You meant it for evil - 09 by Maeryn Lamonte “Ok, we'll have that drink, but not the movie. I have something else in mind. It'll involve a bit of walking, how are you're shoes?” Sharon glanced down. “They should be alright for a few miles. What do you have in mind?” “You'll see. Text Phil, we'll need to have him along.”

-oOo-
Phil appeared ten minutes late, mercifully alone. I saw him first and waved him over feeling both relieved and oddly guilty.

“How's Pete?”

Sharon had bought him a pint along with our drinks when we'd first arrived. He slid onto the seat next to her and downed about a third of it before answering.

“Not the happiest of bunnies I feel. He asked me why it is that the most beautiful girls always turn out to be man hating lesbians, then told me to watch out in case you turned Sharon against me.”

“He did what?”

Sharon was indignant and I had to put out a hand to keep her from jumping up.

“It's ok, it's kind of a thing with some blokes; he had to find fault with me or otherwise admit there was something wrong with him. The sad thing is he'll continue to be a prick until he faces up to the truth.”

“That still doesn't give him the right...”

“I know but knowing he can't really help being an arsehole takes the sting out of it somewhat.”

Since the main jibe had been directed at me and I wasn't showing signs of being upset, Sharon backed down reluctantly, grumbling under her breath. Phil took another heroic swig of his beer, belched quietly into his hand and changed the subject.

“Ok so what's this all about? Sharon said you needed me for something.”

“It's something I have to show you more than tell you. Finish your drink and we'll get started.”

A couple of minutes later we were back out on the streets and heading away from the other Friday night revellers. It took me a few minutes to find my bearings, but after that I picked a direction and started walking. Whatever Sharon had said, her shoes were not designed for distance and neither were mine. I suspected we were both going to regret this little tour in the morning, but this was something I needed to do.

We walked on into the dark, Phil, our great protector, hanging back more and more and looking increasingly nervous.

“Girls, are you sure this is such a good idea? I mean there's only one of me and I'm no fighter. What if we bump into a group of druggies who take it into their heads that we should finance their next fix? I doubt I'll be able to protect myself let alone you two. It hardly seems sensible to deliberately put ourselves in harm's way.”

The point was well made and I regretted thinking poorly of him, but I felt a calm inside and I knew somehow that we'd be alright.

“It'll be fine.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I can't, but I feel it. Listen, you're right, I have no right to drag you into this. You two go back if you want to, but I'm going on. There's something... I don't know, I just have to.”

I stepped into a dark alleyway and heard footsteps beside me.

“You don't think I'm letting you go in there on your own again do you?”

This was followed by a few muttered expletives and a heavier footfall.

“Alright, if we're going to do this, let's do it.”

I didn't say anything but inside I smiled. I should probably have felt more guilty than I did, but it was still reassuring to have them along with me.

The sickly sweet smell of partly decomposed refuse assaulted our nostrils as we picked our way carefully through the filth from one street into the next. Here and there it was added to by the stench of stale urine and other things too unsavoury to mention. They were deserted, apart from the suggestion of movement in some of the darker shadows which suggested rats; much to my unexpected alarm.

We walked on taking turns seemingly at random, but somehow I knew where we were heading. Eventually we came out on a street next to an old brick railway bridge. The arches had been closed off with brick walls, each set with a wooden door, a good number of which had rotted and been broken in. I walked up to one of the open doors, Sharon and Phil close behind me, and peered in to the gloom.

As our eyes adjusted to the deeper darkness within, we made out what at first sight appeared to be a mound of cardboard and paper rubbish, then it moved and first one then several pairs of eyes looked up at us. They were young eyes, clear and wide with apprehension, set in faces camouflaged to near invisibility with accumulated grime.

“It's alright, we don't mean any harm.”

I don't think it would have mattered what I said at that point, they backed up against the far wall like cornered animals. I squatted down on my heels and held my hands out in what I hoped was a friendly gesture.

“I only want to talk.”

They stared back, still too afraid to respond. This wasn't going well. I decided that if all I was doing was scaring them, perhaps I should back off. I stood and withdrew from the doorway.

“I'm sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Oy! What do you think you're doing?”

I looked up to see a largish man walking towards us, arms filled with blankets and followed by three others of similar size carrying similar burdens. They were dressed warmly and sensibly in jeans and donkey jackets making me highly self-conscious of my own clothes.

“We don't mean any harm. We're just... Well it's kind of my idea, we're looking to see something of, well what these people have to live with. Try to get some idea on how we can help.”

“Well you'll excuse me if I find that hard to believe. I mean look at you, you look like you've just come from an effing party. I mean what is this, some new sort of late night entertainment? Come and see the homeless in their natural environment and feel better about your miserable sodding lives?”

A few timid faces had appeared at the door we had just vacated and the four newcomers turned and set about handing out the supplies they had brought. I found myself flushing at the rebuke, I mean he was right, what was I thinking coming here like this with no idea and no answers. Sharon noticed my reaction and came bristling to my defence.

“Listen there's no reason to be unpleasant about it. I mean ok, we're not dressed for it, but this was kind of a spur of the moment thing. We really do want to help.”

He looked us up and down, a dubious expression on his face. I wasn't paying much attention, instead I was looking at the face of a young boy standing by the door holding his new blanket. He was giving me an odd look.

“Hi, my names Liz. What's yours?”

“Anthony.”

“Do you mind if I ask how old you are Anthony?”

“I'm eighteen.”

He looked a couple of years younger, but then that could have been the effects of living on the streets. I offered him an attempt at an encouraging and friendly smile.

“That's the same age as me. Look, I don't mean to pry, but I'm interested in knowing more about you and your friends. If I ask too many questions or if I ask something that seems to nosey, just say and I'll stop. If it's ok though perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me how long you've been living here and how you came to be here.”

“I have a question for you.”

“Sure go ahead.”

“What's someone like you doing here? Why are you interested in me and people like me?”

“Fair question. It wasn't that long ago that I was a bit like you are now. I was lucky though. I found some friends who helped me get off the streets before anything unpleasant happened to me. I don't want it to end with just me though. We were having a drink earlier and it didn't seem right sitting there all dressed up and enjoying ourselves when there's people like you out here. I wanted to come and find out a bit more, see if maybe there's something we can do to help. What do you think?”

“I think you as too many questions.”

He turned back into the ruined storehouse leaving me wondering what I'd said wrong this time. I noticed the big man looking at me, his expression softened.

“Tony's been here a couple of months. Ran away with his younger brother from an abusive home. The brother was picked up by one of the government initiatives and rehoused; they prioritise kids under the age of eighteen. Tony was too old to qualify though so he's still stuck here. Are you serious about what you said? About being on the streets? About helping?”

“Oh yes, completely serious. I have a few ideas but not enough information yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I was lucky, I was only out on the streets for a day and a night before I made friends who helped me. That does mean that I don't have much idea on what the situation is, so although I have some ideas on what might help and how I might go about making them happen, I need to know what the situation is and what would be of most help before I go off half-cocked and make everything worse.”

He nodded his head and, seemingly making up his mind, held out a beefy hand. I took it and had the life squeezed out of mine.

“I'm Bob. You say your name is Liz?”

I nodded trying hard not to wince as I reclaimed my hand and waited for my blood to find its way back into the crushed veins.

“If you're serious about learning more, why don't you swing by our base of operation tomorrow, say about elevenish, and I'll tell you everything you need to know?”

He gave me his address and I dug a pen and paper out of my bag to scribble it down. He then turned to Phil.

“Now can I suggest you escort these lovely ladies back to civilisation. Not everyone around here is all that friendly and I'd hate for something nasty to happen to you.”

“That's just what I was trying to tell them. Erm, perhaps you could tell us the quickest way out from here.”

He pointed and we followed his directions, finding our way first back to better lit streets, and from there to a tube station and bus stop that would take us to our respective homes. We hadn't achieved a great deal, but at least we'd made contact of sorts, and Bob seemed like someone worth talking to.

Phil waited at the bus stop with us until a double decker with our number on it lumbered out of the dark, then they kissed Sharon goodnight with promises to meet up the following morning. I was right about the shoes as well. As soon as we were seated on the bus, they came off and we spent most of the journey home massaging some life back into each other's stockinged feet.

-oOo-
Saturday started slow over coffee and a late breakfast. Both Sharon and I were quiet and reflective, not talking much, each of us lost in our own separate worlds. My feet were still complaining after the abuse I had inflicted on them the previous night. It gave me an opening.

“Next time I'll plan my excursions enough in advance to suggest more appropriate footwear. I hope your dogs aren't barking like mine.”

“Shh, not so loud. Toby's sensitive to words like that.”

As if in answer, the king himself poked his head into the kitchen and came over for some attention.

“Hello you, I haven't seen you for a few days.”

Never mind that, scratch me behind the ears. Go on, you know you want to. Is there anything to eat around here?

It was so easy to imagine the words, almost as though you could hear them spoken. Sharon got up to fill a couple of bowls.

“They do that sometimes; disappear for a day or two, then come back when they've outworn their welcome elsewhere or finished whatever business they had. Cindy and Bella will be around somewhere too, they always travel as a unit. Kind of odd for such solitary animals.”

“You've lived here quite a while haven't you?”

“Four years, just over. Why?”

“I was wondering how you might feel about moving.”

Sharon put the bowls of cat food and water down and came back to the table. The other two cats appeared at the promise of food and set about demolishing the small mound of jellied meat.

“What brought this on?”

“I don't know, it's just that now I'm being paid I can pull my own weight a bit, you know pay some of the bills, food, rent, that sort of thing. It's only fair. Then I thought that between us we could easily afford somewhere larger than this. I mean don't get me wrong, I like this place and it's kind of cosy the way things are, but I'm sure you'd appreciate a bit more space with maybe somewhere to be on your own from time to time. And if we could get a place with two bathrooms...”

She sat down, trying to wrap her thoughts around the new idea. I'd already been thinking about it for a while though and had managed to erect a whole list of hurdles.

“I mean I don't know how you'd feel about it, you have a lot more invested in this place so it's probably unfair of me to suggest it, plus I know cats tend not to like to move around too much. Then there's Phil. I don't know how long you guys are going to take to get back to thinking about marriage, but sooner or later I figure you two are going to be looking to move into your own place. It's just that I really like living with you and... Sh!t, I'm making a mess of this.”

“No you're not sweetie, I'm just a bit surprised I haven't thought of it.”

“Well it has been a busy couple of weeks.”

“You could say that. No what I mean is that I was talking to Mr Bryant the other day when he came for the rent and he was asking if I knew anyone who'd be interested in the flat opposite. It seems my neighbour's moving out at the end of the week.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It would solve so many problems. You'd have your own place but we could still spend as much time as we wanted together. I'd get my closet space back and you'd have room to extend your wardrobe. We'd both have the privacy we want and that extra bathroom which sounds like a wonderful idea. Then if Phil and I do get hitched, and that's still a way from decided, you'd still be here if one of the cats wandered back into the neighbourhood.

“What do you think, shall I give him a call, see if we can look around later?”

“Wow, ok. What are the chances?”

“It seems like someone upstairs is still looking after you.”

“Yeah, maybe. You'll understand if I reserve judgement on that kind of thinking.”

That kicked things off into a sort of impromptu planning session on how we'd organise the two flats and keep communications between us open with two doors between her living space and mine. We had half a dozen working solutions for various things more or less decided when one of us spotted the time and we both jumped into get ready mode.

I decided on jeans and sweatshirt with my comfortable boots as I expected things to be a bit rough and ready down at Bob's place. They still looked brand new and I fully expected Bob and his friends to laugh at me for being so posh even when I was dressed down. Oh well, couldn't be helped. I shrugged my shoulders and followed Sharon down to the bus stop.

“Are you sure you don't mind being on your own today?”

“No, I have loads to do. I have to open a bank account then I have that meeting with Bob later this morning. I'm sure he'll be able to find some way to keep me busy.”

“Yeah, but that's hardly a way to spend your Saturday is it?”

“I don't know, it'll be different.”

“I suppose.”

She lapsed into a silence that suggested a question she wasn't sure she ought to ask. I waited her out and eventually she caved.

“You know there's one thing I can't figure out about last night.”

“Mmm?”

“How did you know where to go? I mean I know you spent a day and a night on the streets, but from what you said, you never went anywhere near that neighbourhood during your wanderings, so I don't understand...”

“You remember that dream last Sunday?”

“Not likely to forget that in a hurry.”

“No, me neither. It was very vivid.”

“What you mean...”

“...that I went there in my dream, yes, and I used the route we took last night.”

“So the place you were at the end of the dream...”

“I'm not ready to go there yet. Dream or not the memories are too overwhelming.”

-oOo-
We parted company at the other end of the bus ride, Sharon to meet with Phil at some undisclosed location and me to go about my own business. First and foremost was setting up a bank account. I'd been happy enough with the bank I'd used as Ken so decided to continue my business with them. It took half an hour of giving details and I left with a few sheets of paper and the promise that my card and chequebook would arrive through the post within the next week.

After that I went shopping for phones. I spent a while talking to a salesman in a phone shop and had to pass on the phone I wanted, current funds being limited to the advance Karen had given me the previous day. In the end I hunted out a second hand shop and picked up an old but serviceable no-frills model that had been unlocked, then bought a pay-as-you-go sim card from a mini-supermarket. Of course I then had to phone through to Sharon with my new number.

“No it's just temporary until I get my first full pay-cheque and can afford a proper phone. No you should see this thing, I think it's previous 'one careful owner' was Noah. No I'm fine, I'll see you later. Bye.”

I checked my watch; half past ten, loads of time to get to the address Bob had given me before eleven. The first fifteen minutes I took my time, looking in shops and not much liking the clothes on display; it's amazing what two half days parading about in quality fashions can do to spoil you for the better things in life. After a while the shops gave way to more functional, less attractive buildings and with no further distractions, I picked up the pace, arriving at my destination with five minutes to spare.

Bob's Building Supplies was a big sprawling yard stacked high with bricks, sacks of sand, cement, wood, you name it. Just inside the gate was a loading area with a half-dozen vans and flatbed trucks standing in front of some low buildings. Unsurprisingly it wasn't in the des res part of town, but to own so much real-estate this close to the square mile was still pretty impressive. The gates were open and there were signs of one or two people moving about. I took that as enough of an invitation to walk in as far as the nearest building and knock on the door.

“Come in.”

I recognised the voice, raised as it was like the first time I'd heard it. I pulled the door open and stepped into a small, cluttered office.

“Hi, remember me?”

Bob looked up at me in some surprise and took a few seconds to find his lost bearings.

“Hi. Er yes, I mean yes I do remember you. I just wasn't really expecting you.”

“You did say eleven o'clock?”

“Eleven, yes. It's just that I didn't expect you to take me up on the invitation. I've met quite a few people from your side of town; they make nice and seem interested, but as soon as you suggest they come find out what it's all about... Well let's say you're the first who's actually done something about it. I notice your friends didn't come with you.”

“Yeah, they had other things arranged, besides it was kind of me who dragged them along last night. I'm not disturbing you am I?”

“Only from doing my VAT returns, and I'm prepared to forgive you for that. Drink?”

The coffee smelt fresh and welcoming. Apparently the smile and the dreamy look in my eye answered for me as he poured out two mugs and handed one to me.

“Ok, so what do you want to know?”

“Oh, pretty much everything. As I said last night, I was only on the streets for a day and a night; long enough to see that there's a problem, not long enough to learn what's needed to fix it. I also said I had a few ideas, but I don't want to explore any of them too far until I have a better idea as to whether or not they're going to be worth anything.”

He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk.

“Actually, if you don't mind, I'm kind of interested in your story. You say you were on the street one night only. What happened? How did things change for you?”

I shrugged.

“You remember the woman I was with last night? Her name's Sharon. We met just after she'd had a domestic with her fiancé and she didn't want to be alone, so she invited me to stay for a few days. We became friends and she extended the invitation indefinitely. She also introduce me to some of her friends, one of whom sorted out some irregularities with my paperwork, and the other offered me a job.”

“Wow, talk about falling on your feet. I suspect there's more to the story than your telling, but that's ok. It does a good job of describing what most of those people out there are missing. They don't have a permanent postal address which means they can't open a bank account, can't register for benefits, can't even apply for a job. That means they have no means of supporting themselves, paying for food, clothing, rent, which means they can't get a permanent address and so the vicious circle goes round.”

“And that's all they need? Somewhere to stay and a bit of help looking for a job?”

“For a lot of them pretty much, yeah. Statistics show that individuals who stay on the streets for more than two years tend to want to stay there. They get used to the life and find they can do without the hassles of bureaucracy and responsibility, and since they can get by out on the streets, a lot of them choose to stay there. Then there are those with drug dependencies and similar problems; they're the tough ones”

“So how come the government can't fix it, or at least part of it? I mean surely it isn't that difficult or expensive to set up hostels?”

“The problem isn't quite as simple as that. There is a constant flow of new street people every year; quite often asylum seekers who don't understand the system and fall through the cracks when they step a bit out of line. That and the government's main approach to dealing with the problem has been to throw resources at groups like ours who are already trying to do something about it. Most of those resources go into keeping the three thousand odd people out there alive with only a very small number of places able to offer halfway house facilities and then only to relatively few people.

“Sometimes it seems as if the government are in denial as well. About ten years ago they said they would deal with the problem of homelessness in London once and for all by the year 2012. They would lose too much face if they were to turn around now and say that the problem is getting worse rather than being solved once and for all, so instead they do spot counts to estimate the homeless population and these show the numbers decreasing from about two thousand eight years ago to just over five hundred now. The problem is those figures are inaccurate. If they were to ask people like us who are out there working with the homeless on a daily basis, we'd tell them that in the last eight years the number of homeless has risen from over two and a half thousand to over three thousand. They don't want to hear stuff like that though, so they stick with their stats and that means the resources they were offering us are drying up.”

We chatted on for a while, him sharing the experiences of people he'd met on the soup runs; what they were dealing with and what they thought could help, and me talking about my ideas — which he called 'highly ambitious' — and listening to his suggestions on them. Time seemed to disappear and before we knew it, an hour had passed. He was the one who noticed first and jumped to his feet.

“So, how d'you feel about getting your hands dirty?”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Can you cook?”

“I'm learning. I can do chef's assistant.”

“Good enough. We do two soup runs to different parts of the city on a Saturday. The first one is in about an hour and a half, and we need about twenty gallons of soup. Can I add you to a kitchen crew? You'll be mostly chopping vegetables, nothing fancy.”

“Lead the way.”

And so that's what I did. We headed into a largish kitchen that had been purpose built on site and I spent one hour peeling and chopping potatoes, onions, carrots and similar to add to one of the large vats, then we filled Thermos flasks which we loaded into a couple of vans along with tin mugs and bread rolls. Bob invited me to join him in one of the cabs while three other volunteers climbed in behind.

“So you do this every weekend?”

“We do this every day and twice on Saturdays. There are a quite a few of us involved thought, so most of us probably average one run per fortnight. It's worth it though, you'll see.”

And see I did. The amount of food we brought with us fed about fifty people, but we didn't just hand stuff out. Bob took the time to introduce me by name to pretty much everyone who came up to the van, and we spent a good couple of hours chatting to them before gathering in the dirty mugs and heading back to the yard. I was silent on the way back until Bob smiled over at me.

“Takes you like that the first few times.”

“Huh?”

“Doing a run like this. The first time you really understand that they are human beings and not just numbers on a page. Burrows deep in here.”

He thumped himself in the chest and I knew very well what he was talking about.

I helped him wash up the mugs and flasks when we got back to the yard, giving his crew a much appreciated early escape. Through most of it I chewed over my thoughts and feelings, until eventually one floated to the surface.

“You're pretty fortunate having a place like this.”

I indicated the kitchen and the yard around it.

“Yeah I am. My grandfather founded the business; he was a Robert too. Between him and my father, they grew it into the sprawling empire you see around you. I certainly couldn't afford this land if I wanted to buy it at today's prices, and I've had some very tempting offers for it over the years. The thing is I grew up here and I like it, that and it's way to useful as a base of operations for the soup run, so I guess I'll keep the whole thing ticking over then pass it on to my kids when they're old enough, assuming they want it. If not they can sell it. By then it'll be their problem, their responsibility.”

We finished up then I went to fetch my coat while he locked the buildings.

“My brother's coming in to take the evening run so I'm heading off home now. Thank-you for your help and for your company today; it was very much appreciated by all. I was wondering if by way of thanks, perhaps I might offer you a lift somewhere.”

The afternoon's activities had taken more out of me than I had realised and, comfortable boots or not, I wasn't looking forward to my walk back to the city. I accepted gratefully and asked if he could drop me somewhere near my bus route and he over-ruled me, insisting that I tell him where I lived, then set about driving I don't know how many miles out of his way to drop me at my front door. I climbed down from the cab and turned to say goodbye.

“Thanks for everything, you've given me a lot to think about, not to mention the eye opening experience this afternoon.”

“Well if you fancy doing it again any time, you know where to find us. You'll be more than welcome.”

I shut the van door and waved him off, then turned and walked gratefully back home to a hot bath and a glass of wine. There was a twinge of guilt as I thought about the many people I'd met this afternoon for whom such luxuries were quite a way out of reach, but all that did was strengthen my resolve to do something about it.

It was getting on for six by the time I emerged, wrinkled but relaxed, from the bath. I texted Sharon to ask what she and Phil had planned and she responded to let me know they intended to stay in the city for food and entertainment. I made myself a light salad for tea and curled up in front of some awful brain-rot on the TV. It can't have been massively interesting because the next thing I knew was the sound of the door closing as Sharon came breezing in, filled to the withers with the wonderful time she and Phil had enjoyed.

We chatted for a while, and I managed to keep my eyes open long enough to register that their relationship was well on its way to being back on track. Sharon noticed me drooping and shooed me off to bed, telling me I could share my day's experience with her in the morning. I did make it to the bed, but left Sharon the job of hanging up my dressing gown and pulling the duvet over me.

-oOo-
I dressed down for church, I mean as much as I could, given that pretty much all the clothes I owned were brand new. I wore a fairly ordinary green skirt and top, partly because Sharon told me some of the older women at church had a thing about girls in trousers (and why rock the boat?), but mostly because I wanted to. I had great legs and I liked showing them off. A pair of spearmint coloured tights and a pair of green tennis shoes finished the casual look. Karen might have a fit, but I was hoping that maybe I'd look a little less intimidating to the street kids, assuming of course that they came back this weekend.

The service was similar to the previous week's effort, except that I tried joining in with a few of the songs this time. Pastor James spoke on relationships, which had Phil and Sharon snuggling closer to each other and me rolling my eyes, until he moved onto talking about our relationship with God. Yet again I realised that I had some unusual experiences in my life that most people didn't. I couldn't ignore that God wanted something to do with me, but I had no idea how to go about responding. Something to raise with the pastor if I had a chance after the service.

The last notes of the last song retreated into stillness and we were all invited to stay for coffee or tea and to enjoy the rest of the day. In the same way as the previous week it seemed that the entire congregation leapt to its feet and, by some bizarre modified version of Brownian motion, managed to move in a totally chaotic way across the room in all directions at once to form small groups of people desperate to chat about this, that and the other. Chairs disappeared into stacks courtesy of half a dozen young men whose job it was this week, and I was left standing in my own island of stillness as everyone else moved around looking for their place in the crowd. Even Sharon and Phil had followed some deeply ingrained instinct that I as yet did not possess.

I looked around for the group of street kids and found them at the back, queuing up for drinks and biscuits. I weaved my way across to them and managed to emerge from the throng close to the young man who had assumed the role of leader the previous week.

“Hey.”

He turned round and looked down at me. His face wasn't exactly welcoming, but neither was it rejecting.

“Hey.”

“Look, we got off on the wrong foot last week and I owe you an apology. I didn't mean any offence by what I said, but I wasn't exactly diplomatic with my choice of words either, so I can see why you were upset. Any chance we can give it another go?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were definitely giving me an all too casual once over. I chewed on a smile and waited. Eventually he realised what he was doing and gave me a half smile back.

“My name's Liz”

I held out my hand. Best to establish friendship rather than suggesting anything more. He took it and shook it.

“Aaron.”

“Can I be candid with you?”

Again he shrugged, but I had more of his attention. Strike while the iron is hot.

“A couple of weeks ago I was homeless, only I ended up being a lot luckier than you guys. I made a friend and she helped me get my life back together. I wasn't out in the cold long enough to really understand what you guys go through, but just long enough to realise that it isn't something anyone should have to experience. I want to do something to help, and I don't mean just offer you money or a meal or stuff like that. I want to find a real way to help. I have some ideas, but they're at an early stage at the moment and probably won't start to see light of day for some weeks at least. When they do though, I'm going to need some help and I figure the best people to provide that help are going to be you guys. That way you're really helping yourselves.

“It's a bit of a stab in the dark, no guarantees that it's going to work, but if you don't try you definitely don't get. What do you say? Give the mad, rude girl a chance, or keep on as you are?”

“You know that may sound nice and encouraging when you hear yourself say it, but if you get our hopes up then the whole thing falls flat on its face, where does that leave us?”

“Pretty much where you are but with a bit of disappointment to deal with. Look have you ever been in love?”

“I get the feeling I might be soon.”

I'd forgotten how awkward younger guys could be at chatting up girls. He was smiling oddly and I allowed myself a small smile, not enough to encourage him, but maybe just enough to let him know I hadn't taken offence.

“Ok, forget that. Would it be worth giving it a go if there was a pretty girl around showing a bit of skin?”

“For that it may be worth it.”

“Ok Aaron, shall we shake on it then? You and your friends give my crack-pot ideas a go when I ask you to help and I'll make sure there's some eye-candy there for when you turn up.”

We shook and I withdrew, not wanting to risk undoing what I had achieved. Aaron jerked his chin at me and called after me.

“Hey, what was that thing about falling in love?”

“I figured sometimes the girl says no. That's gotta hurt, but it doesn't stop you from asking the next girl does it? You have to try stuff now and again, 'cos even if it doesn't work out, you know that maybe one day when you try something new, it will.”

I turned away from him, but glanced back over my shoulder. He was still watching me with his cute half smile. Hmm what was that feeling?

I didn't have a chance to explore it as I bumped into the brick wall that is Pastor James.

“Oh, hey little lady, are you alright?”

“Oh sorry pastor, I wasn't watching where I was going. Did I spill anything?”

“No I think we're good. It's great to see you here again. You know I don't think I caught your name last week.”

That's because I didn't really have one last week, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

“I'm Liz.”

You wanted to talk to him about his preach; go on, this is an ideal time. But I couldn't. Somewhere between the thought and the action there was a break in communications. And I lapsed into one of those silences that threatened to have us both shuffling our feet. The pastor had some experience in dealing with awkward situations though. He offered me away out and I took it.

“So we didn't frighten you off last week then? Usually when visitors come two weeks in a row it's because they found something they like.”

“Well I already have some friends here; Sharon and Phil, Karen Blackheath, Clive Anderton-Buckley. That and the whole atmosphere is rather friendly. The singing's a bit odd to start with, not much like church ought to be, but it's nice.”

He laughed his easy-going laugh.

“You know I never really had much of an idea on what church ought to be. It's just a bunch of people who love God getting together to spend some time with each other and their creator is all. It doesn't need hymns and rituals.”

“That's kind of refreshing.”

“I've always thought so. Did I notice you talking to our fringe visitors again?”

“Yes I've been thinking about a lot of things, including what you said to me last week. I don't know if my ideas will amount to much, but I thought it might be worth a try.”

“I'm glad to hear you say that and I'd love to hear more of your ideas. I wonder would you like to come over for lunch next Sunday. It'll just be Marion my wife and me, and if you prefer we can invite one or two others, Sharon and Phil for instance?”

“That's really kind thank-you. I'm not sure if Sharon and Phil might have something on next weekend, but can I accept for all of us and maybe let you know if there's a change in plan?”

“That'll be fine. Sharon should have my number, otherwise you can get me through the church office. The number for that is on the notice sheet.

“You know you don't have to wait till next Sunday if you have something you want to talk to me about. Just pick up the phone and I'll make time for you.”

With that he gave me a nod and walked off towards a group of women who had been trying to attract his attention. I couldn't help wondering if he was psychic or something. That was the second conversation we'd had where he seemed to look inside my head.

Karen walked up to me then, making a display of mock horror at what I was wearing and I offered her a twirl as I had the previous week, then we were laughing and I was explaining the reason for my less than glamorous appearance. Whatever was left of my conversation with Pastor James evaporated in the face of the new one with my boss.

Karen introduced me to a number of her friends and we found a wide range of nothing much to talk about until the magical motion of the crowd brought us round to Phil and Sharon just as they were looking to leave. Karen grabbed my arm before I withdrew from her crowd and turned me to one side for a quiet word.

“I was thinking. It's not too much out of my way to drop by and pick you up in the morning. How would you fancy a lift tomorrow?”

“Only if you allow me to pay half the petrol.”

“Ok, you're on. I'll see you at quarter to eight.”

“I'll be ready, bye.”

And with that I re-joined my two best friends and we headed off to see what we could do about lunch.

Sunday afternoon was the usual mix of good food and good company. There had been a note under the door from Mr Bryant suggesting we might like to view the flat next door on Monday evening at about six thirty. Of course Phil spotted it and wanted to know what it was about, which gave us our major topic of conversation for the afternoon. After we had enjoyed a light tea together, both Sharon and I begged the need for our beauty sleep and Phil, gallant soul that he is, told us that neither of us had anything to worry about on that score. Still, he headed off home leaving the two of us to our baths and hair washing, mixed in with liberal amounts of girl-talk.

Girl-talk. Just thinking the phrase spread a warm, fuzzy glow throughout my body like an explosion of love bugs. I hugged myself as thought trying to keep the feeling in.

“Penny for them?”

“Oh I was just thinking how much I love being a girl. I wouldn't give this up for anything.”

“Yeah, sure you say that now, but wait a few years 'til you're old and fat and tell me the same thing.”

I mused on that for a moment.

“No it's not just that. I mean yeah, the looking good is a big part of it; the clothes, the way guys look at me now; but there's so much more. Having friends like you to share everything with, not having to try so hard every day just to fit. Even with all the less pleasant things I've experienced in the past two weeks, even with what you just said, this is me, this allows me to be all me.”

“No regrets? Not even one?”

“Well two maybe. The first is my family; they must be worried sick about me and I can't tell them about this, not yet. I will though. One day I'll find a way of getting in contact with them and breaking all this gently enough that they'll see it's very much for the best.”

“And the other?”

“Well I never got to be a little girl. I keep wondering about all the things I missed out on being Ken.”

I thought I caught the vaguest hint of a mischievous glint in Sharon's eye as she turned away, but it was soon forgotten. We did the hot chocolate and early bed thing. I had been worried that my excitement and nervousness over the coming week's work would keep me awake, but the soft velvet feeling of being who and where I belonged stayed with me and settled me into Morpheus' arms.

-oOo-
In the end there wasn't much to be worried about. We woke early as usual and were ready in good time for Karen when her short beep on the horn brought us scurrying out of the flat. We waved each other good-bye as I climbed into the front of the car and Sharon headed on to the bus stop, all of us being just too aware of how bad the traffic was close to Sharon's place of work and not even suggesting that she should ride with us. Karen gave me a cheerful smile as I buckled up.

“You look lovely today Liz.”

I'd chosen a short, loose fitting cotton dress, mainly because it would be easy to slip on and off during the day and, because it was a fairly neutral colour, had spruced it up with a light pink scarf and sash belt. After Karen's mock horror expression the previous day I had decided that some sort of effort was in order. Still no makeup though. The first piece of advice I'd received in this business still held.

“Thank-you, so do you.”

“Yes, but I'll bet you didn't have to work so hard to achieve it.”

“Still worth it. You look like a million dollars.”

I exaggerated the American accent on the last two words And was rewarded with a quiet chuckle.

“So, are you ready for your first full day?”

I told her how nervous I felt and she spent the rest of the journey suggesting survival tips. Some quite simple ones like keep hydrated; something I'd worked out already; and some more involved like mixing my moods between the different clothes I was given to wear, trying to slow things down where appropriate, not just to vary the range of my expressions in the photographs, but also to give me a rest from the energy I'd brought into my previous times in front of the camera.

The day was fun. I mean I won't bore you with details, because essentially it was just more of the same. Andrew's patois had enough jokes in it to keep us laughing when he wanted that look and I took encouragement from his constant stream of positive comments and managed to give everything I did the appropriate amount of energy throughout the day.

I was quietly pleased to see that I'd been assigned the same assistant as the previous two occasions. In the brief snatches of conversation we managed to fit into the morning, I discovered her name was also Liz, she was married with two children — yes there were photographs — and she had been doing this for twenty years, pretty much from straight out of school. We spent a little more time chatting over coffee and lunch, and by the end of the day were firm friends. Getting into other people's lives was so easy and I kept wondering why I'd found it so hard as Ken. Perhaps because I hadn't felt as comfortable in myself as I did now, I knew that made an amazing difference to my self-confidence.

The day's shooting came to an end and I helped pack things away. Karen reappeared, having spent the entire day in her office and on the phone and asked Andrew how it had gone. By way of answer he took her over to the computer in the corner and picked out a couple of dozen shots from the pages of thumbnails. Most were of me, not that I was counting, and by the time I hauled my weary behind into Karen's car and she headed us both homeward, she was already commenting on how good an investment I was turning out to be.

Mr Bryant knocked on the door fifteen minutes after Karen dropped me off. Sharon had already been home when I arrived and we were both halfway through a glass of wine and well into sharing the details of our respective days when the interruption came. The short tour showed the next-door flat as being a little larger than Sharon's, but in a lot worse condition. The previous tenant had managed to break or damage most of the furniture as well as to badly mark the walls and carpet, but even so there was a lot of space and the place had 'potential' to use real-estate parlance. I suggested to Mr Bryant that perhaps he might want to let the place to me unfurnished and we agreed on a rent that was quite a bit lower than Sharon's. I offered to redecorate for half the first month's rent and he agreed as long as he got to approve the colours. We signed some papers and he said he would arrange for the broken furniture to be removed over the weekend. I asked if I could bring some colour swatches around for him to look at on Saturday and he agreed, replying to a part of my anatomy that suggested he probably wouldn't spend much time looking at the colours. I would probably be able to get away with painting the place hot pink and puce if I chose, still that did mean I had a good chance of getting the colours I wanted.

The rest of the week was more of the same. Long days followed by Sharon's brilliant cooking, my exhausted taste buds hardly able to do justice to her creations, and my lessons in cooking suspended until such time as I wasn't worn to a frazzle. If I still had a spark of energy after we'd eaten, we'd talk or veg out in front of the box, otherwise there would usually be a soothing bath and an early night.

Friday ended up being a short day much to everyone's surprise and delight. The hard work during the week had more than caught up the two days when Karen had been let down by her second model, and as we were all eagerly anticipating the three-thirty break, Andrew unexpectedly called out.

“Ok girls, that's a wrap.”

There was stunned silence for a moment then a ragged cheer. At Elizabeth's insistence — everyone called her Elizabeth to distinguish her from me — I pulled on my dressing gown and followed her out from behind the screen. Andrew was already popping the cork on a bottle of champagne and after filling a dozen or so glasses for everyone in the crew, passed them round and raised his first toast in my direction.

“To little Liz, who's exuberance and energy has taken us from a day behind to today's early finish.”

“Hey I didn't do anything more than you guys.”

Charlotte, the other model, rolled her eyes at that.

“Are you kidding! Everyone slows down as the day goes on. Except you of course. You hit every queue, and I could hardly let you show me up, especially on our first shoot.”

I was aghast.

“I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was doing anything out of the ordinary.”

Charlotte came over and gave me a hug.

“I'm not complaining kiddo. We made the deadline which means there's no forfeit to pay, and personally I could do with the money.”

I gave Elizabeth an accusing glare but she just shrugged and grinned back at me.

“We had to see what you had in you on your first time out didn't we?”

Everyone was laughing and raising their glasses to me, obviously no-one was too upset. The noise must have disturbed Karen because she appeared in the doorway. She caught sight of the champagne glasses and the look of surprise and hopeful delight on her face was worth the week's hard work.

“Are you guys trying to tell me that we're finished?”

Andrew shrugged, nonchalant to the end.

“Not only finished, but I think you will be more than pleased with the results.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and ooing and ahing as Andrew and Karen worked their way through the thousands of images and made their selections, putting them up on a large screen for all of us to see. By five o'clock they had all been selected and written to a couple of DVDs as well as a USB drive. These were placed in a padded envelope and handed to a motorbike courier who headed off to the publishers. Tomorrow, regardless of it being Saturday, they would be turned into a catalogue in digital form which would then be sent over to the printers, who would run the presses through Saturday night and most of Sunday, ending up with several thousand printed catalogues being loaded up onto lorries and heading out for distribution ready for use on Monday morning.

If everything had been pushed back a day, the publishers and printers would probably not have been available straight away to do their part, delaying distribution by possibly as much as a week. As it was the three-thirty finish had inserted a welcome two hour buffer into the tight schedule. Karen joined us in a second glass of champagne after the courier headed off then headed back into her office, returning a short while later with a handful of payslips, which she then proceeded to hand out. There were generous bonuses added to the already, in my mind, generous salaries. When I opened mine I froze solid as I looked at the number. I looked up at Karen's face to see if maybe she'd made a mistake and almost cried at the grateful smile she was giving me. I looked back at the amount of money soon to go into my bank account. It seemed I would be able to furnish my new flat completely without having to wait for next month.

Then came the presentation of the racks. All the girls who had worked on the shoot in whatever capacity chose something off the racks. In many cases they'd have to wait for an outfit in their size to be sent through to them, but for Charlotte and me there was no such problem. When it was my turn, Andrew stepped forward and asked if I'd mind him suggesting some things. I'd learnt to value and appreciate his taste and invited him to go ahead. He instantly pulled out the first two dresses I'd worn, what he'd called the Autumn Cloud and the Emerald Radiance, then he picked out four more. There was only one I wasn't so keen on, and asked if perhaps I could exchange that for one I'd seen in a photograph of Charlotte. Her size and colouring was close to Sharon's and I'd been quite blown away by it, even more so as I imagined Sharon wearing it.

And that was that. We left the packers to put everything away for the last time and I piled my spoils, still in their plastic protectors, into the back of Karen's car.

We were both too exhausted and too lost in our own private thoughts now that the week was over to talk much, and satisfied ourselves by filling the car with contented sighs all the way home. We arrived and I realised I had a question.

“So what happens now?”

“Now you take a week's well-earned rest then you and Charlotte will be invited to the unveiling of the new line. It'll be next Friday. I'll call you beforehand, arrange to send you a dress suitable to the occasion and for a limo to pick you up. After that there'll be a number of press releases and media events. I'll send you an itinerary as soon as it's been finalised and Andrew will probably have some ideas on what you should wear to each one. Again, we'll provide the clothes. Beyond that, I guess we'll see.”

I climbed out and retrieved the new additions to my wardrobe from the back of the car. I was just about to wave Karen off when she wound down the window and leaned over

“Oh, you'll be expected to have an escort for next Friday. If you can't find one, let me know by Wednesday and I'll arrange something.”

She drove away completely oblivious to the churning mess of emotions she had just stirred up in me.