agreed to meet him at one.

“Oh, excuse me. My friend has arrived and is looking for me,” I said.

Valarie turned and looked at the tall Norwegian. He took his coat off and shook it. He was wearing a check shirt, jeans and big chunky boots. He looked absolutely gorgeous.

One of her eyebrows arched and she looked at me.

“Boyfriend?”

I scrunched up my nose as I thought how to describe him.

“Sort of. We only met yesterday, when we sort of helped each other out. He’s on a year out before medical college.”

“Then best you get him over here,” she said, so I waved at him.

Thor’s smile said it all.

“Ah!” said Valarie, smiling. As Thor’s whole demeanour softened as soon as he saw me.

“Hi Pippa. How did you get on?” he asked.

I stood up as he came over and kissed me. It just happened and seemed natural.

“I didn’t get the modelling job. My tits are too big. I told you!”

“I like them just fine!” he said, to which Valarie laughed.

“Oh, Thor, this is Valerie Masterson. She is talking to me about a possible acting job. Valerie this is Thor Larssen, he’s from Norway.”

Thor smiled and shook Valerie’s hand.

“She would make a good actress, I think. She is pretty and very clever. She even knows the different warships the British navy has.”

I went bright red, as Valerie looked at me with an odd expression.

She waved at the waiter. When he came over, she ordered a round of sandwiches and another pot of coffee.

“What do you say we turn this into a working lunch?” she said to me.

I nodded, and looked at Thor, who sat down and grinned at me.

He sat and watched as Valarie explained the rather convoluted plot. It was about the highly born girl from a wealthy aristocratic family at the turn of the century. She was swapped at birth by her scheming father with the son of his gamekeeper from an estate in the Highlands of Scotland. He needed a son to keep the title in the family, and as the girl’s mother had died in childbirth and he was now in his sixties, the chances of a male heir were diminishing.

However, the dead wife had a brother, the girl’s uncle, and he had a suspicion about the swap, so made it his business to find her. The gamekeeper was a kind man, but was bought and paid for by the wicked Earl.

The story started when she was fourteen, and turning the heads of all the local lads. The Uncle arrives, persuading the gamekeeper to ‘sell’ his ‘daughter’ to him so as he can put her into his service at his home in London.

The gamekeeper sees no problem with it, as the old Earl is now dead, and his real son is the heir to the title.

The girl is introduced to smart Edwardian London, and with elocution lessons, becomes the darling of the upper set. Even the Prince of Wales fancies her, and there are loads of balls and wonderful scenes with superb costumes.

Then she is introduced to the young Earl, who falls in love with her. He is not happy with his lot, finding London High society not to his taste. However, she has been primed by her Uncle, and she manages to complete the task to expose the swap, so the title passes to the rightful earl, a cousin to the deceased Earl. The latter, in order to avoid a scandal, generously gives the young man the fine Scottish estate from whence the gamekeeper came, to which he retires gratefully to the country to become a wealthy farmer. She, however, is pursued to make good marriage to another titled gentleman, but when he dies in a hunting accident, she eventually leaves London, travelling to the distant Estate in the Highlands and marries the game keeper’s son for love.

The series was called Highland Fling and I was sold. It sounded far too good to be true, so I said as much.

“I’m not an actress, so how can I be expected to do this. I mean, it looks really hard!”

“You may not be trained, but then I think that could be an advantage. I see in you a fresh naivety that will bring a breath of new life to television.

“Where is it being filmed?”

“In studios near London, and on location up at a place called Glenmarsh, in Perthshire. The estate is owned by the Forestry Commission, where there is a huge house that is just perfect for the story. We don’t start until after Christmas, as that is when the other actors become free.”

“Who else is in it?”

She told me, and I gasped. They were all really famous names.

I sat there stunned.

“Look, Pippa. I’d like to give you a screen test. Then, if you fit the part, and are willing to do it, I’d like you to come and stay with me, and we can go over your part. You could help me re-write it so you feel right with your lines. I’d like us to make it personal to you. It will be more believable that way.”

I looked at Thor, and he was grinning at me.

“I don’t know what to say. Don’t I have to belong to equity, or something?”

She laughed again.

“That is the least of our problems. What do you say?”

I looked at Thor.

“Go for it!” he said.

I shrugged.

“Okay, when do we do the test?”

“How about this afternoon?”

I was very surprised. I had expected her to say in a couple of weeks or something.

“This afternoon?”

“Yes, is there a problem?”

“No, it just didn’t expect anything quite so fast.”

She smiled.

“It’s nothing fancy. I have a friend with a small private studio, here in Edinburgh. It should only take a couple of hours, and then we’ll know.”

To be continued..........