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Memories,
Like the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were.

Marvin Hamlisch

Previously…

I jumped slightly as I felt someone kiss me gently on the lips. Opening my eyes, I smiled; now that was a nice kiss and I wouldn’t have minded some more like that, even on my bed of pain.

‘Oh, Samantha, we’ve been so worried. When you fainted like that in Marcia’s office and then bashed your head–it was awful. I was in the pottery when Marcia rang. I dropped everything and I’ve been here all day. How are you feeling, love?’

‘Apart from, sick and a headache, not forgetting double vision and being weak all over, I’m fine.’

‘Trust you to joke like that. Now, you don’t have to worry about Candice. She forgives you and agrees it was understandable under the circs. It’s funny; Candice isn’t too bad in small doses. I think that she’s had a bit of a wakeup call over all this. If you thought automatically that she sent the letter; it means that a lot of people think that she isn’t very nice. Maybe she will be better in future. She said that she would see you when you feel a bit better. Jo, Katie and everyone send their love and the cats are all missing you heaps.’

She paused for breath and I looked at her.

‘Erm–sorry, but who are you?’

And now the story continues…

‘I’m Abby, don’t you recognise me?’

I looked at her pretty face and her gorgeous eyes and kissable lips…

‘No, I don’t know, you seem to be someone I think I know, but it’s just out of reach–the memory I mean.’

‘Don’t worry, the doctor says you have what she thinks is temporary amnesia and you could pull out of it any time.’

‘That’s good; I don’t like to be confused. So, my name’s Samantha?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Nice name. So who’s Olivia then?’

‘Your estranged wife.’

‘Oh right…estranged wife! I don’t understand–unless we had a lesbian marriage?’

Abby sat down by the bed and held my hand. ‘Look, you’re confused now but I have to tell you that physically anyway, you’re a man. You’re transgendered and are a girl inside. You want to be a girl outside too, but you still have penis that you want to change as soon as possible…Do you remember any of this?’

‘I’m not sure, but it sort of rings true. So I still have a willy then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Eeeeww, that’s not very nice.’ I yawned, feeling very tired all of a sudden. My head was still pounding, but I think that the builders were just about to call it a day inside my head and might down tools at any moment–with luck.

‘You’re tired, honey, why don’t you go to sleep.’

I looked at her through eyelids that were already fighting to stay open.

‘Are we close?’ I asked sleepily.

She leaned over and gave me another kiss with those warm, slightly moist, soft lips.

‘Very close,’ she smiled.

‘That’s nice,’ I said as I finally gave in and knew no more.

Next morning I wakened to the sound of curtains being pulled back by a nurse. For a moment I wondered where I was, as I wasn’t at home in my cottage and Abby wasn’t cuddled up next to me–then it clicked, nurse equals hospital.

Suddenly, I sat up in bed. ‘Ouch,’ I said holding my pounding head.

The nurse turned to me and said, ‘Oh, awake are we?’

‘Yes we are,’ I said a bit crossly, ‘sorry.’

‘That’s all right, dear; you’ve probably got a bit of a headache still. Let’s have a look at you.’

She came over and looked into my eyes.

‘Mmm, how’s your memory?’

‘Okay, I guess.’

‘Do you remember who you are?’

‘Of course.

‘Who are you then?’

‘Samantha Smart. Look, what am I doing here and why have I got this God-awful headache and why is my head bandaged up like an Egyptian mummy?’

‘So you don’t remember anything about yesterday?’

‘No, well yes. I remember going home and that vile letter and–oh no, I got this horrid letter and I went to the surgery and–and––’

I broke down in tears at that. It all came back to me–how I had wrongly accused Candice and she was crying and I was pacing the room and then I felt faint and I didn’t remember anything else. But the enormity of my actions made me want to go and dig a hole, get in and cover myself up again.

I felt a hand on my arm. ‘Now, stop that nonsense, dear. You mustn’t get upset. Look, your friend’s outside, she’s been here all night; you don’t want to her to see you like this, do you?’

‘N—no.’ I sniffed.

‘Good girl. Now, I’m just going to get the doctor, so she can give you the once over and then your friend can come in.’

With that, she clicked out on noisy heels and I shut my eyes to cut out the glare of the strong sunlight coming through the windows.

Abby was outside. What would she think of me? I was a girl who went around accusing people of doing nasty things. I was once again a failure. I couldn’t do anything right.––

The door opened and a woman doctor walked in. She was nice looking, about my age and had a pleasant smile on her face. ‘Hello, Samantha, feeling any better?’

‘A bit. My head hurts though.’

‘Yes, probably it’ll hurt a bit for a little while, but we can give you something to help. Now can you remember my seeing you yesterday?’

‘Not really, it’s all a bit fuzzy.’

‘Well, the memory is a funny thing. You’ve had amnesia, caused by a fall; you hit your head and that’s affected your memory. We gave you a scan last night and although you had some bruising and a bit of swelling, you hadn’t done any permanent damage to yourself. Right then, let’s have a look at you.’

She shined a torch in my eyes, asked me to follow her fingers and then when she finished that, asked me some silly questions about who I was, my birthday and even who the queen was! She then checked my vision and seemed pleased that I wasn’t seeing two of everything. After that, she seemed satisfied that I wouldn’t shuffle off this mortal coil for a while yet.

‘Fine, I think that you can go home with your friend. We need the bed for ill people. If you feel sick or faint or go all funny-peculiar, come back and we’ll sort you out; okay?’

‘Yes and thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it. Your memory’s going to be a bit patchy for a few days, but it should all fall into place quite soon. A few things you will probably never remember, but that’s just the way it is. Anyway, I know your friend wants to come in. One of the nurses had to physically restrain her, so we had better let her loose!’

The doctor left and, almost immediately, Abby rushed in.

‘Sam, you’re okay, then?’ She came and gave me a hug. It was so good to see her and I had vague recollections of her being with me last night–oh, it was all so frustrating!

‘I’m okay,’ I said, ‘but I’m not sure that you want to know me after what I did to Candice.’

‘Don’t be such a silly sausage. What would I do without my Sam? Anyway, I told you last night that everything was okay.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes; I told you that Candice had forgiven you. Look she wants to see you when you feel a bit better. She’s not quite the ogress that we first thought. We’ll chat about it more when I get you home. Light duties for you for a fortnight and then I can send you down the tin mines again…’

‘Oh no, not the tin mines–ANYthing but the tin mines!’

We both giggled at that. The nurse came in then to find out what the noise was all about and after staring at us disapprovingly and mumbling something about acting like schoolgirls, she gave me some co-proxamol pain killers.

‘Right, the doctor has said you can leave when you like, but you must not do anything strenuous for at least a week. Keep taking the co-proxamol three times a day or you will soon feel it. By the way, NO alcohol when you’re taking co-proxamol. If you feel sick, the headaches get worse or anything else that doesn’t seem right either contact your GP and if she isn’t available ring us.’

‘Thank you,’ I said gratefully.

Abby helped me out of the yucky hospital gown and into a blouse and skirt. Checking myself in the mirror, I realised that my accident hadn’t improved my looks and the bandage around my head could hardly be considered a fashion statement.

It was sooo pleasant getting back to Jellicle Cottage. It seemed that Abby wanted to play nursie with me. I do love a girl in a uniform and because, in the dim and distant past, she had been a nurse–albeit a student one–she promised if I was a good girl, she would put her old uniform on for me and when I was a bit better, she would give me a thorough examination.

I was still very upset over the Candice incident and I wanted to go and say sorry to her. However, Fussy Abby said that I wasn’t allowed, so I decided to write her a note instead, and Abby promised to deliver it for me. I struggled with what to write. What do you say to someone you have accused of sending a poison pen letter? I didn’t like her, but that was no excuse. Finally I wrote:

Dear Candice,

‘I am very sorry that I accused you. I automatically assumed that you were the author of the letter and I apologise for that and hope you will forgive my hasty jumping to the wrong conclusion. I know that we haven’t hit it off and I do very much want to make it up to you. If you can find the time, would you like to pop around for a cup of tea sometime? I’m staying with Abby at the moment as I can’t be trusted by myself. Mind you, it’s nice to be waited on hand and foot for a change. I just hope that I don’t get too used to it!

Anyway, once again, please forgive me for being silly, stupid and judgemental.

Yours sincerely,

Samantha

P.S. I would love to meet your transgendered child, after all the two of us have quite a lot in common and could be of help to one another.

Samantha

I read and re read through it several times and although I wasn’t totally content with it, I put the letter in an envelope and put it on the side for Abby to deliver for me.

I felt quite washed out after that, so I went to bed for a while, just lying on top of the covers with a blanket over me. Abby had gone out to get me a prescription from the chemist so I was by myself, or I thought I was until Biscuit, the ginger tom, jumped up on the bed, purred loudly and then proceeded to use me as his personal cushion, “making bread” on one of my faux boobs.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I awoke, there were no less than three cats on the bed, all asleep and purring in harmony. I could hear banging coming from the kitchen, so I sat up. My head was still a bit sore, but the lump on the back of my head had gone down from an ostrich- to a hen-sized egg.

I eased myself out of the bed, trying not to disturb the cats too much and then went to see what was going on.

Abby was whisking something in a bowl.

‘What’s that gorgeous smell?’ I asked, kissing her slightly floury cheek.

‘Baking a cake, to welcome you home.’

‘I’ve only been away one night.’

‘I know, but I still wanted to bake you one. How do you feel?’

‘Better, headache nearly gone and the lump on the back of my head doesn’t feel so ginormous.’

‘That’s good. Now go and sit down somewhere like a good girl while I finish what I’m doing here and then I’ll make us both a cup of tea. All the gang have rung and asked how you are. They wanted to come around en masse, but I put them off until tomorrow. Now do as I say and go and sit down.’

‘Yes, Miss.’

She looked at me, blinking slightly. ‘I’m not too bossy am I?’

‘You’re sweet, adorable and definitely edible, and you’re not too bossy, except in bed, when I have to lie back and think of England, Ireland Scotland and Wales.’

‘Why all four?’

‘Because I am a quarter of each–I have multi-cultural genes.’

‘Jeans? I thought you preferred skirts.’

‘Funny ha-ha!’

I went outside and sat on a deck-chair on the patio. It was still nice and warm, but the days were getting a bit shorter now and soon autumn would come, with the multicoloured falling leaves and promises of wind and rain. One thing, evidently we didn’t get much snow here, according to old salts such as Jocasta.

After a few minutes, Abby came out with a tray and put it on the table.

‘Mmm,’ I crooned seeing the freshly baked scones, cream and obligatory jam. ‘Are you trying to fatten me up?’

‘Well you could do with a few more ounces and I do need some love handles to grab on to.’

As I had just taken my first bite of scone as she said that, she was rewarded with a fine spray of crumbs as I nearly choked with laughter.

‘Yuk!’ she exclaimed, brushing crumbs off her blouse.

‘Well, you shouldn’t say things like that to a sick girl. I might have a relapse.’

‘Oh gawd, you’re going to milk this for all it’s worth, aren’t you?’

‘Yup,’ I replied, a bit smugly perhaps. For a few moments, things were fairly quiet as we concentrated on the serious matter of consuming scones. After washing things down with a nice cuppa cha, I turned to other more serious matters.

‘Abby, if it wasn’t Candice, d’you suppose it could it have been Nigel sending that horrible note?’

Abby looked at me and smiled sadly; ‘I think so, love; either him or Olivia.’

‘I don’t think it could be Olivia; I’m not sure that she would be so cruel. She is silly, juvenile–she’s never grown up really–but it’s not her style. No, I do think that it was Nigel.’

‘Katie’s looking into the matter and has our tame private dick is looking into it.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t use American slang with dubious connotations.’

‘Blimey, Sam, you must be getting better, you couldn’t even add up one and one yesterday!’

‘You make me sound as if I was as thick as that cream on your plate.’ I said. ‘you––’

Just then, we heard a loud bang on the knocker.

Abby jumped up and went to see who it was. I just threw a couple of stray bits of scone in the pond and watched the ducks scrabbling about, trying to eat the bits before disintegration occurred. Then for some reason the ducks all disappeared into the reeds. I just shrugged my shoulders. Perhaps they don’t like scones? Everything sort of went quiet then and it was a bit strange, as I couldn’t hear the normal noisy cries of the seagulls and the sky was empty––

Abby came back with a funny look on her face.

‘Erm, we have a visitor,’ she said and then moved aside.

‘There you are, Samantha. I looked in at your cottage and the damn’ nosey parkers across the lane told me you were here. What have you been doin’ with yourself?’

‘Erm, I had a bit of an accident, Lady Fairbairn.’

‘I heard from the vicars wife. Why wasn’t I told? Never mind that. ‘Heard you had a bump on the noggin. Didn’t crack yer skull did yer?’

‘No, Lady Fairbairn.’

‘Then why’re you sittin’ here and not workin’ on me portrait?’

‘Uum, the doctor said––’

‘–What do doctors know? Quacks, the lot of ’em. Why, in my day, we were always fallin’ off our horses and bashin’ our brains. Did it stop us? ’Course not. Young gels of today, don’t know what pain is. Do you know, that good fer nothin’ maid of mine had three, three days off when she said that she had that bloody swine flu. Swine flu, my eye–she had a damned cold; a damned nerve too. A few sniffs and it’s like double pew* to some people. So, I suppose you are going to laze about for days and not get anything done.’

‘Only a few days, m’lady. I’m as keen as you to get crackin’–I mean cracking on your portrait.’

She looked at me with a glare that would have pierced tank armour. ‘Hmm, I suppose you do look a bit peaky. You’re one of those delicate gels, I suppose?’

I looked at Abby who for some reason hadn’t said a word and was hiding her mouth behind one of her hands. I would deal with her later, if I had the strength to hold the loofah.

‘Not very delicate, m’lady.’

‘Hmm, well I’m orf to see that woman at the florist. I noticed a definite droopin’ in the delphiniums in church on Sunday. I will not accept substandard flowers. Good day.’

With that she turned around to leave and then stopped and looked back at us both.

‘You may both come to tea on Sunday. Dress informally, but not too informally.’ She turned again and left us. I could hear the sound of cats scrambling out of the way as she sailed over our horizon.

Abby looked at me and I looked at her and then we just burst out laughing.

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* double pew: How some people–like Lady F for example–refer to double pneumonia.

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To Be Continued...

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, help with the plot-lines and pulling the story into shape.