In which the diligent reader can find a new ballgown, divers conversations, both of hope and of despair, together with a meeting by a fountain. Oh... and did I mention the note under the door? Nobody could ask for more. Could they?

Because David's tale is slow in its serialisation, and long in the telling, it was suggested to me that the following character list might help in jogging reader's memories. Hope it does.

Previously encountered Characters in order of appearance/mention.

David. (Victor Jackson)The hero whose adventures we follow. Generally referred to by others as Sophie. ‘Recruited’ and then subjected to months in ‘Reception’ before progressing to the ‘Holding Wing’ where much of the subsequent action, apart from his stay in the hospital facility, took place. Has now spent some time at the Finishing Centre at Helgarren Hall itself.

Mrs Townsend. Staff. The beautician

Anne. She was already at the Holding Wing before David’s arrival. Her background is that of a boy saved from drug abuse and social problems by one of the charitable organisations under the aegis of the Venumar foundation. Was ‘promoted’ to the Finishing Centre with David.

Helen Vanbrugh. Grace de Messembry's close confidante on whom she appears to exercise a moderating influence. She was at David's first interview when he was named Sophie. It is to be assumed that she has director status in the Venumar Foundation. She facilitated David’s move to The Finishing Centre, offering to use her influence with the Principal there that he may receive a special non-hormonal dispensation. This promise was however unfulfilled.

Grace de Messembry. Majority, perhaps sole, shareholder in the Venumar Foundation, which in itself is the controlling influence of numerous international companies. She is apparently the source and instigator of all David’s current woes.

Emma.Was also at the Holding Wing before David' arrival, but is a genetic girl. She represents the other, outwardly charitable, function of the Holding Wing, which is the education and training of girls coming from under-privileged and troubled backgrounds. Now graduated from the Holding Wing returning as a junior staff member. Together with Anne is a support to, and confidante of, David.

Simon. A member of the Rook Club/Writers' Guild whom David chose 'faute de mieux' as a possible boyfriend when pressurised to find one. David has had one fumbling encounter with him which did not however lead to a complete consummation of their putative relationship.

Dr. Pinecoffin. Overall Executive Head of Helgarren Hall. Together with Grace de Messembry and Helen Vanbrugh she was present at David's initial interview after his stay in Reception.

Dr. Victoria Walters. A surgeon in the employ of The Venumar Foundation. She was responsible for his recovery after his knifing. She is in charge of the medical facility at Helgarren Hall.

Laura. David’s mentor in the ‘Holding Wing’. Her other charges then being Anne and Emma.

Coralie. A late ‘recruit’ arriving at the Holding Wing after David. Tried to knife Grace de Messembry but the attempt was instinctively foiled by David and she was sent to rehabilitation as a result. She shares David’s background, having been forcibly recruited and conditioned at Reception before arriving at the Holding Wing. Now also at The Finishing Centre.

Dr. Tabatha O’Neill. Staff. Psychiatrist/Hypnotherapist

Chapter 42.

“Isn't it exciting Sophie dear?” Mrs Townsend lightly touched the back of David's hand with each of the two lipsticks in turn and examined the slight smears they left with a critical eye.

“I think the bluer one works better now the evenings are drawing in, don't you dear?”

David looked at the two scarlet marks and nodded his agreement. “ Yes Mrs. Townsend, much, much better.” And it did too he thought. Odd really. This time last year he would have seen no difference between the two reds, but now he did. It was easy when you looked closely, obvious really; just as he knew which shade would suit his lips best.

“Of course it all finally depends on what you are going to wear. We can't really make a final decision until then.”

“Have you decided yet? On your own outfit, Mrs Townsend?”

“Oh Sophie dear, I have the most gorgeous thing. I found it in a second hand shop in Cheltenham last Spring, but hardly, if ever, worn. A nineteen thirties creation. Classic haute couture of the period. Must have cost the earth at the time. I have been saving it for a special occasion such as this.”

“It sounds ravishing. You will put us all to shame.”

“Well, although I say it myself .... it does do wonders for me.” Mrs. Townsend made a deprecatory gesture .... “But what about you Sophie dear. You have so little time ..... and having to choose from a catalogue is soooo difficult.”

“I thought perhaps I could prevail on you to help me. I really do need advice and you have such an eye for these things....”

At least, David thought, it would be something less to worry about. It would take the responsibility of his shoulders, and not just the responsibility; having to make conscious choices between different pieces of female attire still bothered him, still seemed a betrayal of his true self. Better that it were done by others.

Better that others choose .... And yet he knew it would be an endless topic of discussion over the days to come ... and that he would play his part in examining the minutiae of the what they all would wear. And the appropriate hair styles. And that he would have to endure the immersion in all things feminine. And feared that, for a part of him at least, the involvement might not be too painful.

And perhaps it was better to accept this way. To rail against it but accept by inertia, so that it stole over one, until one day one woke up and were .... what they intended you to be .... and you found it was not at all terrifying, nor difficult, nor accompanied by any feeling of loss or alienation. But the most natural thing in the world.

And the rest, what had been, what he had been, just a fading memory. A memory of something that had at best been but a dream.

“I'll pick out a couple of styles, Perhaps for Anne as well. Pity we can't all go out shopping
together .....”

Mrs. Townsend's voice brought him back.

“Yes, that would be lovely.” But he knew, as did Mrs. Townsend that it would not happen. Not yet anyway. Not until it would be far too late for anything but an afternoon revelling in shopping, all girls together ....

It might have been a reaction to the happenings of the last couple of days, perhaps even that his conditioning was kicking in, drawing him back from the abyss of action, but he felt curiously detached and lethargic. He knew that they were right. He only had at the most ten days. After that ..... But he felt leaden as if the knowledge belonged to someone else, concerned someone else.

So he drifted through his session. And the next one, a group session on 'Fashion' with Mrs. Shelton, which at least allowed him to sink into the background sheltering behind the other girls' willing participation.

Anne dragged him for a walk with Bramble in a break in the afternoon programme, circling towards the gate house in an elaborately random way, pausing on a little rise which gave them a good view of the road between it and the Hall itself. 'Reconnoitring' as she called.

“ I could hardly sleep last night, my mind was going round in circles. Ten days doesn't give us much time and there is so much to do Sophie dear.”

David smiled at her, feeling guilty at the remembrance of his own eager seeking of refuge in comforting, forgetting, slumber.

“And I decided that the first thing to do is for you to pack a going away bag dear. With all your documents, credit card, driving licence etc., together with some suitable clothes, sensible shoes and a change of undies, so that if anything comes up suddenly you can just up and go and ....”

Anne paused

“.... I mean .... If you intend to go as a girl that is, although I don't see how you could go as a boy .... I mean ....”

“No Anne of course I would have to go as a girl, I have no other clothes, and all my documents are for a girl, and .... and .... I look like a girl ....”

Anne nodded. “Of course, once away afterwards .... you can .... well change back, but you need to get away first.”

“And I thought,” she continued hesitantly, “I .... well, you will need to take them until, until you can conquer the addiction, I mean, for a while anyway .... well I thought you will need to take with you as big a supply of hormones as possible and if I gave you some of mine as well you, they would tide you over until ....”

“.... and you will need to pack those ready as well .... and perhaps the OGTA .... although that may not be necessary if it is only a mild addiction .... But better safe than sorry perhaps.” Anne finished lamely

“Yes better safe than sorry,” David repeated, fighting the need to curl up and lie still until the world had passed him by.

“And you will need to plan what you will do. Where you will head for ....”

“You make it sound so easy Anne dear. If it works, if I do get out ....”

“Not if Sophie dear, when, when you get out, Of course it will work dear.”

“Yes Anne, when I get out .... I don't really know. They know where I live in London .... Perhaps the police, I don't really know.”

“That is what I mean Sophie, you must work it out in advance. Although the police are the last people I would rely on. They will probably be out looking for you. With the Minister of Science and Technology's support. “Anything from 'poor girl, suffering from delusions, need to save her from herself, already a history of attempted suicide etc. etc.' at the best, to 'dangerous psychopath with a history of violence against hospital staff etc. etc.' at worst. Probably an ingenious cocktail of both.”

David nodded. It would be the Venumar Medical Research Institute's word against that of an unknown transsexual whose transitioning had brought her acute psychological problems. The police's only concern would be how to get him into a straitjacket without first taking off his handcuffs.

“ The Foundation will look for you. They can't allow you just to wander around out there. Not that they fear you would implicate them in any criminal activity, because of course no-one would ever believe you if you tried. In fact if you were to make a fuss the only certainty is that they would find you that much easier. I imagine every police station, hospital, and medical centre in the country will be warned and on the lookout. Not to mention the ports and airports.”

“It's nice to be wanted”

“Then your cup of happiness will o'erflow dear. You are just too valuable to lose. They have already made that plain. It's not what they have spent on us so far, in their terms that is a mere bagatelle, it's our value as vital constituents in an experiment that matters. As crucial data our worth must be incalculable.”

“We have only Helen's word for that, about us being part of an experiment. And her track record in the truth stakes is hardly without stain.”

Anne shrugged.

“What else could it be? Nothing else makes sense. Even she must tell the truth sometimes. She couldn't get through the day otherwise.”

“We're back to the why again. Back to the 'bare branches'. It would be so much easier if we knew....”

“But we don't Sophie dear. And are not likely to find out in the next few days. Once out of here you can buy the book. Perhaps the truth lies there. Perhaps not. But first you have to get out. And once out you have to make sure that you aren't brought back. And for that you will need to disappear. Without trace.”

David nodded. “Yes. You are right. But first I need to get out and that ...”

“No Sophie you need to prepare now for when you have got out. Otherwise you will be back and the getting out will all have been a waste of time. Worst than a waste of time.”

David gazed at Bramble who was watching them earnestly, impatiently awaiting the resumption of the walk, his stump of a tail twitching in anticipation. It must be nice to be a dog. Unworried in its trust in the benevolence of those in charge of its destiny. And then he remembered that even Bramble was a hostage to fortune, that his young life depended on his own compliance to Grace de Messembry's wishes. But at least he doesn't know .... 'happy the hare at morning ....'

He must have sighed for Anne looked at him sharply, misinterpreting the reason.

“You can do it Sophie. Really you can. Between us we can get you away, only you have also to prepare for freedom. Think about it. Where you will go, what you will do, who you will be? Friends you might contact, friends who might believe, who you can trust? Because they will look for you and they have infinite resources to aid them in their search. So you will have to disappear. And that you need to bend your mind to beforehand.”

They walked back towards the rest of the afternoon's sessions in wrapped in the silence of their individual thoughts. But if Anne's were busy with the practicalities of his escape and subsequent existence, David's tumbled in a maelstrom of doubt and uncertainty. The difficulties seemed to multiply. The futilities and uncertainties crowded in upon him, overwhelming his capacity for clear thought. The idea of escape had, in spite of Anne's and Emma's certainties, seemed unreal, against all the odds, so he had never seriously considered what he would do afterwards. Not really. Just a vague belief that, once away from Helgarren, away from Grace de Messembry, life would somehow revert to what it had been before.

Anne's comments had destroyed that comfortable illusion. Problems were heaped on problems and the tasks of unravelling them, sorting them out, finding solutions and bringing such to fruition seemed beyond, far beyond, his intellect and will. His mind a grey soggy sponge incapable of finding resolution.

Perhaps it was just tiredness from over long grappling with the seeming insolvable, or perhaps even some hormonal side effect, but he felt mentally enervated. Drained of will to resist. His mind distracted by the sensation of the ever more sensitive nipples adorning his budding breasts as they moved in the hollows of his new breast forms to the rhythm of his walk. A sensation not at all unpleasant, disturbing if one dwelt on what it portended, but as an isolated sensual experience somehow warming, exciting even with its promise of ....

“Sophie dear! I've had a brain wave! What are you going to say to Simon tonight? That is if he dares show his face.”

“Simon? Why should I see ....”

“It is Book Club after work Sophie dear. Remember? And he will probably be there..... Rather shamefaced doubtless, he is rather smitten you know and I bet he will want to go to the ball with you.”

Anne giggled.

“And you need to encourage him darling ..... because I have just had this brilliant idea.”

“Anne what are you taking about? I know I have to appear to encourage him lest Grace de Messembry finds a less compliant alternative, but I don't see .....”

“Because he has a car Sophie and if you can get his keys you can .... Mind you it doesn't necessarily have to be Simon's .... and we don't need keys either on second thoughts. We can just steal and hot wire one.”

“I don't know how to Anne.”

“You must have led a very sheltered life Sophie dear. It's easy. I can show you. Do it for you if you like although ....”

Anne's brow furrowed, her voice thoughtful.

“.... although taking Simon's might be better. Stealing one at random has the disadvantage that its absence is likely to be noticed fairly quickly and the alarm raised, whereas if you took Simon's we could perhaps arrange for ..... He might even lend it in return for .... a consideration .... a sort of tit for tat ... although tat for tit might be a more appropriate phrase .... well it gives us more options. I am sure we can think of something ....”

“There is still the cable, and the guards at the gate house Anne, especially the cable.”

David flinched inwardly as his penis within the embrace of Uncle Silas cowered in dread imaginings

“I know Sophie. But it is a part of the jigsaw. And we have to start somewhere. We must be positive. We may be able to disconnect the cable. Hopefully Emma can find out for us how it works.”

Anne turned towards him, her hands seizing his shoulders and shook him gently.

“You must be positive darling Sophie. We can do it. Get you out of here. And it may not be perfect. It may be difficult. It may .... But you need to believe it too. Believe that we can. That together we can.”

She shook him gently, her eyes in full contact with his own.

“Tell me that you do believe Sophie dear. I want to hear you say it.”

And so David did what he had always sworn to himself that he would not do.

He lied to her.

“I do believe it Anne dear. I know it. Know that it can be done and that I will do it.”

A white lie perhaps but still a lie. And it hurt.

And perhaps, just perhaps, it was the hurt that gave him the resolve to act the part that was demanded of him. Led him to construct a make-believe belief to shield the lie.

And so that later at the meeting of the Book Club he was all sweetness and light as far as Simon was concerned, and that same evening, and indeed in the days to come before the ball, he conscientiously applied himself to a meticulous and conscientious examination with Anne and Emma of the problems surrounding his escape.

And progress was made. Progress on many of the problems that were solvable that is. Emma produced a map of the nearest town that had a main line railway connection to London. If he could catch the last train from there, Salisbury, at 10.25 he would be in London Waterloo just after midnight and another 20 minutes would be ample time for David to get to his old flat. Say another half hour to collect from there all he might require in the way of clothing, contacts, documents, his hidden spare car keys, and he could be away before anyone know he had left Helgarren. Away and driving to .... another destination. One that he alone knew. Secret from even Anne and Emma, lest pressure was applied..... So that they could not tell .... whatever.....

Salisbury was about an hour's drive away Emma estimated. Less at that time of night, but say an hour to be on the safe side. So David would have to make his escape at around nine in the evening. Which was just right they all agreed. Just when the Ball would be getting under way, a time of maximum distraction. They could cover for him. Grace de Messembry, Helen and Dr Pinecoffin would all be involved in playing host to the Minister with doubtless the other senior staff dancing attendance. If any one did miss David, then Emma and Anne would coyly hint at a romantic assignation. Hadn't they been young once upon a time? Above all isn't that what they wanted?

It would, they agreed, help if Simon was missing at the same time.

Otherwise, and perhaps more convincingly, they could plead a sudden indisposition brought on by her being deceived by over generous measures of Plymouth gin.

Some problems did of course remain. But, as Emma pointed out, they had to start somewhere. Take one thing at a time. They mustn't let themselves be fazed by consideration of the whole. Emma was still trying to find out whether the Gatehouse could be isolated from the cable, and if it couldn't they would find another way. If Sophie could get to the village in the distance she could always steal a car..... And as for the hormone addiction .... well they had only Dr. Walters' word for that. How bad could it be? People could fight addiction. And even if .... well with a good supply of hormones Sophie would have a breathing space .... and what was the alternative? Boobs and freedom against apparent total femininity and Helgarren?

And they had ten days to resolve outstanding problems. And then nine .... and eight .... and seven .... and ....

And sometimes it seemed to David that it didn't matter any more. Escape was just an interest. Something that might or might not happen. Something that existed alongside his normal everyday life. Was indeed a part of that life. A life that also encompassed the normal everyday things. The sharing with the other girls of the growing excitement in the days that led up to the ball. The discussions as to what they would all wear. And who they would be going with. And whether ....

Chapter 43.

David received his invitation. In his mail pigeon hole. A vellum envelope containing a stiff white card, gold deckle edged, on which elegant engraved script informed him that - 'Miss Grace de Messembry and the Directors of The Venumar .... request the pleasure of the company of Miss Sophie Jackson .... On the occasion of the visit of The Rt. Hon. Charles .... The Minister of State for Science and Technology .... etc.'

At the bottom, in a fine cursive script, were the letters R.S.V.P. which gave an illusion that he had choice in the matter.

In even smaller letters was inscribed 'Black Tie'. As if. For him evening dress meant just that. A dress. That had arrived two days ago and he had a second and final fitting scheduled for tomorrow. It was indeed a dream of a dress in a soft white organdie fabric. A faux two piece with the corseted bodice having external boning in contrasting black satin. The flat waisted A-line skirt, sweeping to the floor over a built in crinoline, was adorned all over with delicate flower sprig embroidery and beadwork in black with diamantÄ—s for sparkle. It came with detachable shoulder straps and a considerable debate was waging as to whether such would indeed be needed or whether his rapidly developing bust would enable him to dispense with them.

A dream of a dress. And just right for him. Everybody said so. They had all been quite ecstatic and he had preened himself a little and known that they were right.

And known too that he was losing. And that perhaps it didn't matter but that if it did then that even the five days remaining might prove too long a time. Too long for that. Too short to resolve the uncertainties still surrounding his escape. Surrounding? Primarily whether he could escape at all. Whether he could cross the cable without suffering a premature loss of his remaining physical masculinity. Emma on the surface was still buoyantly optimistic but David could detect the brittleness behind her assurances and Anne's body language betrayed her anxiety also.

But he had promised and so he walked a precarious tightrope in encouraging Simon whilst avoiding being alone with him, so that access to his car keys remained a possibility should all go to plan and the Gateway prove a viable escape route. At the bottom of his wardrobe he had even an escape pack of a stash of hormones and cartridges for his OGTA. not forgetting some clean undies, plain panties and sports bras, even some basic make up, a moisturiser and ... well all the things a girl needs for a few days away. Because as a girl he would have to go. He had no other clothes and he must look convincing if he were not to draw unnecessary attention to himself initially. Later would be the time to re establish his masculinity. Later when safe away. For the moment his driving licence credit card, both also packed away in the escape pack, also confirmed his femininity to the outside world, so the charade, if charade it be, must continue for a little longer. But later, later when safe away....

And in the meantime his days were full. Classes continued with a renewed intensity as perfection was striven for in preparation for the ball. It was repeatedly stressed how much depended on them, on all the girls, to demonstrate to the Minister what perfect young ladies Helgarren produced.

Perhaps it was because of the increased pressure of the training, perhaps because of the need to escape from decisions, the uncertainties of the few days ahead, that a few stolen hours in the evenings took on an extra value for David. Walking with Anne and Bramble through Helgarren's grounds, the trees changing now to gold and orange as the evenings closed in. An escape of a different kind. An escape from escape. An escape from the consequences of not escaping. A resting of the mind. The swallows that he had watched with envy all those months ago from his window at the Holding Wing had gone now. As had the David he then had been. Don't dwell on it. Enjoy the moment. That was perhaps all he had. And afterwards he and Anne joining Emma for a drink, still warm enough in the early Indian summer evening to be outside on the terrace. Their friendship silently warm about him. Then perhaps he could treasure the hour, isolating it from what had been and what was to come. Living it for what it was.

Once Laura and Coralie joined them breaking the spell somewhat but even then David was sufficiently divorced from self to look dispassionately upon Coralie. To feel a deep sorrow for her. Guilt too. Although why he could not say. Why her lot was any worse than his. He was uneasily aware that she seemed to .... it was difficult to be sure .... but she seemed almost to hero worship him .... perhaps heroine worship would be more correct.

Laura saw it too. Saw him as part of her, Coralie's, cure. Had practically said as much.

“Sophie darling you are so good for her, you and Anne. She is quite a different girl when she has been in your company for an hour or so. You drive her nightmares away.”

And the next day, the Thursday, the sentiment was echoed, although in a rather different way.

David, late after a prolonged session on Dr. Tabatha's couch, was hurrying to join Anne and Emma on the terrace for their accustomed early door's drink. He hastened across the cobbled area and was crossing the lawn when a voice, seemingly emanating from one of the rubenesque young ladies of the fountain, addressed him in chillingly familiar tones.

“Sophie dear. How delightful to see you looking so well. And so energetic! I declare I have never seen anyone move quite so fast on cobbles in high heels as you do dear.”

Sitting on far side of the low wall that bordered the fountain was Grace de Messembry.

“It's only a copy you know Sophie dear, even if a very good one. Quite exquisite in its way albeit a trifle overblown for my taste.”

She waved a languid gloved hand at the fountain behind her.

“The original is in Bologna I think. Or is it Padua? Well somewhere in Italy anyway. The belle époque of Renaissance sculpture so they say. So very apt don't you think dear?”

David's mouth felt suddenly dry. His heart heavy with trepidation. Nothing was ever by chance where Grace de Messembry was concerned. She was, to the best of his knowledge, not given to spending her early evenings contemplating Italianate fountains. Certainly not this one.

“Oh .... Hello Miss Grace. Apt Miss Grace? Why?”

“Such an exhausting day. Such a relief to be able to sit down and relax at the end of it as I am sure you will agree.” Grace de Messembry sighed in a world weary way and patted the wall beside her. The invitation was clear and not to be denied. David sat alongside her. Felt her presence. Breathed in her perfume.

She turned her face towards him, the brilliant chatoyant eyes bright with unmistakable amusement.

“Yes so very apt Sophie dear. But you were in such a rush. I do so hope I am not keeping you from an evening with your friends? That would be unforgivably selfish of me. Please tell me you can spare me a few moments?”

“Yes .... Yes of course Miss Grace. I ... I am only ... It is always a pleasure to ... to see you.”

“How very kind of you to say so Sophie dear, but I know how valuable a young girl's leisure time is. So many girlish confidences to exchange!”

A barely discernible exhaling of breath that managed to convey infinite regret.

“Would I could share in them, but I fear that, even as the elder sister that I aspire to be, my presence might still perhaps prove an inhibiting factor.”

The small chill thought occurred to David that she might be aware of the topic that had so dominated their conversation of late.

But if so she veered away, her lips curling in a wistful smile.

“Some day perhaps, some day soon, when all this tiresome transitioning phase is over for you. I do realise Sophie dear I must have appeared to you to be something of an ogress during these last few months .... No ....“

Grace de Messembry raised her hand to pre-empt any protestation that David might make.

“.... don't deny it dear. I appreciate that you might have construed my desire to see you progress along the path to femininity as being somewhat over enthusiastic, threatening even, particularly in the early days of your stay with us when the concept was new to you. Dr Tabatha has spoken to me quite severely about it on several occasions.”

“But it's true darling,” she continued pre-empting any possible objections David might feel inclined to offer, “and quite understandable in the circumstances, laughable though it might seem now.”

Her eyes searched his face, measuring, judging. Waiting for him to respond to her invitation to find humour in his early blind obduracy before he had fully accepted the evident advantages that his feminisation had brought.

David managed a smile that hopefully conveyed amusement at his own past failure to immediately embrace the opportunities offered to him. That hopefully at least concealed the sick dread that he always felt in her presence. At least his time here had improved his skill in dissembling.

“I understand that you are working wonders in helping Coralie to recover from her rather traumatic experiences in Rehabilitation. Not an experience that is not ideally suited to all and the poor girl seems to have been somewhat scarred by it. It's still not an exact science of course and we ourselves are on something of a learning curve in refining it. Different people react in different ways.”

The velvet gloved contralto voice took on a reflective, caressing, tone.

“I wonder how you would have fared there Sophie dear? Not that there was ever any remote likelihood of you being sent there. You were always far too much of a natural for such extreme measures. And at your present stage of development of course there would be no point.”

A bald statement of fact. There's no point. Not now. Not at this stage.

“Mind you one can be wrong. I thought Coralie was a natural too. But that affair with the knife.... Even if some aspects of that were never quite explained ....”

Her smile was never more bewitching.

“.... Finally we had no choice. If only to protect you and the other girls.... But I digress Sophie dear, What I really wanted to talk to you about was your future. Your success with Coralie is the catalyst.”

“My future?” David strove to keep the sudden alarm out of his voice.

“Yes dear, your future. It was the way that Coralie has reacted to you, has come to regard you as a rá´le model, that sparked the idea. That and your progress.”

“My progress?.

“Oh don't be so modest Sophie dear, You are well on your way to being a quite delightful girl. Devastatingly attractive and sexy. All the mannerisms, all the attributes .... well perhaps not quite all the attributes but happily modern surgical techniques can reconcile any physical anomalies still lingering .... All you have to do dear is to ask you know and Dr. Walters will be only too happy....”

“But I don't .... “

“But you will Sophie dear. In due time. Of that there can be no doubt. And when you are ready .... why then I think we can find you a place here at Helgarren. Anne as well. Helping the new girls. As you have helped Coralie. Provide them with a rá´le model. Allay their fears as to what being feminine means; still any foolish apprehensions that they may have about losing their masculinity - such a fuss about nothing. Hopefully cut down on the need for Rehabilitation for some of them. You would be horrified if I told you how much it costs to put even one recalcitrant through the programme Sophie dear!”

“But Miss Grace I don't think .....”

“That it would provide you with a full time occupation? But there would be other duties .... finding and vetting candidates .... Did I tell you Tommy is now in the Holding Wing? You were quite right about him dear. Clever girl! A full career pattern to be gone into of course ... plenty of scope in the organisation for young girls of spirit and enterprise. And I think you would find our salary scale and pension plans quite exceptional.”

The evening sun filtered through the sparkled spray of the fountain's fall so that the light shifted continually across Grace de Messembry's face giving her an almost ethereal appearance. The same light half blinded David as he turned towards her. With her nothing was ever left to chance was the only coherent thought he could muster. Again he stammered, repetitively,

“But Miss Grace I don't think ..... I mean I had not thought.”

“Of course not. But do now Sophie dear. Not that there is any hurry of course. Plenty of time to decide. Talk it over with Anne — such a sensible girl. How is that delightful puppy of her's? Such a comfort.”

Her head tilted slightly to one side after this seeming non sequitur as if to emphasise her own tender concern.

“I just thought you would like to know that your future with us is quite assured Sophie dear. You really have wormed your way into all out hearts.”

And she leant towards him and patted his knee in flutter of gloved fingers to emphasise the love they all bore him.

“ So very gratifying Sophie dear. To see you turning out so well, fulfilling all our hopes and expectations. So very apt indeed.”

The conversation seemed to have come full circle. David echoed again the lead he had been fed.

“Apt Miss Grace? I don't quite follow .... I....”

“But of course Sophie dear. Our chance meeting here at the fountain. Such obvious parallels between you.”

“Between us?”

“Don't be obtuse Sophie dear. Between you and the fountain. What else could I mean? Unlike you to be so slow darling. Shall I list them for you?”

Elegant gloved fingers performed a slow ritual count.

“Well firstly you are both copies dear. Good ones of course, but still only copies. And sadly always will be however sincere your aspirations. However skilled the craftsmen who fashioned you, be they masons or beauticians, sculptors or surgeons. Just copies.”
A finger gracefully touched the tip of another

“Then again although you lack, fortunately I may say, some of the rather exaggerated junoesque attributes of the ladies adorning the fountain, you both represent a feminine ideal that has been transformed from an altogether baser material.”

Grace de Messembry stood up as her fingers performed their third arabesque. A swirl of perfume and the swish of fresh cotton as she smiled down at him.

“Don't look so glum Sophie dear. I have saved the best till the last. You and the fountain. Both the products of a renaissance. A rebirth. Isn't that a lovely thought?”

David too was on his feet now. An automatic response.

“Yes,” he said.

“I have kept you from your friends long enough Sophie dear. You must forgive me. Do remember me to them. And do think about joining us here at Helgarren. You and Anne. I am sure it will all work out wonderfully. Such fun!”

And she was gone.

David remained staring at the fountain. Seeing only the veil of water cascading down across the sunshine. Then he turned and walked into the maze of dark corridors that was the heart of the old house. He remembered how he had felt when Emma had told him that she had joined the Foundation. And Grace de Messembry had the temerity to suggest that he, he and Anne....

And yet .... and yet .... at the back of his mind a thought was born. A thought that started to nag at him. If not .... What then?

They were sitting waiting for him when he arrived at the bar. Though they turned on his approach to greet him with enthusiastic smiles, when he first glimpsed them they too had looked sombre, deep in thought.

Cheeks were air kissed. Drinks ordered, sipped. But this evening the escape hour did not seem to work its magic. There was constraint in the air. Grace de Messembry's voice still rehearsing its phrases in David's head. And Emma and Anne seemed pre-occupied also. The conversation seemed brittle, artificial in its brightness.

“Something's wrong isn't it,” said Anne. “Something's happened..” A statement.

“Yes. Something's happened. And with you?”

“Not really,” said Emma. “Nothing actually wrong. Just that I am not getting anywhere with the Gatehouse. I really can't get close to the guards and no-one else seems to know. It's difficult to ask questions about it without arousing curiosity in others, without giving the game away.”

“It's all right really. We'll think of something,” Anne reassured him. "This evening we''ll have a barnstorming session. Don't worry Sophie. It'll be all right. You'll see.”

“Yes. We''ll think of something.” David could feel no great surprise. He found he had been expecting it. Had never really believed otherwise. It was all part of the same pre-ordained pattern.

For the second time that evening gentle fingers touched him. Not white gloved this time. This time Anne's. This time there was comfort in the touch.

“What happened? To you.”

“I met Grace de Messembry. We had what she would describe as one of our little heart-to-heart chats.”

And he told them all that had passed by the fountain.

When he had finished there was silence.

“A copy. Just a copy.” Anne muttered. To herself.

Emma too looked ashen.

“I know you think I betrayed you. But I wanted still to be here .... with you and ...”

“No. Not now. Perhaps once fleetingly. But not now Emma dearest. For you it was, is, different. For Anne too perhaps. Even for me .....”

David shrugged.

“.... if .... if.... Well you know .... if. What else can I do? What would I do .... outside? Would they ever let me go? Would.... would I even care after .... that .... then.”

“We'll think of something. I promise. This evening. It isn't too late.”

But David could see his own dismay mirrored in Anne's eyes. Eyes under the sweeping mascara darkened lashes, eyes framed by elegant sculpted brows arching over delicately shadowed lids.

Eyes that mirrored his own.

Emma sought to lighten the gloom. Sought to distract by trivia.

“ I saw Helen Vanbrugh today. At the Holding Wing. She asked after you Sophie. Said she had been away and had lost touch. I had hoped at one time that .... She said she had something for you. ”

“So did I .... hope I mean .... but we haven't spoken for some time.”

The past seemed irrelevant now.

They had another drink, but the conversation remained desultory and stilted. Each consumed by their own thoughts. Each shadowed by a sense of defeat.

Anne walked back in silence with David. Her arm linked in his as sweethearts had once walked. In the days when David had had sweethearts.

Across the cobbled square and the lawn. By the fountain that still played but silvery now in the shadowed courtyard.

“Did you ever read Flecker's 'Hassan'” asked David.

“Sophie dear I never read anything except that children's book about another Bramble! Not until I came here here. Why?”

“There's a fountain in it. Nothing really. I just thought of it. It ran with blood. The man who built it was killed so that he could never build another quite so beautiful. And then it ran with blood.”

He felt her arm tighten on his.

“Save your thoughts for this evening. We have to solve this. We will solve this.”

She slipped her arm out of his at the gates to their respective houses.

“In an hour,” Anne said. “You must believe.”

David unlocked his own door and fumbled for the light switch as he went through the motions of wiping his feet on the coir mat. There was a flash of white in the gloom as his left foot snicked something that crackled and moved.

Bending down he found a small envelope. Unaddressed, unsealed, its flap folded inside it. It was unexpected. Out of the ordinary. All mail had to be collected from the pigeon holes in the Reception area. Nothing was delivered.

Out of the ordinary but itself very ordinary. Just a small envelope as might contain an invitation. Although .... it smelled of oranges. Quite strongly. He lifted it to his nostrils. There was something else there but whatever it was was quite overlaid by the scent of oranges.

Inside simply a single folded sheet of quality paper. Opening it up David saw a couple of lines of handwritten, carefully formed, capitals that read -

FOR THE CONVENIENCE OF BALL GUESTS, THE GATEWAY WILL BE FREE OF ANY SECURITY CORDON BETWEEN 7 P.M. AND MIDNIGHT ON SATURDAY.

In the bottom right hand corner there was a small ink sketch of a bird, delicately executed and exact enough for David to recognise the unmistakable shape of a wren.