Monique by Tanya Allan

Seventeen-year old Matthew Thwaites is trapped snooping in his father’s study when his father returns home unexpectedly with two strange men. He hides under the desk, and is horrified to witness his father gunned down just inches away from him. Given an opportunity to flee, he does so, but finds himself framed for his father’s murder by a corrupt policeman.   Alone and powerless, he hides out at a busy airport, but his appearance is such that he is mistaken for a girl. Given an idea, he makes the most of this, and goes whole hog into the deception, becoming Monique, his French ‘cousin’. He manages to find an ally in an officer investigating corruption amongst police officers, and together they try to piece together the puzzle.   Monique is then pitched into an international roller-coaster ride involving terrorists, corrupt police and double agents. No one is what they seem, particularly Monique. She is twice the person that Matthew ever was, and given the chance, she decides to take over, but everything seems against her.

Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

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Originally written and posted on Sapphire's Place in 2004, Reworked & Revised in 2009.
 
The Legal Stuff:Monique  ©2004, 2009 Tanya Allan

This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.

Author's Note
I first wrote MONIQUE many years ago, posting it on Sapphire’s Place in 2004. I have had many requests to continue Monique’s adventures, so thought I’d revisit her and see what could be done. Initially, I was appalled at the standard of writing; well it was my first attempt, almost. Then I wondered why it had been so popular, as I personally found it rather rushed and the characters somewhat shallow and two-dimensional.
 
Okay, I thought, perhaps I should continue, but not from what I had written. It needed a revamp and perhaps a tweak here and there before I even could consider any additional material.
 
So, here it is, the revamped version of Monique, with a little extra and the hope that her adventures will continue in the near future. I have started with a completely new chapter at the end, just to whet your appetites.
 
I’m not convinced that there is any mileage in continuing, so perhaps you could let me know what you think?
 
 
Chapter 6
 
 
I handed it to him as if nothing had happened, and took a drink of water. I noticed he looked closely at me and then relaxed. I caught a glance between Will and Alison, it wasn’t much, but enough. I now knew which camp she was in, and it wasn’t necessarily mine. It was a bit of a shock, but nice to know my instincts were on the ball.

We eventually left the men and went to our room. I showered and got ready for bed.

Alison followed suit, so I got into bed as she got ready.

“How long have you been working for the Americans?” I asked.

“What?” she asked, shocked and surprised.

“You heard. How long?”

“You’re daft, I’m a police officer in the Met. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

I sighed. “Look Alison, I’m a rich kid; a rich kid of a father who has been doing shady deals all his life. I may be only seventeen, but I am neither blind nor naíve. Your sister had an expensive operation, your car is almost new, and your flat is in a really nice area, close to the  £200,000 mark. You’re a police officer, yet you can swan off to Switzerland without a bye nor leave from your superiors. You have been exchanging meaningful glances with William all night, so don’t insult my intelligence. I suppose the guys at the airport were Americans too? Level with me. You owe me that at least.”

Alison stared at me for a while, but then looked away, unable to hold my stare. She slumped slightly, sighing.

“Two years. I was approached by the CIA when I was a DC in Special Branch. We had accepted protocols of sharing intelligence with the Americans, but they wanted more. It worked both ways, as MI5 were constantly complaining that the Americans took and never gave in the agreement. There’s little love lost between MI5 and the CIA, as UK interests often conflict with the Americans. By coming to me, they got stuff that was later handed to MI5, so bypassing the protocol. They paid for Nicola’s operations, and my flat. I never had to do much, just a little information now and again, but now it seems that they’re after the man that Vine is working for, the man that was with you that night in the study when you father was killed. As soon as you called in, I alerted them.”

“I knew you were too good to be true. Does Rich know who I am?”

“No, neither of them do. All they know is that you are the key to getting the dirt on Mr X. The only person who knows that you are Matthew Thwaites is me. Even Jenny doesn’t know who you are, or were.”

“I know, I checked,” I said, and smiled as her eyes widened in surprise.

“They all accept the story of you being a cousin of Matthew’s, and he has entrusted you with the papers to sort out his affairs.”

“Whose idea was that?”

“Mine. I’ve been watching your father for a while, on the instructions of the CIA. As soon as you used your mother’s maiden name, I knew that the cousin bit would work. Besides, I really believed you were a cousin to start with,” she said with a smile. “A female one, at that.”

“Do the police know anything about me?”

“No, I have taken leave ever since you contacted me.”

“So, who has the papers I gave you?”

“The Americans. CIA and FBI are working together on this one.”

“Why?”

“Your Dad approached the CIA stating he had a Middle Eastern contact who was trying to get US defence contracts for a firm that was American, but owned and controlled by a consortium headed by some Lebanese businessman. He suspected a terrorist link, so ran some checks. The Lebanese turns out to be an Iranian. He needed some help, so he went to the CIA. They did not expect the Senate Committee to pull the plug with no warning.

“The man who visited your father was the main man. He has several men in the US Congress, Scotland Yard and others in Whitehall on his pay roll. Your father knew this, as he found some documents. The same ones you found, that the CIA now have.”

“So how come the Senate committee fucked up?”

“They didn’t. Not really. They did not want to perpetuate arms contracts when the politics was against it. It was purely a political decision.”

“So, what are tweedle dum and tweedle dee here for?”

“Who? Oh, Will and Rich. They are to take anything you can get from the box.”

“Call them. Get them here, now,” I said.

“What?”

“You heard. Look, I’ve been fucked about by the Police, by the Iranians, the Americans, and now by you. It’s high time that I take a little control back. Call them. NOW!” I could be a bossy cow when I wanted to be.

She went to the phone, so a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Alison looked at me.

“Answer it,” I said.

She went and opened the door, and I remembered I was in my nightdress. I slipped on one of the hotel’s dressing gowns.

“What’s the problem?” Will asked, looking quizzically at Alison.

“Monique saw the badge and put two and two together. She’s a bright girl,” Alison said.

“Okay, so what happens now?” Will said, looking daggers at Rich for dropping his wallet.

“A change in plans,” I said.

“Go on.”

“Up to now I have been a pawn in zis game of yours. My life was worth nothing - rien. Now I know zat I am of value to you. So, as a valuable person, I have a say in what happens, non?”

Will nodded slowly.

“How much do you know?”

“Mon oncle, my uncle, he deal with all kinds of peoples. Some good, some not so good, and some very bad. Zis time, he deal with very bad men, and he come to you for help. You failed. He ees now dead, so now I can help, so, you keep me alive. You owe my uncle, and my cousin Matthew. Oui?”

They stared at me, and then at each other.

“Look, Monique. We’re in a foreign country, we have no authority here.”

“William, do not give me the shit of the bull. You Americans have power everywhere. I know zat you had all ze men at ze airport in Londres. It must be easy to protect a French girl when she goes to the banque?”

“I guess. But they know which bank, and they will be waiting.”

“Perhaps, but who do zey think comes? Huh? Monique? Non. Zey sink my cousin comes, zey sink Matthew comes. And zey sink he ees in England still.”

“Okay, how do we go about this?”

“We must help them.”

“What?”

“We know zey have a man in ze English police, oui? So, we tell ze English police zat Matthew is seen on ze train in France, heading for zis place.”

“Go on.” said Will.

“We tell zem which train and which station he ees expected at, and we wait and see who zey send to follow him. Once we know ze enemy, we are wiser zan zem,” I was getting into the accent now.

Will smiled. “You ain’t just a pretty face, it just might work. But how do we work this, they might have someone in the bank?”

“Zey know which banque, but not which box. That ees totally, how you say? Anonymous.”

“So, what is your point?”

“Simple. I go in and ask for a deposit box.”

“I hate to be a spoil sport, honey, but you need something to put into it.”

I opened my bag and placed my mother’s jewellery on the table, along with  £20,000 in  £50 notes.

“I sink zat will do, oui?”

“Shit. Oui oui. Where the fuck did you get these?”

“Do not ask, zen I do not tell lies. D’ accord?”

“Are they hot?”

I frowned. “Ah, you mean stolen? Non. They are mine.”

“Okay, so you are in charge, what’s the plan?”

I smiled.

“Tomorrow we all go to Zurich, d’accord?”

“Zurich. Why?”

“Because zat is where ze banque ees.” I said.

“Shit, we thought it was in Geneva.”

“Of course, who told you zat?”

“Your Uncle.”

“So, he was a fox, oui?”

“I guess,” said Will, smiling. “Monique, if is any consolation, I’m sorry you got dragged into this mess. It ain’t your problem.”

“Eet ees now. We get good sleep, we have long way to go a demain, tomorrow,” I said.

Will nodded and left, Rich looked sheepish and embarrassed.

“Rich?” I said.

“Monique, I feel, aw heck, I don’t know how to say this, but I feel awful about getting you mixed up in this.”

I walked over to him. I stroked his face and kissed him. The tingles came back, and I ached inside.

“Pauvre enfant. You did not get me into zis, I did it alone. Bonne nuit.”

“Good night,” he said, and was gone.

I closed the door, and Alison shook her head again.

“Shit. I wasn’t the only one to underestimate you.”

“Next time, Alison, please level with me from the start,” I said, and went to bed.

“I bloody hope there isn’t a next time. Good night.”
 
 
Chapter 7
 
 
We caught the train to Zurich at a little after nine the next morning. We had sat together at breakfast in the hotel, where Rich kept looking at me and smiling. I felt really strange, but put it down to the hormones.

Alison had apologised about not being honest, so in a way I was relieved that things were out in the open. I was mindful that other people’s agendas are always different, and I did not intend to ever be a victim of circumstance again.

As I walked through the hotel in my new dark skirt, dark stockings and black shoes, cream blouse and matching dark jacket, I was conscious that I caused male heads to turn. I caught my reflection in the many mirrors, and smiled at the strange and confident young woman I had become. The weird thing was that I actually felt confident, as it was almost as if I had become a completely different person. Giving orders and suggestions came naturally to me, but the really strange thing was that I was thinking in French. The accent I had started to put on became almost second nature. I had become Monique Bonnard.

Swiss trains run efficiently, as do most things in Switzerland. We pulled into Zurich on time. Alison ‘arranged’ for the incident room in England to get a sighting of Matthew Thwaites on a ferry for Calais at 06:00 in the morning, so he was believed to be heading for Zurich. We booked into a hotel near the station, leaving our luggage in our rooms.

We arrived by taxi at the bank, but I went in alone while the others waited in a small café across the street. I approached the desk and asked for a deposit box. The assistant spoke fluent German, French, Italian and English. We conversed in French.

I paid the fee and was taken to the vault. There was strict security, where the whole area was covered by CCTV. I was given a card, similar to the one I already had from Dad’s safe, and the assistant had possession of another one. The two cards were swiped, and that secured me an empty box, and he took it to a private curtained cubicle for me to put whatever I wanted into it.

I was not bothered about privacy, so openly showed him the jewellery as I placed it into the box.

I smiled at him.

“It was my late mother’s jewellery, it is very valuable, and I feel rather vulnerable with it in my luggage.”

He nodded and helped me place it in the security safe.

“What hours are you open?”

“From 09:00 every morning, until 16:00 during the week.”

“Are you ever open on a Saturday?”

“No.”

“Thank you. As long as I know,” I said, and walked out.

I hovered in the main hall for a while, until that assistant was given a break, then I changed another  £1000 for Swiss Francs, and approached the new assistant.

“I obtained a safe deposit box with you this morning, and I forgot to take out some earrings, is it possible I could just do that?” I said in German.

“Of course, fraulein,” he said, and we went back down.

I gave him Dad’s card, so he opened the safe and carried the box to the cubicle again. I pulled the curtain across and emptied the box onto the table. There were several sheaves of paper, and a computer disk, which I immediately placed into my briefcase. There was a huge wad of Swiss Francs, which I simply placed into my handbag, along with a similar wad of 100 Euro notes. There was a strip of gold Sovereigns, some Kruger Rands, and some diamonds in a small black felt bag. These followed the paper money. There was a small jewellery box, with my mother’s initials on it. I put that in my bag too.

Lastly, a Walther PPK self-loading pistol. That made me smile. My grandfather, the British one, had liberated a similar weapon from a German in the Second World War. I’d played with it often, he’d even shown me how to strip it and load it. I’d never fired it. My father had handed it in to the police when his father had died. I checked it, and found it had a full clip. I replaced the magazine and slid the pistol into in the waist band of my skirt, at the back.

Then I signalled that I had finished, flourishing a pair of diamond earrings.

“Finished, thanks,” I said, and smiled.

He smiled and replaced the box.

I went up and left the bank rapidly.

We met up in the café across the street, where I pulled out the contents of the brief case.

The Americans were most interested in the papers.

“This is more than we could ever have hoped for,” Will said. “Now I understand. Old man Thwaites was a wily old fox all right.”

“What are zey?” I asked.

“These are the accounts of the holding company that has applied for the contracts. But not the legitimate accounts. Here are bank details and payments for all kinds of people, even a US Senator,” Will said, as he examined another sheaf of documents.

“Oh boy. This is a list of persons who have been paid by the holding company, with dates and amounts. We have just hit the mother lode.”

“There is a disc there, as well,” Alison pointed out.

“We have to get these to the CIA case officer, fast,” Rich said.

“Okay, I’ll do that, you guys keep an eye out for our friends,” Will said.

Alarm bells started ringing in my head. He was suddenly very interested in leaving us alone, and I didn’t like it.

“One moment,” I said, and they all looked at me.

“If zeez are as valuable as you say, zen I am not sure one personne should take zem alone. With everysing zat ees at stake, it would be wrong to make a mistake now,” I said staring at Will.

As soon as I caught the look he gave me I knew that he was bought and paid for, and we were in great danger. I glanced at Rich, and I still didn’t know about him. I was about as certain of Alison as I could be, but this was becoming a very dangerous game.

I pretended not to care, and shrugged.

“D’accord. Okay, you take zem.” I said. And he looked relieved, he stood up, and went to leave.

“Right. I’ll go now, and I will come back as soon as I have delivered them to the case officer at the consulate,” he headed out the front door.

I stood up.

“I must visit the ladies,” I said, and went to the back of the café.

I ran straight out of the back door and onto the street. I caught sight of Will just going round the corner, away from the direction of the US consulate.

I followed, on the opposite side of the road. He was walking very fast and talking on a mobile phone at the same time. There was an almighty explosion behind me. Glass and debris flew around me and I was knocked off my feet with the blast. I looked back, and saw the whole of the café was destroyed, so I suddenly realised that our friends had taken out Rich and Alison with a bomb. I should be there too.

I was stunned, and felt almost faint. I had ringing in my ears and felt dizzy, but I couldn’t go back, so I picked myself up and kept after Will.

He had no idea I was following, so intent was he on his call. Finally, he finished speaking and put the phone in his pocket. He crossed the road, making for a side street. I kept about two hundred metres behind him, and followed for nearly a kilometre. At last he stopped in front of an apartment block, looked at the building front and entered the block.

I followed, but watched as the elevator stopped at the sixth floor. I took the stairs and carefully pushed open the door onto the sixth floor landing. I saw Will standing by a half open door. He was talking to someone inside and they were arguing. The door opened wider, but Will seemed reluctant to hand over the briefcase.

I heard him say, “This is bigger than you imagined, so I want another ten grand.”

Then there were two popping noises, and Will seemed to stagger and fall back onto the highly polished floor. He’d been shot. Two men appeared and dragged the body through the doorway. The door shut with a bang.

My heart was racing. I carefully walked along the landing and stopped by the door. I could hear two male voices arguing and then footsteps coming towards the door. I raced back to the stair well and watched as a swarthy man, who could have been North African or an Arab come out of the door. I took the gun from my waist band, and as slowly and as quietly as I could, chambered a round. The man said something in Arabic and pushed the elevator button. The elevator doors opened, he got in, and then the doors closed again.

I went back to the apartment door, which was still open. Will was lying on his back in the hall, while another dark man was going through his pockets. My briefcase was lying on the floor by Will’s head.

“Excuse moi?” I said, and the man looked up in surprise.

I smiled, so he looked dazed for a second. Holding the gun in both hands, arms extended straight out in front, I shot him twice in the head. The shots were incredibly loud. My ears were ringing painfully as I immediately grabbed the briefcase and Will’s wallet, and ran for the stairs. I ran down the many flights and out into the lobby. A car was just pulling up outside, and I saw a glimpse of the first man. I hid behind a door and watched him as he went to the elevator. I walked up behind him as he got in and shot him twice in the back as the doors shut on him. As calmly as I could, I turned and walked out through the deserted lobby. My ears were really hurting now, so I could hear very little. Gun shots never seemed that loud in the movies.

The Mercedes was sitting there, with the keys still in the ignition. I slid behind the wheel and started the engine. It was an automatic, so I placed the gear shift into Drive and drove slowly down the street. I headed towards the café and parked near the police cordon. I searched the car and found another gun, a 9mm Glock 17, in the glove compartment. I placed this in my briefcase. The boot was empty. There was a mobile phone sitting by the handbrake. On impulse I took it.

I wiped everywhere that I could remember touching, and locked the car, throwing the keys into a nearby rubbish bin, then I walked up to a worried young policeman by the cordon.

“Excuse me, I was supposed to meet a girl friend in the café, what has happened?”

“There has been an explosion, several people have been killed. The cause is not known yet, if your friend is alive, she will be at the central hospital.”

“Thanks,” I said, and walked away.

I took a taxi to the hotel and collected my luggage. I paid for the room for the night, saying that I had become separated from my friend, but I hoped that she would be back later. I called the police emergency number and asked about casualties. Eight people were injured, three seriously, and four were dead. No names were available for release, unless I was a relative.

I left the hotel and walked across the road into the railway station. I placed my suitcase and briefcase in a left luggage locker, and turned and walked back out into the street. I waved down another taxi and was dropped off at the hospital. It was chaotic, with paramedics, nurses and doctors rushing everywhere. Police officers were trying to restore calm, but the press were trying to get in on the act and confusing everything.

I walked round the side of the hospital and into an unmarked door, then I took a stair well up, and found myself in the relative calm of a normal corridor with wards leading off each side. I passed the staff canteen and went into the staff restrooms. A white coat was hanging on a hook, so I slipped it on over my clothes. There was an ID card on the coat, of a blonde girl, not too dissimilar to myself. I continued down the corridor, where I picked up a clipboard that was lying on a trolley.

I headed back to the chaos that was the Emergency Room, and was able to get right to the reception desk. A very harassed receptionist was trying to cope, so I slipped in and sat in the chair next to her.

“I need the list of casualties for the press officer,” I said in German.

She passed me a piece of paper.

“Thanks,” I said, and scanned the list. I made the effort to copy the list onto some paper on my clip board, and then gave her the list back.

“Thanks,” I repeated, but she never heard.

Alison and Rich had survived and were in the hospital.

I went back upstairs, replaced the clipboard, and then went back to the restroom and deposited the coat where I had found it. I looked rather unkempt, so I spent some time repairing my makeup, and brushing some of the dust and debris off my clothes. My ears had finally stopped aching, but were ringing still, just slightly. Several women came in and paid me no undue attention at all. So, I went into the canteen and paid for a coffee and a sandwich. I found a vacant table and sat down and tried to relax.

The adrenaline was still coursing through my body, I was eighteen tomorrow. I had killed two men in cold blood and was behaving like James Bond. Or Jane Bond at any rate.

I tried to relax, drank my coffee and munched my sandwich. I couldn’t taste anything, so it could have been sawdust.

“Hello. Is this seat taken?” A male voice brought me back to earth. He was speaking French, but not quite fluently.
 
 
Chapter 8
 
 
I looked up to see a young man, about my age, so nineteen or so, looking down at me. He was tall and broad, with unruly sandy hair. He looked like a rugby player.

I smiled and waved at the vacant chair.

“Help yourself,” I replied, in French.

“Thanks,” he said, and sat down with a vast tray of food. It dawned on me, it was still only lunch time.

“Are you a prospective student too?” he asked, still in French. I tried to guess his nationality, but failed.

“No, I was visiting a friend in one of the wards.”

“Oh. I was supposed to have an interview, but they have got a panic on. Bit of a shame with all the emergency,” he said.

“It must be,” I said, not having a clue what he was talking about.

“Where are you from?”

“Lille, France, and you?”

“Scotland.”

That explained the terrible accent.

I changed to my accented English.

“Why come to Switzerland, zere are medical schools in Britain.”

“Oh, you speak English. Good. I know, but I want to broaden my language skills at the same time, and my father trained here. We have a family apartment in the city, so I don’t have to go into student digs.”

“Digs?” I frowned.

“Sorry, digs means accommodation, like a flat or rooms.”

“Oh,” I said, and lapsed into silence.

“I’m Alex Drummond, what’s your name?”

“Monique. Monique Bonnard.”

“Pleased to meet you Monique. I can’t say I have been falling over friends since I arrived here. How about you?”

I smiled. “I have met a few people, but it is always difficult in a strange place,” I said.

“How long are you in Zurich?”

“I am not sure, a few days, perhaps a week. How about you?”

“I’m here for a couple of weeks. This is my year out. If I pass the interview, I will go home for a few weeks, and then I might go to Africa to help in a hospital in Senegal, for a couple of months, and then maybe on to Australia to do a bit of backpacking.”

“That sounds fun. I have to go back to get a job,” I said.

“Where are you staying?”

I shrugged. “I have to find somewhere, the hotels are very expensive,” I said, conveniently forgetting that I had a small fortune in my bag.

We chatted about the weather and several innocuous subjects, until suddenly he came out with:

“Look, I have a spare room at the flat, and if it’s just for a couple of days, come and stay with me. I could do with the company.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, surprised at the spontaneity of his offer.

“Aye, it would be a pleasure.”

I smiled at him, and he reddened. Oh shit. I thought, another one falls for the charm.

“I will go and see how my friend is. I meet you here in half an hour, oui?”

“Oui,” he said, beaming at me.

I slung my shoulder bag over my shoulder, and left him eating his way through a hundred-weight of consumables.

I went to the enquiries desk and asked after Alison Grover.

“Are you a relative?”

“No, just a friend,” I said.

“I am sorry, for the moment, no information is available. Please come back tomorrow,” she said.

I left before I got angry. Then I went to a pay phone. I dialled directory enquiries, eventually getting through to the US consulate.

“Could I speak to the CIA case officer handling the Thwaites case please?” I asked, again with a slight French accent.

“I’m sorry, you must be mistaken, there is no one from the CIA here.”

“My next sentence will mention, over the open line, the full contents of the bank vault, the names of all persons on the list, and the current location of William Henderson, and Richard Cooper. Now are you going to be sensible, or am I going to start talking?”

“One moment.”

Then another male voice came on the line.

“Hello?”

“Are you a CIA officer?”

“Who is this?”
“Never mind. Richard Cooper is in the hospital, William Henderson was playing for the other team, and stole the papers. But after he delivered the papers they shot him. They blew up the café where Cooper, the British police woman, and the French girl were waiting. Cooper and the police woman are in hospital.”

I then gave him the address of the apartment block

“Who are you?”

“An interested party. I have the papers. I trust no one after Will’s treachery. I will call tomorrow,” I said and hung up.

I went straight up to the canteen, where Alex was finishing his mammoth meal.

“Hello, how is your friend?” he asked, as he placed his tray on the trolley.

“I do not know. She was involved in the explosion, and no one can tell me anything.” I said.

“Oh, that’s too bad. What will you do?”

I shrugged. “Perhaps I come back tomorrow.”

“Are you ready?”

I nodded.

“Have you any stuff?”

“At the station, we go there on the way, yes?”

“Sure, we can get a taxi, okay?”

“Oui.”

We walked out together, and caught a taxi to the station. I liberated my suitcase and briefcase and jumped back into the cab.

His flat was in quite a nice part of the city, but some way from all the excitement. It was a good flat, as befitted his father, an eminent surgeon by all accounts.

He showed me the spare room. It was luxurious, two beds and an en suite bathroom. There was a beautiful view of the city as well.

“Cette chambre est superbe. Merci Alex,” I said, and he blushed again.

“It’s no problem. I’m just pleased I can help you for a while.” he said.

“I must take a shower, okay?” I asked.

“Make yourself at home.” he said.

“Merci.” I said and started to strip off, so he left the room rapidly.

I had a lovely shower, but after I dried myself off, I had to repair the glue in my nether regions. My false breasts were fine, but I thought that my own breasts were rather tender underneath. It could have been my imagination, or wishful thinking. The hormones would not have started working this fast, would they?

I put on a cream dress with short sleeves and a broad brown belt. My dark stockings had a ladder in them, so I put on some flesh coloured tights and some cream shoes. I had really tight panties on, with a panty-pad inside them, to add weight to my excuse of having my period. My hair, once washed, was really bouncy and full of colour. I felt much better.

I put on fresh makeup and took my pills. My nails were fine, so I felt quite relaxed and safe here. I checked the guns. The Walther had only three bullets left, and I knew that the police would be after this gun for the killings of the Arabs. That is if the bodies hadn’t been removed by persons unknown before the police arrived.

The Glock had seventeen rounds in the clip. It was full, and there was a full spare. I knew that I couldn’t go back to the bank for a while, so I looked at the jewellery that I had collected.

The stuff from home had been very fine, but this collection was out of this world. It was a matching set of diamond earrings, bracelet, necklace and tiara. There were four diamond rings, with huge stones; I dared to even guess how much they were all worth.

The cash, once counted came to about  £50,000. I was one rich girl.

I carefully split the money, placing it in different parts of my cases and bags. The Sterling was useless here, so I only kept the Swiss Francs in my shoulder bag. I kept the Walther on me, intending to throw it into the first river I came to. The Glock I put in my case.

I locked my case, with the briefcase inside and left the room, carrying my bag. Alex was watching the TV news.

“They think it was a terrorist bomb, but no one is claiming responsibility,” he said.

I then watched the report of a mystery killing of three unidentified men in an apartment block.

“This is more like Belfast than Switzerland,” Alex said.

“It’s all a bit frightening.”

“So, do you know Zurich?” he asked.

“I have been here a few times, but I do not know it well,” I admitted.

“We lived here for six years when I was about eight to fourteen, so I know it quite well. I’ve never been here since I grew up,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Twenty, next month. You?”

“Nineteen, twenty tomorrow,” I said.

He smiled. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Not really, zere ees a boy who likes me, but nussing serious,” I said, thinking of Rich.

“I had a girlfriend, but she dumped me a few weeks ago,” he said.

“Oh, why?”

“I think I was a bit of a geek.”

“Geek?”

“Oh, sorry, a geek is a book-worm, or computer nut. I’m not very good with people, and I’m not what many think as being with-it.” he said, getting embarrassed.

I smiled.

“With-it?” I asked.

“Um, trendy, fashionable, in the current way of doing things.”

“Ah, I understand. It’s okay. I like geeks,” I said.

“You’re just saying that. Anyway, I knew you were older than me.”

“Oh, pourquoi, why?”

“Because you look so sophisticated and confident. You look at least twenty-two.”

I just smiled.

“You’re very beautiful, Monique,” he said, blushing again.

“Pah. You are not a geek. You are one zat plays ze roogbee, non?”

He went bright red this time.

“How can you tell?”

I waggled his slightly bruised ears.

“You have ze roogbee players ears,” I said, “and you know ze chat up lines.”

He stood up, but I could tell he was feeling flustered.

“Alex, you show me Zurich, oui?”

“Aye, what do you want to see?”

“Surprise me,” I said.

He nodded. “Okay. Do you like dancing?”

“It depends who is zere wiz me,” I said, with a saucy smile.

“I’m not much good with the dancing, but I have been told of some really good clubs.”

“I am not dressed for ze clubs,” I said.

“Well, we could just go shopping, and then come back and change.”

“D’accord,” I said, and off we went.

We walked to the closest shopping area, but had to cross a wide river. I managed to lose the Walther as we went. I heard a satisfactory ‘plop’ as we passed over.

The shops were wonderful, but poor Alex had obviously never been shopping with a rich girl before. I spent nearly  £1000 on clothes, shoes and cosmetics, and I bought him a really cool jacket and some trousers. I had to get him two really nice collarless shirts. He was actually very good looking, but incredibly shy.

We had coffee at a pavement café, in the August sun, and I felt relaxed behind my new sunglasses. We laughed and told each other terrible jokes, and he began to open up a little. He told me about his father, and his high expectations of his son. He admitted he was terrified of failing, but he actually did not really want to be a doctor at all.

He was fiddling with his cup, so I sensed he was uneasy about something.

“Alex, why are you worried?”

He smiled, awkwardly. “I don’t know how to say this, Monique. But I’ve never met anyone like you before. I’ve said things to you that I’ve never told anyone before.”

“Zat ees sweet,” I said.

He smiled and looked into his empty cup.

“I like being with you. You make me feel good,” he said.

I looked at him and realised that he thought he was falling in love with me. I was flattered and pleased, but also terrified. The real problem was that I felt something for him. He made me laugh, I felt safe with him, and I wanted him to hold me and tell me everything was all right. This was getting tricky.

“I like you, too,” I heard myself say.

He smiled and took my hand across the table. I wanted to snatch it away, but my body made me squeeze it instead.

“Is there any way you could stay longer?”

“I do not know. It is difficult. Perhaps,” I said.

“I’d like you to stay for longer.”

“You are sweet. But zere ees many sings happening to me at ze moment,” I said, regretting the lie I was living.

“I love your accent,” he said grinning inanely.

I just smiled.

We returned to the flat, so I put away my shopping. I changed into a slinky royal blue dress that matched my eyes, and refreshed my makeup. We then walked across the bridge again into the centre, going into a large bar, which had a restaurant up stairs and dancing down stairs. He had taken my hand as soon as we left the flat, and I enjoyed the strange sensation this gave me.

We sat on high bar stools and ordered some beer. I was very conscious that my long legs were showing all my glory, so tried to pull the hem of my dress down as far as it would go, which wasn’t far. Alison would have called me a tart.

I liked being with Alex. Initially, he had been very uncomfortable in my company, but as he relaxed, he began to show his true character.

As I had discovered earlier, he had no real wish to be a doctor, he had actually wanted to join the army since he was about twelve. And all his frustrations just poured out. He had a very dry sense of humour, and we found we had a lot in common. Several times I just wanted to tell him everything, but had to hold back. I almost forgot the dangerous situation I was in.

We had a meal and then progressed down to the dance area. I cannot ever remember enjoying myself more. Alex was super company and completely non-threatening. He was obviously attracted to me, but was not aggressively passionate. He simply held my hand, and even during the slow dances, didn’t try to crush me, or rub himself against me. He simply held me, and I him.

We walked slowly back to the flat, at about midnight, hand in hand. Every time he touched me, my heart skipped a little, and I knew that I was making my life even more difficult. But I didn’t care.

He kissed me goodnight, and I slipped into bed with a silly grin on my face.
 
 
Chapter 9
 
 
I awoke early and had a shower. The dancing had caused my glue to become partially unstuck, so I had some more repair work to undertake. I loathed my male bits with a passion, and earnestly hoped to get rid of them as soon as possible.

The hair on my legs was beginning to return, so I used a foul smelling cream to de-hair my legs and arms again. I shaved my armpits, and noticed that my facial hair was still not coming through. I was so content in my female persona that I never wanted to be Matthew again. He represented my old life and all the horrible things that meant.

Monique was truly the person I was, so wanted to remain her. Her character was as far removed from Matthew’s as was her appearance. I dressed in a smart grey skirt and navy blouse. I so loved the feel of stockings that I wore them again, with the suspender belt. I had a silly thought that I would have to invest in a holster for my Glock. I looked at my reflection, and smiled. I really did look good. I put the Glock in my bag, with the spare clip.

Alex was just appearing as I left my room, and he was surprised at seeing me dressed at seven thirty.

“Shit. You look wonderful, particularly for this time of day,” he said.

“Merci, Alex. I wish I could say ze same for you. But you are, how you say, all sideways?”

He laughed.

“Yeah, I’m not my best in the mornings.”

I made us both a coffee and found the cereal as he watched the TV news. There was a bit more on the bombing and the killings. They were now linked, as someone had seen Will leave the scene just before the blast. I hoped that the same person hadn’t seen me.

“What have you planned today?” Alex asked.

“I will go to the hospital and try to see my friend. What are you doing?”

“I have to be there by nine for my interview. Any chance we can meet up for lunch, or something?”

I smiled.

“Of course, we can go together and meet after your interview,” I said.

“Great,” he said, and his whole face changed as he grinned like a schoolboy.

“Alex, I sink you like me a little, oui?” I asked.

He went very serious.

“Monique, I like you a lot. I don’t think I have ever been in love before, but I think I am now.”

I smiled.

“It ees ze same pour moi,” I said, and kissed him on the cheek. He needed a shave.

He held me and was going to kiss me again.

I held up a hand.

“Non. You will shave before you take all my skin off,” I said. He laughed and literally bounded off to take a shower. My heart was racing, so I kept telling myself that I was being totally stupid. Then I remembered it was my eighteenth birthday today.

“Happy Birthday, Monique,” I said out loud. The date of birth I had given Monique was the same as mine, but two years older. Monique was now twenty.

We were running a little late by the time Alex was ready, so we dashed off to catch the bus. We held hands all the way, and I kept trying to make myself try to be sensible. He didn’t deserve me, or all my troubles. I was dangerous and he deserved better. But I just so wanted to be with him, it was so hard, I almost burst into tears.

We arrived at the hospital to find things calmer today. There was security on the main door, but Alex showed them the letter and said I was his girl friend, so we were let in. We went to the teaching wing, which was right at the rear of the main hospital. I kissed him and wished him good luck.

“I will see you in ze same canteen at noon, okay?” I said, and he nodded.

I went off down the corridor. I found myself totally lost, but found a door that was obviously a storeroom. There were white coats, smocks, and all manner of medical personnel’s clothing. No one was about, so a few minutes later I was attired in a white smock, looking like any other medical auxiliary. I found an unattended trolley, with bandages and other stuff on it. There was a waste bag on one end, and I placed my shoulder bag in this, all the papers were in the bag.

I pushed my trolley along until I found some signs, and eventually managed to locate the general wards. No one paid me the slightest attention, even when I was at an unattended nurse’s station. I managed to get into the computer and entered Alison’s name in a search. I was able to ascertain her current location. Richard was still in intensive care.

Now all I had to do was find her. I located a map and worked out I had to go down to the second floor. I was on the fourth at the moment.

I found the elevator and rode down with my trolley and some other people to the second floor. I let them all out first, and then followed the signs for Alison’s ward. There was a female uniformed police officer sitting on a chair in the corridor. It didn’t take a genius to work out who was in this room.

I smiled at the policewoman, and simply pushed open the door. She didn’t even try to stop me.

Alison was standing, looking out of the window.

“Bonjour mam’selle Grover. How are we today?” I said in my cheerful nurse’s voice.

I turned my back on her, as I checked the door. She turned from the window, muttering something, and sat on the bed. She had extensive bandaging on her legs and arms.

I turned round and her jaw almost fell off.

“Monique. I thought you were dead.”

I put my fingers to my lips.

“Will was one of the bad guys. I followed him to an apartment, where he gave some Arabs the papers. They shot him, so I shot them, and have the papers safe,” I said.

She looked at me, shaking her head.

“Bloody hell. You shot them both?”

“Of course. What else could I do, give them a blow job? I’ve contacted the CIA, and will give them the papers later. I had to see that you were okay.”

“I am so much better to see you. My God. You’re amazing, how did you manage to get in. Shit, it’s you who should be the secret agent, not me.”

I grinned. “Just promise me that you are one of the good guys, I’d hate to have to shoot you too.”

“Oh, Monique, I am a good guy. I just wish I had never started this whole thing.”

There were some voices outside, so I turned and was busy with my trolley when the door opened. I expected real nurses or a doctor; I certainly wasn’t expecting John Vine in person.

He didn’t even see me, as I was just part of the furniture as far as he was concerned.

“Ah, DC Grover. I am Superintendent Vine. I have been asked to come over and make sure you are okay. I understand you’re on holiday, and have got caught up in this unfortunate incident?” he said, his voice would haunt my nightmares for years.

I made a play of checking Alison’s dressings, and stuck a thermometer in her mouth. I then held her wrist and looked at my watch. I kept my back to Vine as much as I could.

“D’accord, normal. You may be discharged soon, mam’selle,” I said.

“Thanks,” Alison said.

“Monsieur,” I said as I negotiated my trolley past Vine.

I left the room and pushed my trolley down the corridor. Then I just stood writing gibberish on the clipboard. Two Arabic looking men positioned themselves at either end of the corridor, but watched the police officer carefully.

Vine came out and walked straight past me to be with the Arabs.

“Right. Stay nearby, if she leaves, I want her taken out. If she gets any visitors follow them, and let me know where they go. Don’t fuck up, all our necks are resting on this. I will be with Mr Aziz at the hotel. Use your mobile if you have anything for me.”

He walked off, so I knew I had two urgent priorities. The first was to get the papers safe, and the second was to get Alison out. I went to the hall payphone and after several minutes the voice on the other end said, “CIA, Langley.”

I explained everything, and eventually was given someone who knew something about the affair. The CIA man said his name was Christopher Walford. He told me that he was the department head, and it was his operation. When I told him some of the names on the list, he was very quiet. I noted that his name was not on the list, but one of the names was the Zurich case officer.

He was aghast that Will had been bought and was now dead. When I asked whether the case officer from Zurich had made contact, I was told he hadn’t. I then said that I thought they ought to look carefully at him. I explained that I had told him I would make contact about the papers, and that if he was bent, any meet would be a trap for me.

“Monique, how would you like a job?” he said, as I explained about the two Arabs whom I had despatched after they had killed Will.

“Certainly, when I give you the papers, you give me a job, and a small fee,” I joked.

When he replied, I realised he was perfectly serious.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I need a birth certificate, and passport in my name, from both France, and England. I would like a social security number or national insurance number from both countries.” I then gave him the other details, like colour of eyes, date and places of birth, parent’s names and addresses.

“No cash?”

“I do not do this for the money.”

“I take it that Monique is not your real name?”

“It is now,” I said, and he laughed.

“Okay. Here’s how we play this. I will fly out with a team I can trust. I want you to contact the case officer and agree to meet him at the Opera house tomorrow evening at ten pm. Have you access to a fax?”

“I can have.”

He gave me three numbers and I wrote them on my clipboard.

“The first is mine, the second is the security advisor at the White House, and the third is the FBI director. They are all in the book, so you can verify that I’m on the level. I will call each of them and tell them what to expect. Now the papers will be less vital.”

“What about the disk?”

“Ah, first I have heard about that. Give it to me when you see me.”

“When will I see you?”

“At the Café Royale at six pm tomorrow.”

“D’accord, au revoir,” I said.

“Monique, you’re a brave girl. Fax me a photograph of yourself, that way I will know you, and I can use it for your various documents. Don’t worry, as we have the technology to make the photos look good. I will have all the documents you want when I see you. They will all be the real thing too, and I will add a US passport and birth certificate too. But, after this is over, you will work for me, comprenez vous?”

“Oui, merci,” I said, and hung up.

I pushed my precious trolley down to the elevator, and went to the next floor up. There was an admin office, so I walked in and simply asked if I could use the fax.

A bored girl hardly looked up from the computer and nodded.

Ten minutes later the US authorities had copies of all the papers.

I returned to my trolley and pushed it out of sight, retrieving my bag. I saw an unattached wheelchair and had an idea. Looping my bag over the back I pushed it to the room next to Alison. The police officer had been relieved by a male colleague, and the two Arabs were not in sight, but I knew they were there - somewhere.

I went onto the next room, which had an elderly person lying in the bed. The name Walter Khun was on his headboard.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, in German.

He nodded, and I looked at the chart as a nurse would. Then I smiled, and tried the adjoining door that I had seen earlier. It was open, so I pushed the chair into Alison’s room.

“What…?”

I put my finger to my lips to indicate silence. Seconds later, she was in the wheelchair, with a blanket over her body, and a bandage over her head.

I pushed her through the adjoining door, and out into the corridor. I went straight past the cop, so I smiled sweetly at him. He grinned and I could sense he was watching my bum. So I gave an extra wiggle as I walked.

At the elevator, I saw the Arab lounging in a chair, reading a paper. He glanced at me and the chair, but watched to see what I did next.

When I pushed to go up, he lost interest, and went back to his paper.

At last, we got to the same storeroom where I had acquired my uniform. In a couple of minutes, Alison was in the pale blue trousers and tunic of a theatre nurse. We even found some slip on shoes for her bare feet. I brushed her hair, while she put on some make up. She looked much better now.

“Are you okay to walk?”

“I’m fine, as long as it isn’t too far.”

“Okay, we are going to the canteen, to grab a bite to eat. If they find you gone, they will expect us to be a long way from here.”

“You’re the boss,” she said with a smile.

We found the canteen and looked just like two nurses on their break. I was actually quite hungry, and even Alison managed a coffee and a sandwich. I went to the corridor and used the payphone. I called Harry Lamb, the case officer on the list, and arranged a meeting at the opera House at ten pm the following day. It was still before noon, but Alex arrived early, and frowned when he saw me.

“Monique, why are you dressed like this?”
 
 
Chapter 10
 
 
“Alex, this is my friend, Alison,” I said, dropping the French accent, with some relief, I might add.

“Hello,” he said, “You haven’t answered my question. Hey, what happened to your voice?”

“Alison was wounded in the bombing. She is a British Police Officer working with me on something. I didn’t want to get you involved, but I find myself having to, as you deserve the truth. Sit down, please.”

He just gaped at me, and sat down, hard.

“Alex, I work with the CIA. We’re trying to crack an international conspiracy of terrorism and corruption. The problem is that some of our own people have been bought, and the bomb in the café was meant for me. I am sorry I wasn’t able to tell you before.”

“But, last night, and this morning?” he stammered.

“That was real, I didn’t lie to you then,” I said, and Alison groaned and rolled her eyes.

“I knew there was something different about you. No way could you be only nineteen. You are far too confident and self-assured to be a simple job seeker.”

“Hey if it is any consolation, it is my twentieth birthday today. But I am so sorry to get you mixed up in all this,” I said.

He just shook his head, and had an odd smile on his face.

“How did the interview go?”

He grinned. “I failed.”

I smiled, knowing that he so wanted to fail.

“What next?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“What you do, and whether I can tag along.”

I looked at him. “Alex, this isn’t some sort of game. Alison was blown up in a bomb explosion, and her arms and legs were severely lacerated by flying glass. An FBI agent is lying critically ill in intensive care, and a CIA double agent was shot. You could be killed. So if you feel anything for me at all, leave us alone.”

“I can’t, I love you,” he said.

I stared at him, while Alison groaned a terrible groan.

“Alex, I’m not what you think.”

“I don’t care. In the short time I’ve known you, I feel alive for the first time. You make life exciting, as you’re so fresh and vibrant. I just want to be part of whatever you are. I want to be with you.”

“Alex, I’m no good for you. I lied to you.”

“You had to, it’s your job.”

“But you know nothing about me.”

“I don’t care, I love what I do know.”

“Oh Alex!” I said, in real frustration.

“Monique, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

I looked at him, and then at Alison.

“Don’t look at me, kid, you got yourself into this mess all by yourself,” she said helpfully.

“Alex, you don’t want me. I can never have children,” I said, pulling out some real truths.

“I don’t care, we could adopt.”

“Oh Alex, you are so obstinate,” I snarled.

“Yup,” he said, grinning like a fool.

I threw my hands up in frustration, but he took hold of them.

“Monique, if that is your name. Just answer me one thing, and honestly. If the answer is no, then I will gladly turn round and walk away.”

“Go on.”

“Do you feel anything towards me?” he asked, and his eyes bored directly into my soul.

I tried to lie, but my voice failed me, and I felt tears come to my eyes, partly in frustration, and partly in genuine hurt. Because if I told him the truth he would certainly remain in danger.

A sob escaped from me, but he stood and drew me into his arms. “You do, don’t you?” he asked, almost triumphantly.

I nodded, as I could not trust my voice. What had happened to me?

“Okay kiddo, now you have screwed up another poor innocent, what do we do next?” Alison asked.

“We get you back to the flat and back to bed. We all have a quiet evening in tonight, as tomorrow I have to go to work,” I said.

We walked slowly from the hospital and down the street, where we waved a taxi. Just as we got into the cab, several police cars turned up at the hospital. They must have found that Alison was missing.

Alison was clearly tired and in pain. We almost had to carry her into the flat. I put her in the other bed in my room, and changed her dressings, as I had thoughtfully brought along several spares.

None of the cuts were dreadful on their own, but together, they were very messy.

“Where were you when it went off?” I asked.

“I was going after you to the loo. Someone stood up to leave, and they took most of the blast. Poor Rich was in the brunt, it was a miracle that he survived.”

“I was very lucky,” I said.

“What made you follow Will?”

“Just a feeling. I was right as it happens.”

“Thanks, you may just have saved my life,” she said, in a very quiet voice.

“Is there anything you haven’t told me?”

She shook her head and lay back on the pillows.

“You must get the papers to Langley.” she said.

“Done, and the White House, and the NSA,” I said. Her eyes opened wide with surprise.

“I’m surprised they haven’t offered you a job.”

“They have, and I accepted it,” I said, with a little smile. She laughed, and then grimaced as the pain hit her.

“Nothing you do surprises me, anymore. Even if you were to become pregnant.”

“Ah, that is even beyond my skills,” I said, and she dozed off with a smile on her face.

Alex was standing looking at my bag.

“I’m sorry, it fell on the floor,” he said.

The papers and gun were lying amongst all the money. My ID papers were in his hand.

“Who are you, really?”

I looked at him.

“Now, I am Monique Bonnard. You don’t need to know who I was. Someone different, and not very nice,” I said.

“Are you French, English or American?”

“Yes, I am French, English and, I suppose in a silly sort of way -American. My father was English, my mother French, and I work for the CIA. Happy now?”

“I thought being a doctor was glamorous.”

I laughed and put everything back in my bag, checking the gun.

“Shit. This is for real, isn’t it?”

“Yes Alex, it is.”

“Why can’t you have children?” he asked, changing the subject rapidly.

“Because of a genetic defect. I don’t have all the necessary equipment.”

“I know some very skilled doctors,” he said.

“Alex, later, okay? Right now I have some more pressing problems.”

He smiled, but shook his head.

“This is all unreal. It’s like a movie.”

“Sorry Alex, this is real, no fake blood or blank firing guns in this plot.”

He stared at the gun, as I slid it into my waistband.

“Have you ever used that?”

“Not this particular one, no,” I said, quite honestly.

“Another one?”

I nodded.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“Do you really want to know?”

He nodded.

“Yes, two men,” I said, “Happy now?”

He stared at me.

“You were right, I don’t know you, really.”

“It’s not too late; we can be out of here if you say the word.”

He looked at me, and I had to fight from crying, as his expression was just so damn tender.

“Could you walk away?” he asked.

“If it meant keeping you safe, yes,” I lied convincingly.

“Would you?”

“Are you asking me to?”

“No, I want to know if you would.”

I stared at him.

“If you wanted me to, I would,” I said.

“I’m not asking. I don’t want to lose you, I only just found you.”

I smiled and turned away.

“Monique.”

I looked back.

“I really do love you, I know it’s completely daft, but I do.”

“I know; that’s what makes it so damn difficult.”

“Why?”

“Too many reasons. You’re going to be hurt in any case, so, let’s just get through this first, and then take each day as it comes.”

He took my hands and drew me close to him. He really was a big bloke. I felt small and weak engulfed by his embrace. He lifted my chin and kissed me properly for the first time.

I had enjoyed Rich’s kisses, but nothing prepared me for this though. I simply melted, as my whole being tingled with pleasure and desire. My response was as a woman, so I clung to him as if this was all that mattered.

When I finally came up for air, I was weak at the knees. Alex started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Me. I always fancied myself as James Bond, and here I am kissing the female equivalent, so I’m just one of Jane Bond’s bits of male crumpet,” he said.

I smiled, more at the word ‘female’ than anything else.

“Oh Alex, this is such a mess.”

“Why?”

“It just is. Look, have we got any food in the house?

“I doubt it, I haven’t bought anything.”

“Then go any get us all something. Anything. Even bread and cheese would do.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay,” he said, and kissed me.

I went and sat with Alison for a while.

She was in some pain, so I gave her some painkillers that I had snaffled from the hospital.

“Is it bad?”

“I just can’t get comfortable.”

“How about lying on your tummy?”

“I tried that, it hurts my boobs.”

I started to laugh and she joined in.

“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts too much,” she said, laughing more.

I took her hand.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“What for, I got into this shit all by myself?”

“I guessed about Will, and let him go.”

“Look, you’re ten times more clued up that me, so don’t beat yourself up. Okay?”

I nodded.

“What is more to the point, what the hell are you going to do with bonnie Prince Charlie?”

“Who, Alex?”

“Who else?”

“I don’t know. I have tried to put him off. Honestly, I have,” I said, seeing her expression.

“Yeah, not very hard,” she said.

“It’s very difficult. I kinda like him a lot,” I admitted.

“We don’t half get ourselves in some deep shit, girl,” Alison said, and we both started giggling again.

Alex returned with a superb Chinese take away and a bottle of wine. We had a lovely meal, after which he and I sat and chatted into the small hours. He held my hand, but never even tried anything further. I was relieved, but also a little disappointed, even though I could not have been more irresponsible.

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To Be Continued...