I fidget nervously in my seat as I watch the drama unfold in front of me. I’m sat in an audience not unlike the spectators at a Roman Amphitheatre, only instead of watching two gladiators fight it out, we’re enthralled by the sight of two middle-aged men sat opposite each other. One of the men is one of the most famous (and infamous) television presenters in the country, while the other is my father- and the prize on offer is far greater than any ancient gladiator could ever have dreamed of.

“This is something I don’t get to say very often,” the unmistakable, boorish voice of Jeremy Clarkson says as he looks my father in the eyes. “This, Mike Hanley, is your question for one million pounds.” A quiet gasp rises from the audience as my father, obviously nearly paralysed with nerves, quietly nods and fixes his stare on the screen in front of him.

“Which of the following US states joined the union most recently?” Jeremy asks. “A, Idaho. B, Utah. C, Arizona. Or D, Wyoming?" My father sits back in his chair with a concerned look on his face. He’s already won £500 000, a truly massive amount of money, but if he answers this question incorrectly, he’ll lose £468 000 of it- a fact Jeremy is quick to remind him of.

“Funnily enough,” dad says, “I had a feeling there’d be an American history question in here somewhere, and this is one of the things I looked up before coming on. So I know the answer is Arizona.” A loud gasp erupts from the audience and my legs start to tremble as dad confidently looks the tall presenter in the eyes.

“You’re saying Arizona?” Jeremy asks, his own voice trembling with anticipation.

“I am,” dad whispers.

“Is that your final answer?” Jeremy asks.

“It is,” dad says quietly with a nod of his head, taking a deep breath as the lights in the studio change and a loud musical sting fills the room.

“I think you know what I’m about to say,” Jeremy says, taking a deep breath. “But it’s something I’ve wanted to say for a while. You, Mike Hanley… Have just won one million pounds.” The entire audience erupts in a loud cheer as tinsel and confetti falls from the ceiling and dad almost looks like he’s about to faint as has to be propped up by Jeremy, who leaves his seat to shake my father’s hand and give him a firm pat on the back. At the prompting of one of the show’s producers, I rise from my seat with the intention of joining my father on stage, but before I take a step I also have to be steadied as the reality of the situation makes my legs wobble.

For the first eighteen years of my life I was the son of an at best lower middle-class father who spent his days fixing computers and his evenings reading and doing pub quizzes. Now, thanks in no small part to my father’s dedication to his hobbies, I’m the offspring of a millionaire. And thanks to his unconditional love and acceptance, I’m the daughter of a millionaire. And I have both the paperwork and the vagina to prove it.

This will no doubt go down as the one of the happiest days of my father’s life (though he’ll no doubt out it behind his wedding day and my birth), and it’s definitely one of the happiest of mine too, but the fact of the matter is that I still have no one I can celebrate it with.

Well, apart from my father of course, who always has been, and no doubt always will be there for me despite his new-found wealth. But even he will be spending much of his time (not to mention money) with the new woman in his life. I also have my BFF, of course, who will be ecstatic for my father… As will her husband. Dad’s girlfriend’s daughter is also one of my very best friends… As is her wife. Katie and Lauren will be thrilled by the news too… As will their boyfriend and fiancé respectively. And everyone at work will be happy for me, and very happy that I can get them an exclusive interview with my dad… Never mind the fact that I am the only single person who works there.

That’s not to say that I haven’t had any first dates since the Phil fiasco at Christmas. I’ve even had the occasional second date. But absolutely no third dates, and none of the first or second dates were with anyone I’d remotely describe as ‘charming’, let alone ‘Prince Charming’. I know I should be happy. I’m able to live my life as the woman I always dreamed of being. I have a job that I love, great friends and a father who would do anything for me and is now financially stable enough to make good on his promises. And yet, I can't think of a time I've felt more alone. I feel like everyone's moving on, while I'm stuck in quicksand...

“W- wow,” dad breathes as I give him a long, tight hug. “This- this honestly feels like a dream, heh.”

“Well, I can assure you that this is real,” Jeremy says as he hands dad a very plain-looking cheque, albeit one that has dad’s name in the ‘payee’ box and the figure ‘£1 000 000’ in the amount box. “You can literally take that to the bank.”

“Oh, believe me, I will!” Dad chuckles, giving me another hug before the director says ‘cut’ and an army of stagehands appear to clear away the confetti from the set.

“Well- congratulations again,” Jeremy says as he exchanges another handshake with my father. “I know a lot of people in the crew were rooting for you, and I for one am glad that our first jackpot winner is actually a decent, likeable guy."

“Thanks,” dad chuckles.

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to spend the money on?” Jeremy asks.

“Yeah… I’ve got a few immediate plans,” dad says as he smiles in my direction, making me giggle and blush and causing the presenter to turn his attention toward me.

“Right, well I’ve got two daughters who are about your age,” Jeremy says to me. “Don’t spend all your dad’s money on iPhones and shoes!”

“I won’t, I promise,” I chuckle.

“Right, well I’ll let you get on with it, and congratulations once again!” Jeremy says with a genuine smile as a member of the production crew approaches us, almost bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Congratulations!” The producer, a young woman only a few years older than me, says.

“Thanks,” dad chuckles, unable to stop staring at the cheque. “I- this’ll sound like a daft question, but is- is this cheque real?”

“Yeah, it actually would be,” the producer says. “Jeremy is authorised to sign cheques on behalf of the production company, though we will actually pay you the money by BACS transfer.”

“Oh, okay,” dad says, sounding a little disappointed as he hands the cheque over to the producer.

“Don’t worry,” the producer says reassuringly. “You’ll get the money in the next 24 hours. We just have a few things we need to talk about first, like publicity stuff. As you imagine, quite a lot of people are going to want to talk to you!”

“Yeah!” Dad chuckles.

“Jacinta, do you want to wait for us in the green room?” the producer asks. “We shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

“Oh- umm, okay,” I say as dad’s led away to one of the studio’s offices, while I let out a tired sigh as I return to the green room. It’s not like I begrudge dad his moment in the spotlight, of course- god knows he’s earned it- but as I sit in the green room all by myself, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been forgotten. Forgotten by life, forgotten by the world… Forgotten by love…

Dad returns about half an hour later when the recording session ends, and we stick around for a couple of hours to have a drink and chat to Jeremy, the producers and the other contestants, before deciding to call it a day and head back to the hotel. As the show is filmed in Manchester, both dad and I decided to take a few days off work, so we had the chance to relax before going back. We also opted to travel by train rather than drive up, dad reasoning that he’d be in no state to drive home after the recording- an assumption that proves to be correct when we enter our hotel room and he collapses heavily into the armchair.

“Dad?” I ask with a concerned frown. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve just won a million quid, what do you think?” Dad replies with a high-pitched chuckle. “I dunno. I think the adrenaline’s finally wearing off and I’m, you know, actually realising that yes, this is all real.”

“…I know THAT feeling,” I say quietly, earning a smile from my tired father.

“I can imagine,” dad chuckles. “The difference of course being that you had to work a lot harder than I did.”

“Well- I suppose,” I shrug as I think about the recovery period following my SRS.

In the four months since Christmas, having a vagina has slowly but surely felt more and more natural, just as all of my other post-operative friends assured me it would. I still have to dilate, but only once a day, and even that has gradually felt less and less awful to the point where I only need to sing ‘I’m Every Woman’ maybe 2 or 3 times a week. What at first felt artificial, like an open wound, has gradually become just like any other flesh and blood part of my body- precisely because it IS another flesh and blood part of my body. And, as my friends have also promised, I’m gradually forgetting what it was like to ever have a penis. Sadly, I’m also forgetting what it’s like to 'have' other guys' penises too…

“And you had to do all that while studying at university too,” dad says, smiling as I nod. “And racking up all that student debt too… Which as of tomorrow, will officially be zero.”

“Wh- dad, no!” I protest. “That’s, like, thirty grand!”

“Which will still leave me with nine hundred and seventy grand,” dad retorts. “Well, nine hundred and forty after I pay Ophelia’s loans as well. And don’t- don’t say anything. It’s my money, and if I can’t use it to make my children’s lives easier, what kind of dad am I?”

“Well- okay, I suppose,” I say, before grinning and giving my father a long, grateful hug. “And no, I’m going to say anything about you calling Ophelia as much your child as I am, because I definitely agree with you there!”

“I kinda figured that by now, you wouldn’t say anything,” dad chuckles. “Ahh… Kinda in a mood for an early night, you know? I want to try to get an earlier train, get back to Brighton nice and early.” I reply with a nod, as under the circumstances, I definitely agree with dad.

“Aren’t we booked on a midday train, though?” I ask as I start removing my jewellery and make-up.

“Yeah, like I can’t afford to pay the fee to change the reservation,” dad replies with a well-earned smug grin.

The following morning, not only does dad pay the fee to change us to an earlier train, but he also upgrades our tickets to first class, a completely new experience for us as we sit in the plush, reclining chairs and enjoy the complimentary coffee and snacks- a far cry from the rigid seats and lukewarm tea we endured on the trip north.

We arrive home shortly after 2 o’clock, and after dropping our bags in the hall, we head through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and get a snack, only to discover that someone else has already beaten us to the kettle.

“Good afternoon Mike, Jacinta,” Ophelia (who does have her own key to the house, before you worry) says with a smile. “I trust that your visit to Manchester was profitable?”

“Just a bit, yes,” dad says as we exchange hugs with my BFF and polite handshakes with her husband. “So much so that you two don’t need to worry about repaying your student loans anymore!” Telemachus too? I think to myself. That’s almost a hundred grand in one day…

“Oh- we really cannot accept such a generous amount of money,” Ophelia insists.

“Not even from a millionaire?” Dad asks, yesterday’s smug grin quickly returning to his face as Ophelia and Telemachus’s jaws both drop.

“Oh- oh my god, really?” Ophelia squeaks, her affected posh accent nowhere to be heard. “You won- you won a million pounds?”

“Keep it to yourself until the show’s broadcast, okay?” Dad replies as wide grins spread across the young couple’s usually stoic faces.

“Don’t- umm, do not worry, we shall maintain our silence,” Telemachus says, momentarily lapsing back into his natural Black Country accent. “When is the program broadcast?”

“Tomorrow night,” Mike replies. “By which point you’d better be back at university, so my money isn’t going to waste!”

“I shall, you have my word,” Telemachus says with a smile.

“Do you know- umm, have you decided what your money shall be spent on yet?” Ophelia asks.

“Not all of it,” dad replies. “Not yet anyway. I’m definitely getting a season ticket for the Seagulls, though. I want to be at the AmEx for every home game of the 2019-2020 season!”

“Of course,” Telemachus- who has zero interest in football- says.

“After that, I dunno,” dad shrugs. “Might finally get myself on the property ladder. Though I’ll definitely put some money aside so the three of you will have an inheritance.”

“Don’t- don’t think about THAT just yet,” I moan, earning a smile and a gentle hug from my father.

“I’ll also put some money aside for a big, fancy wedding for you too!” Dad teases. And definitely don’t think about THAT either, I think to myself as I suddenly feel VERY uncomfortable.

“As long as none of that money is reserved for a dress,” Ophelia says with a wide grin. “THAT shall be entirely courtesy of myself!”

“I wouldn’t dream of stepping on your toes there!” Dad says with a chuckle as we take our drinks through to the living room. “Ahh… You know, it’s called a ‘life-changing’ sum of money, but you don’t realise just how life-changing it is until, well, it changes your life, heh.”

“I can imagine,” Ophelia says. “And I have experience when it comes to events that change a person’s life.” Much to my surprise, when my BFF says this, she’s not looking at her husband, but is instead gazing happily at me.

“I think we all do,” dad sighs sadly as he sits down and gently taps the urn containing my mother’s ashes- a reminder that while dad may be pursuing a relationship with another woman, they will only ever be his second love. “Still, I think we can all agree that the four of us have more than earned our happy endings, heh.”

“I could not agree more,” Telemachus says as he gives his wife’s hand a gentle squeeze. And while I can’t argue that my life in the body I now have is a lot happier than my life as ‘Jason’, and my life in general is much, much happier than my life as 'Jason', the inescapable fact is that ‘happy endings’ rarely involve the main character being alone for the rest of their life…

After an afternoon spent chatting and eating a very fancy takeaway dinner, dad leads the four of us out to his car, and we’re soon on the A23 heading back to London. We drop Ophelia and Telemachus at their flat first before making the short drive to my flat. Before I jump out of the car, however, I pause, sensing from dad's facial expression that he has something important that he needs to say.

“Jacinta,” dad eventually says in a cautious-sounding voice.

“…Yes?” I ask.

”You know- you know things are going to change, right?” dad asks, smiling as I nod. “Probably a lot, for me at least. You’re going to find yourself at the centre of some media attention as well, for- well, I’m sure you know.”

“Yeah, kinda,” I chuckle. “Just my luck you win big on a quiz show on the same channel that has Piers Moron reading the morning news.”

“Well, if I do get challenged by him or anyone else about you, I’ll defend you to the death,” dad says with a warm, fatherly smile. “Because what hasn’t changed is that you are the most important thing in my life. No amount of money could change that.” I bite my lip as tears slowly start to form in my eyes- not that I ever doubted my father’s love for me, of course.

“Thanks,” I whisper as my father and I share a long, tight hug. “Heh, gonna be weird going back to work on Friday.”

“I can imagine,” dad says. “Does everyone at work know about the show?”

“Well- they know you’ll be on it,” I reply. “I haven’t told them anything else. Not yet, anyway, though I’m not back until Friday, so I reckon they’ll probably know by then, heh. Hell, they may even want an interview from you too.”

“I’d be happy to,” dad shrugs. “Any way I can help you out, heh!”

“Heh,” I chuckle. “How about you? Have you told anyone at work yet?”

“I imagine they’ll find out when I hand in my notice on Friday,” dad replies, making my jaw drop. “What? Did you really think I was going to stay in that place, fixing motherboards until I dropped dead of boredom?”

“I thought you liked the job?” I ask.

“I’ve had worse jobs,” dad replies. “But, you know, I want to enjoy my wealth while I have it?”

“What little you’ll have left after becoming the student loan fairy?” I ask, before grimacing. “Okay, that’s a bad choice of words for me…”

“I know what you meant,” dad says with a smile. “And it’s not like you’re taking out thirty grand loans every week, this is a one-off payment. And I’ll get plenty of money back when I sell the house in Brighton, too.”

“Wh- se- what!?” I exclaim. “You’re selling the house?”

“…I may rent it out,” dad mumbles, clearly taken aback by my outburst. “But I reckon I’d get more if I sell it… Jacinta, I- I’m thinking of, you know, moving up to London. Full-time, like.”

“Even after saying you were going to watch every home game next season?”

“It’s not like the AmEx is completely inaccessible from London,” dad retorts. “And I- I want to be closer to Beverly, you know?”

“…Oh,” I say.

“I- I’m going to see her now, tell her the news…” Dad mumbles. “Jacinta, I know that- I know-“

“Yeah, so do I,” I sigh.

“Your mother will always be your mother, your only mother,” dad explains. “And I do believe that she would want me-“

“Yeah, so do I,” I interrupt again. “Dad, it’s not like I’m angry or anything, you know I like Beverly. I mean, I just spent three years at uni with her daughter, and with what she does for a living, if I had to pick anyone to be a stepmother, I suppose I’d choose her, it’s just- I- I have a lot of memories in that house, you know?” Dad sighs sadly and leans in for another hug as tears start to well up in my eyes.

“I know,” dad whispers. “So do I, I- I just feel it’s time to move on. I mean, you have, right? Got your big job in London, living independently, constantly jetting back and forth to America…”

“And the ‘big thing’?” I ask, smiling as dad nods. “Meh, I guess… Will- will you bring mum to London?”

“…I haven’t decided yet,” dad sighs. “I mean, now that I can afford it, I was thinking I could get a headstone… I- I dunno, can we not talk about this now, please?”

“Okay,” I whisper, sensing that I've touched a very raw nerve.

“I’ll see you tomorrow if not before,” dad says, the smile returning to his face as he gives me another hug. “You take care, okay?”

“I will,” I reply, before getting my suitcase out of the boot and heading into the flat, only to find it empty. With a loud (and, under the circumstances, unnecessary) sigh, I flop down on the sofa and unpack my laptop, hoping that editing some photos for the magazine will take my mind off of things.

Needless to say, that doesn’t work, and within 15 minutes I’m instead lazily scrolling through Facebook for any updates with my friends, before heading over to the internet dating website I’m subscribed to in the hope that my profile may have had a few ‘bites’. Hell, even a ‘nibble’ will do me at this point.

As always, though, when I log on to the dating site, the only interest my profile has had are from guys who are either overweight, or who proudly announce their favourite football team in their profile, or worse yet, their love of Star Wars, or who are otherwise flawed in countless other ways. In the interest of full disclosure, my dating app profile is linked to my Instagram, Twitter and YouTube pages, all of which proudly display, even advertise my membership of the ‘T’ part of the LGBT community, which no doubt turns off a great many of the men who might stumble across my profile. I could, of course, try to deny that I was ever male- after all, I do have the vagina to back up that claim- but something like that isn’t easy to hide, and it’d only cause even more problems when the truth was revealed, as it inevitably would be. God knows I’ve heard more than a few horror stories from my friends about how that type of 'revelation' has damaged potential relationships. There is, of course, the opposite course of action- I could always register at an explicitly trans-friendly or even trans-only dating site, and while I’m certainly not opposed to the idea of dating a transgender man (I’ve met a few who are seriously cute), I don’t want to limit the pool from which ‘Prince Charming’ can appear. Even if that pool is already limited by the exclusion of transphobes- not that that’s too great a loss.

I spend the rest of the afternoon flitting between work and relaxation, only interrupted late in the afternoon by a text from my flat mate, explaining that she won’t be home tonight, leaving out the reason why- that she’ll be staying overnight with her boyfriend- as one, it doesn’t really need to be said; and two, it would be rubbing it in a bit. She does, however, also ask how dad last night, to which I reply with the simple message ‘no spoilers’ followed by a ‘sticking-out tongue’ emoji, to which Katie replies with a very friendly 'middle finger' emoji.

With all of my friends otherwise occupied tonight, I spend the rest of the evening on the sofa idly browsing through Netflix and trying not to think about the fact that even my dad has a more active love life than I do right now…

I’m woken up the following morning by the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by the sound of a foot making high-speed contact with a table leg and a thick London accent coming up with some very creative swear words.

“Hi Katie,” I half-shout, half-grunt into my pillow. “Good night?”

“Before I broke half of my foot, yeah,” Katie moans.

“You’re the one who insisted on putting the coffee table there,” I reply, sighing as I prop myself up on my elbows. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get the first aid kit?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine,” Katie sighs as I hear her bedroom door open and close. “I just came back to change, I’ve got, like, seven interviews today.”

“Do you want the shower first?” I ask.

“No, I showered at Charlie's place,” Katie replies, making me frown at her unsubtle ‘boyfriend brag’. “How was the recording?” Needless to say, this causes me to perk up more than a little.

“Ah-ah-ah, you’ll find out tonight,” I tease my friend.

“Oh come on, some spoilers, pleeeeease?” Katie asks, making me giggle.

“You can’t wait what, twelve hours?” I reply, trying my hardest to sound as smug as possible.

“I might be delayed at work,” Katie replies. “You can tell me whether or not he got into the hot seat, surely?”

“You’ll find out tonight,” I repeat, smirking as my friend lets out a frustrated moan.

“I’m going to come in there and sit on you until you tell me,” Katie threatens.

“I’m dilating,” I lie.

“…Okay, fine then, I’ll see you tonight,” Katie sighs. “Are we still having a watch party at this place?”

“Duh!” I reply, earning a happy giggle from my flat mate as she heads out of the flat, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I’m woken up a short while later by the sound of talking coming from the living room, confusing me as I could've sworn I was alone in the flat after Katie left. I slowly raise myself off of my bed and cautiously leave the room, my body seemingly resisting more and more with every step I take.

“H- hello?” I call out, my voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “Who’s there?” With increasingly small steps, I head out of my bedroom and into the living room, freezing at the sight of the last face I expected to see.

“Hello Jacinta,” the middle-aged woman says with a warm, loving smile.

“M- mum?” I whisper, scrunching my eyes closed as I try to reconcile the image in front of me. When I open them again, however, I’m back in my bed, back in the real world.

“…Where the hell did THAT come from?” I think to myself, taking several deep breaths to reassure myself that I am indeed actually awake.

Realising that it’d be futile to try to get back to sleep after THAT dream, I let out a sigh and throw back my bedsheets, before switching on my radio and reaching into my nightstand for my dilating kit.

“I’m every woman, it’s all in me…” I mumble to myself as I slide the thick orange stent into my vagina and muse on how mundane this action has become. Even though it’s no longer uncomfortable- far from it, in fact- the dream still makes me fidget.

It’s not like I don’t think about my mother, of course. It’s rare that a day goes by when she isn’t in my thoughts in some way, shape or form, and those thoughts have increased in frequency since my surgery. I often wonder how mum would react to her new daughter, and what kinds of things we’d be able to do together as mother and daughter that we never could as mother and son. Dad’s reassured me that mum would have accepted me just as easily as he did, and that they were in fact trying for another child when she got sick, something I always inferred as them trying specifically for a daughter. I still question, though, whether she’d approve of me shoving a plastic rod in myself every morning, or of some of the boys I’ve dated (or lusted after)…

After dilating, I take a quick shower before dressing for the day in what has become my go-to ‘casual casual’ outfit of a tight long-sleeved top (cut low enough to show a modest amount of cleavage, of course), a pair of nearly opaque black leggings and a short denim skirt. As I look at myself in the mirror, I can’t help but muse on the ways in which I resemble my mother, such as my hair or my nose. Growing up, I was always complimented on how much I looked like my father- well, I’m assuming it was meant to be a compliment, anyway, as for obvious reasons I didn’t see it as such- but the longer I’ve been transitioning, the more my mother has seemed to 'emerge' from me. Naturally, this makes me very happy indeed.

I also can’t help but wonder, of course, how mum would react to being the wife of a millionaire…

I again spend the day by myself, alternating between finishing off work for the magazine, checking social media and packing away our supermarket delivery- or rather, most of our supermarket delivery. I leave out the several bottles of wine and beer that were delivered, along with the sweet and savoury snacks. Katie arrives home just after 5:30pm, which I take as my cue to retreat to my bedroom to change for the night ahead.

Even though we won’t be leaving in the flat and all we’ll be doing is watching television, it’s still a party, and as such, my ‘casual casual’ outfit needs to give way to something a lot less 'comfortable'. First, of course, I fix my make-up- bronzer, thick eyeshadow and mascara and blood-red lipstick. I have to smile at the fact that what took me ages when I was sixteen takes me mere minutes now that I'm twenty-three. Once that’s complete, I exchange my cotton bra and panties for a sexy black lace thong and a bra that is a lot more 'enhancing' than this morning's. Even though there won’t be any single boys coming tonight, I’m going to make an effort anyway, as it's always been the case that the better I look, the better I feel. And tonight, I intend to look as sexy as possible, and feel as good about myself as it’s possible to get. I mean, as the daughter of a millionaire, I have to make an effort, don’t I?

Once my underwear is in place and my body is appropriately shaped (‘shape’ being very much used as a verb in this contact), I pick out a pair of fancy silver earrings and my favourite necklace, followed by a pair of thin black tights from my hosiery drawer before picking one of my favourite dresses out of my wardrobe. Even though it actually has a label in it, rather than being designed by Ophelia, Sarah or Lauren, it's still gorgeous. It's jet black, has short, cap sleeves, a plunging neckline, a skirt that just about comes to mid-thigh if I'm diligent about yanking it down often enough and is so skin-tight you'd swear it was made out of lycra. A pair of matching pumps with a 3.5” stiletto heel complete my look, and as I examine myself in my mirror, I feel incredible- the person looking at me from my mirror has never looked as girly or as gorgeous as they- or rather, I do right now. If only more people could see this side of me- especially those looking for a 'Cinderella'…

After taking a full-length photo for my small in number but still loyal Instagram followers, I head out into the living room, where Katie is also wearing a short, fancy dress- and a wide grin on her face as well.

“Swit-swoo Miss Hanley!” Katie teases as I do a slow turn to show off my dress. “Didn’t realise we were inviting an entire football team tonight?”

“Oh, aren’t you hilarious?” I snort. “I do sometimes dress up for my own benefit, you know? And yes, I know that sounds weird now that I’m post-op.”

“Not really,” Katie shrugs. “Nikki’s told me she still does the same, for the same reason. Hell, even sometimes I’ll get dressed up for the sake of getting dressed up, and I’m, you know, ‘no op’. And then, of course, there’s-“

“Ophelia,” we say simultaneously, sharing an affectionate giggle at the thought of my BFF.

“I think every girl’s entitled to a ‘category four’ evening now and again,” I say with a grin.

“How about every boy?” Katie asks with a sly grin.

“I wouldn’t know,” I reply with a smug grin. “I’ve never been one!” Katie and I share another giggle as we finish setting out the snacks and, most importantly, the drinks for tonight.

The other partygoers arrive shortly after 7pm, all dressed fancily- none more so than my BFF, who is wearing an extremely form-fitting floor-length dress made of black lace with intricate silver and gold thread stitched throughout. The skirt of the dress has a slit on the left-hand side that goes almost all the way to her hip and the sleeves and décolletage are made of a dark, translucent mesh material with delicate gold fractal patterns sewn throughout. On her feet are sturdy-looking strappy sandals with a 5” platform heel and silver and gold threads, like the ones in her dress, are weaved all throughout her waist-length hair. And, of course, her waist has been pulled down to around 22 inches by a torturous-looking corset.

“I need, need, NEED that dress!” Katie squeaks as she examines my BFF’s newest creation. “Hi Telemachus.”

“Good evening, Katie,” Telemachus replies with a warm smile.

“Second fiddle again?” I tease the tall young man, who simply chuckles quietly.

“I would be content to play one millionth fiddle to my beloved,” Telemachus replies as he exchanges a soft, gentle kiss with his wife, earning happy sighs from all of us.

“Tonight, however, we are all playing second fiddle,” Ophelia announces. “To Mike.”

“To Mike!” The assembled crowd all cheer- though I obviously replace ‘Mike’ with the word ‘dad’.

“Do you know how he did, then?” Lauren asks.

“We do,” Ophelia replies. “And no, we shall not tell you ahead of time.” My BFF and I share a smirk as we’re bombarded by a chorus of boos from our friends.

“Meh, we’ll find out in the next few minutes, anyway,” Sarah shrugs. “I’ve texted Jexy and told them how to set up the VPN so they should be able to watch along as well.”

“Isn’t it, like, mid-afternoon where they are?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Sarah replies. “But do you really think they’ll miss this?”

“They’ve never even met my dad,” I chuckle.

“No, but they have met you,” Nikki says with a grin as she links fingers with her wife. Needless to say, a couple of tears trickle from my eyes at the love and acceptance that comes at me from across an ocean.

“Are we expecting anyone else?” Lauren asks as the undoubtedly first of many bottles of wine is opened and we all pour ourselves a glass.

“Just Becky,” I reply. “Oh, and Josh and Alex from work.”

“No one else from work coming?” Nikki asks. “Didn’t you say you work with someone who knew you and your dad from Brighton?”

“Who, Tom?” I ask. “I asked him, didn’t get a reply though. And me and his girlfriend… Ehh, long story.” That runs all the way from ‘besties’ to ‘can barely stand to be in the same room as me’, I think to myself as I remember my history with Caitlin and the other girls I hung around with all throughout primary school.

“Yeah, I had a few ‘friends’ from school who were like that,” Sarah sighs as we all start to take our seats.

A short while later, after the last of our guests have arrived, the theme tune to the long-running game show plays and the excitement level in the flat intensifies. There’s some (mostly) good natured boos when Jeremy appears on screen, followed by loud cheers when dad appears, and even louder ones when he wins fastest finger first and takes his place in the hot seat. The excitement level starts to cool down as dad starts answering the questions, but when he reaches £8000 without using up a lifeline the excitement levels reach fever pitch and the tension becomes palpable. It eases off slightly when dad hits £32 000, his chosen ‘safety net’, but it goes right back to the level it was before when he hits £64 000, and then £125 000. By £250 000, the entire apartment can only communicate in excited squeaks, including the men, and even including me, even though I watched the show being recorded. The £500 000 question is met with even higher pitched squeaks, but when dad announces that he knows the answer to the million-pound question, the entire flat falls silent. Again, even know I know what happens, even though I watched it live, the next few seconds seem to take an eternity as dad locks in his answer. When Jeremy announces that the answer is correct, though, the entire flat explodes in cheers and I find myself swamped by hugs from all directions.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” Nikki squeaks. “This is so amazing!”

“I know!” I squeak.

“Oh my god!” Sarah gasps. “I mean, I knew your dad was clever, but- wow!” Countless other ‘oh my god’s and squeaks of congratulations fill the flat for the next fifteen minutes before the atmosphere in the flat finally starts to settle down.

“This still seems so unreal,” Nikki says as she fans herself with her hands. “I mean, I know a millionaire!”

“You work for Joshua Benedict,” I remind my friend. “He’s still just a bit richer than my dad!”

“Well- yeah, I guess,” Nikki says with a girlish giggle. “Has he spoilt you yet, then? I didn’t see a Lamborghini outside…”

“You don’t see a driving licence in my purse either!” I retort, making everyone giggle again. “Seriously, I don’t want to be the type of person who lives off of ‘daddy’ all their life. I like my job.”

“Glad to hear it!” Alex says. “You know Terri’s gonna try to extort an exclusive interview out of your dad, right?”

“Well- that I can probably arrange,” I reply with a giggle.

“We are no longer burdened by student loans, though,” Ophelia says, earning me, her and her husband good-natured jeers from everyone else.

“Well- I kinda get that,” Sarah chuckles. “It’s not like my mum hasn’t written off a lot of my loans, heh.”

“And with your mum and Jacinta’s dad now getting together…” Katie teases, making me and Sarah roll our eyes simultaneously.

“Well, at least neither of us can say ‘they’re only in it for the money’ anymore,” Sarah says with a sarcastic snort of laughter. “Not that either of us would.”

“Agreed, totally,” I say.

“Though if the three of us do go into business and want a start-up loan…” Sarah teases, earning an angry glare from me that makes her giggle. “Kidding, really!”

“Though it would not be out of character for Mike to have thought of that already,” Ophelia says, and I’m forced to agree.

“None of the three of you are planning on going on the Apprentice, then?” Katie asks, making everyone laugh- my BFF loudest of anyone.

“It would be interesting to see how Lord Sugar would react to oneself,” Ophelia says, smiling as everyone chuckles.

“He would see you as an intelligent, articulate and talented young woman,” Telemachus assures his wife. “For that is what you are.” Needless to say, everyone ‘aww’s as the couple exchange a kiss, including myself- though I am relieved when my phone buzzes yet again to notify me of another text message.

“Go on, who’s that one from?” Lauren asks.

“Jessica and Paige,” I chuckle. “They must’ve found a way to watch from America too. Ooh, and there’s one here from Alexa and Jenny that just says ‘Skype’?”

“Ah- yeah,” Sarah chuckles. “Have you got your laptop handy, and can you sign into Skype on that?”

“Umm, sure,” I say, retrieving my laptop from the bottom of the coffee table and switching it on.

“Do you have a spare HDMI cable?” Sarah asks.

“Umm… Do we LOOK like the kind of people who have spare computer cables hanging around?” Katie replies, earning an angry stare from our friend before we share a quick giggle.

“Touché,” Sarah giggles. “Jacinta, are you signed into Skype yet?”

“Just a second,” I reply as I type in my password. Within seconds, my laptop beeps to inform me of an incoming call. After setting it up on the table so that everyone can see the screen, I click on answer and am immediately greeted by the grinning faces of our friends from Minnesota.

“Hey girlies!” Alexa and Jenny yell into the screen. “And guys, hehe!”

“Ah- yep, might be a few unfamiliar faces here today,” I giggle. “Guys, this is Alexa and Jenny, our friends from America that we were telling you about. Jexy, allow me to introduce Josh and Alex, who I work with at the magazine.”

“Nice to meet you,” Alex says with a polite wave.

“Are you our subscribers from America?” Josh asks, grinning as Jexy nod in reply. “Reckon you could get us a few more?” I giggle as Alex gives Josh a playful whack on his arm, before making it up to him with a gentle kiss.

“Aww, are you a couple too?” Jenny asks. “How sweet!”

“Yeah,” Alex replies with a sigh. “Took us some time before we could come out publicly about it, but- well, I’m sure most people here understand that.” I smile sadly as most of the room- those of us who are transgender or in a same-sex relationship- nods in agreement.

“And we’re two of those people,” Becky, my old friend from university, announces. “I’m Becky Hamilton, this is my partner Zara. It’s nice to meet you at last!”

“Likewise,” Jenny says with a warm smile. “Sarah and Jacinta speak very highly of you, and the fun they had in the university’s LGBT society.”

“Well, they’re fun people,” Becky says with a grin as she squeezes her girlfriend’s hand.

“And last, but probably least, is this guy,” Katie says as she gives her boyfriend a quick, tight cuddle. “Alexa, Jenny, this is Charlie, the guy who’s been keeping me warm for the last few weeks!”

“Nice to meet you too!” Alexa giggles. “Gonna be really great seeing you all in the flesh when we come over in July for AngelCon.”

“Totally,” Jenny agrees. “So, like, is this a couples call today or something, then?”

“Well- almost,” I reply as I suddenly feel like not just a third wheel, or a fifth wheel, but a fifteenth wheel…

“Oh- sorry, Jacinta,” Jenny grimaces. “Sometimes kinda forget, I mean, especially in that dress!” I try to hide my sadness and smirk at my friend’s compliment- something made easier when Alexa pouts and her wife has to make it up to her.

“And you are surely going to have guys kicking your door down soon,” Alexa reassures me, before grimacing herself. “Oh- not just because of the money, I mean, but- well, you know…”

“I get it, really,” I say with a smile. “And thanks.”

“Though that was AMAZING,” Jenny gushes. “I had no idea your dad was so smart, Jacinta!”

“Yeah, he- he’s always had a love of quizzes, heh,” I reply.

“Well- I was stumped after the 8000 question,” Jenny confesses. “Maybe because the questions are all for, you know, Brits- well, obviously, heh.”

“Meh, I was stuck after that point too, heh,” I chuckle.

“And I would have struggled to even answer any of the questions,” Ophelia confesses, making me smile- she’s very defensive when it comes to her dyslexia, so for her to confess this must mean she is completely at ease 'opening up' in this crowd. A far cry from the shy loner I first made friends with almost six years ago.

“Oh- Ophelia…” Alexa sighs. “Who needs book smarts when you can make dresses like THAT?” I (along with the rest of the room) grin as Ophelia shows up and does a slow twirl to show off the delicate stitching of her dress.

“I think there are only two people in this room who can claim to have any talent there whatsoever!” Nikki says, making her wife and Lauren both blush. “And believe me, I have tried!”

“Your dresses weren’t THAT bad,” Sarah teasingly reassures her wife. “Though you two can let Katie- your Katie- know that we’ve just about got her dress done so we’ll be all ready for this summer.”

“That of course assumes that we will have finished Lauren’s dress by then as well,” Ophelia teases, making our raven-haired friend blush as her fiancé cuddles her tighter.

“Ahh, we’re really looking forward to that too!” Jenny sighs happily.

“We all are,” Katie- Lauren’s maid of honour- says with a grin. “But I think we’re getting away from today’s superstar- by which I don’t mean Mike, but his super-sexy daughter, hehe!” I blush and grin bashfully as I am once again made the centre of attention, pretending to be coy even if I was secretly getting a bit annoyed at all the wedding talk.

“Who’s also wearing an amazing dress,” Alexa teases, making me grin even wider.

“Even if it was bought in a shop rather than made by her ultra-talented friends,” Lauren teases. “Though it’s not like she can’t afford the occasional designer dress now, hehe!”

“…Dad kinda wiped out my student loan,” I explain to my American friends. “And Ophelia’s and Telemachus’s as well.”

“Wow, that- that’s really cool of him,” Jenny gushes.

“As far as he is concerned, I am his daughter,” Ophelia explains with a shrug. “And as far as I am concerned, he is most definitely my father, and as such, Jacinta is most definitely my sister.”

“I have learned to accept that Jacinta may well be more of a soul mate to Ophelia than myself,” Telemachus says with an uncharacteristic smirk as my BFF slides up next to me and gives me a very uncharacteristic hug.

“D’aww,” Alexa coos.

“It was kinda a tough day when O moved out,” I say. “Though my replacement flat mate is- ehh, okay, I guess.” Everyone in the room (apart from Katie, anyway) shares a giggle as she flicks a very unsubtle middle finger in my direction.

“How are you two doing, anyway?” Katie asks our American friends. “All settled in back in the mansion?”

“Yep!” Alexa replies with a grin. “Been here a few months now, everything’s great where SOMEONE isn’t falling out with their family…” Yet another giggle spreads throughout the flat as Jenny pouts, which is only ended when Alexa begins nuzzling her neck.

“If you want stories about families falling out,” Jenny says, “you should’ve been here when Danny was working on the place.” This time it’s Alexa’s turn to put and Jenny’s turn to make it up to her, which causes yet more giggles.

“How about you, Jacinta?” Alexa asks. “Is your dad buying somewhere big that you could maybe move back into?”

“Umm, if he is, it won’t be here,” I reply. “In London a million quid will barely afford this flat! Though he has said he’s umm, leaving Brighton…”

“Aww, I was looking forward to going back to the beach there in summer,” Jenny says.

“Meh, well, we still can, just as, you know, tourists…” I mumble.

“We should’ve moved into our new place by the time you two come over,” Sarah says. “Hopefully I’ll be working by then so we can afford a two-bedroom place, meaning no more air mattress!”

“I dunno,” Alexa muses. “I- sorry, we had some fun times on the air mattress, hehe!”

“We don’t need to know about what you two did on the air mattress!” Katie protests. “Though if you really miss it that much, we could always have a sleepover at this place when you’re over, just us girls?” Despite not being consulted about this invitation, I certainly don't have any problem with it, so I eagerly nod in agreement with my freckled friend.

“…Sounds perfect,” Alexa says with a grin as her wife nods.

“Though my dad won’t be paying for any champagne, caviar and truffles for that party,” I say with a grin. “I assume you won’t mind prosecco, pizza and Pringles?”

“Absolutely not, as long as you’re all there,” Jenny replies with a warm grin.

“Though I reckon Miss Hanley may be waist-deep in marriage proposals by then,” Alexa teases. “Especially if she looks as hot as she did on TV tonight!” I giggle and blush as I’m reminded that I did have a small on-screen cameo tonight, though I think my American friend may be more than a little optimistic…

We continue chatting with our American friends for another hour before they’re called away to dinner, covering topics such as homes, families, weddings and holidays. The party continues for a short while after Alexa and Jenny’s departure, as our limited living space means no dancing, which means no music, and with many of us, myself included, having work tomorrow, everyone departs just after 11:30pm. This includes Katie, who goes back to Charlie’s place, leaving me once again alone in my own home. I know I should be happy to have so many wonderful friends, but the sudden silence after so many hours of excited noise is almost deafening.

“Wake up it’s a beautiful morning…” My phone blares at 7am the following morning, waking me from my slumber and boring several holes in my hungover skull. Why I didn’t take today off work as well is beyond me, especially as today is Friday. Maybe I didn’t expect dad to do as well as he did, maybe I wanted to save my limited annual leave allowance, or maybe I actually wanted to go into the office so I can actually see some other human faces today- never mind the fact that I had plenty of ‘face time’ last night.

Nonetheless, a couple of hours later, I arrive at the office, dressed in my usual attire of a smart top and a short black pencil skirt, and am greeted by my editor who has an extremely excited grin on her face.

“Hey Jacinta!” Terri squeaks, almost bouncing up and down with excitement.

“You watched it last night, then?” I ask with a giggle.

“Like I wouldn’t?” Terri replies. “That was SO amazing! You looked really good too.”

“For the ten seconds I was on screen?” I ask, earning another giggle from the petite young woman.

“Ten more than any of us recently!” Terri replies. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party last night, kinda had a lot of work to catch up on, heh.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” I say with a giggle. “And we were kinda packed yesterday anyway. Have Josh and Alex made it in yet?”

“Not yet,” Terri replies. “It’s just you, me and Ciara in at the moment, and she’s going to want to see you when you’ve got a free moment, but first, we need a chat.”

“Umm, okay…” I say as I follow Terri into her office. Usually it’s not a good sign when your boss wants to see you privately, but given how excited she was to see me, I doubt she’s going to fire me.

“Firstly,” Terri says, “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t come in here today handing in your notice!”

“Well, umm, it was my dad who won the million quid, not me,” I hesitantly retort. “And even if I did, I- I like working here, you know?”

“Glad to hear it!” Terri says. “You’ve really gelled well with the team over the last few months, and I don’t need to tell you how much your contacts with places like Heavenly Talent have boosted our sales figures. Though we would still be delighted to have you around even without those contacts, they’re just, like, the icing on the cake, hehe!” Obviously, this puts a genuine smile on my face.

“Thanks,” I say as my cheeks start to redden.

“On the topic of contacts, though,” Terri says, her demeanour suddenly becoming more serious, “can you get us an exclusive interview with your dad?” My editor smiles sympathetically as I chuckle- I’d been expecting this question, and she obviously knows I’ve been expecting it too.

“I don’t know about exclusive,” I reply. “ITV will probably have the last word there. He won’t say no to me interviewing him though, heh!”

“Yeah,” Terri says, letting out a light chuckle before grimacing. “You’re not- you’re not actually a journalist, though- don’t get me wrong, we’ll definitely send you down to get pictures- especially as it’d be in your hometown, if not your actual home- but we’d send, like, a writer down to do the actual interview.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling slightly deflated even if what Terri’s saying does make sense. “Fair enough. Will it be Josh or Alex coming with me, then?”

“I was thinking of sending Tom,” Terri says softly, making me fidget.

"Umm, he's not a writer," I retort. "He's a researcher."

"I know," Terri retorts, “but he’s from Brighton too, so he knows his way around, and didn’t you say your dad already knows him, and vice versa?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call them mates,” I reply.

“Well, either way, if you’re up for some overtime, can you set up an interview for tomorrow?” Terri asks. Gets it out of the way, I think to myself.

“Umm, sure!” I reply. “Shall I liaise with Tom when he gets in?”

“Oh, he- he won’t be in today,” Terri replies, and suddenly it’s her turn to look uncomfortable. “I’ll let him know, you get on to your dad after you talk to Ciara, okay?”

“Umm, sure,” I reply, though I am more than a little confused- my history with Tom is well-known here, but why it would make Terri uncomfortable is beyond me.

Rather than waste any more brain cells trying to figure it out, I leave the office and go to talk to our webmaster, spending the next couple of hours going through the photos I edited and agreeing on a layout for the next few stories we’ll be uploading to the website. Once we’re done, I head back to my desk, discovering en route that Josh and Alex have indeed made it into the office- both still looking a little rough after last night!

“Hey boys!” I tease the young couple, who both respond with frowns. “Hey, don’t blame me, I didn’t make you drink that much last night.”

“Nah, you just enabled it,” Alex replies, before grinning. “It was a great party though.”

“Yeah, many thanks again for last night,” Josh says with a tired smile.

“You’re very welcome,” I reply with a grin. “And yes, I am still working on getting you two into one of Charlotte Hartley’s parties, hopefully last night you'll have gained a few more people who'll speak up for you.”

“There’s no rush, honestly,” Alex insists. “Have you read any of the tweets from last night?”

“Umm, no,” I reply. “Kinda been trying to avoid them, heh, I’ve really gone off Twitter lately.”

“Yeah, we noticed you’ve not been tweeting as much,” Alex says. “They’re mostly complimentary of you and your dad, though.” Which means that some are UNcomplimentary, I think to myself. And those are the ones I wouldn't have been able to get past, and that's the precise reason I've sworn off Twitter. Even if those tweets were outnumbered by a hundred to one...

“Here’s a good one,” Josh says, opening the tweet on his phone. “It goes ‘This Mike guy is seriously clever, and his daughter’s fit too’.”

“…Is there a reply to that that tells the OP I’m trans, by any chance?” I ask, sighing as Josh frowns.

“Well- yes,” Josh grimaces. “But the OP then goes on to say that he still would. And he’s not a bad-looking guy, either.”

“Thanks,” I say, trying my hardest to sound sincere even as I grimace. “I know that was meant as a compliment, but-“

“Eh, fair enough,” Josh says, putting his phone away. “Sorry… We just figured, you know, you looked a little down yesterday evening despite everything, and- well, we know for future, heh.”

“I do appreciate the gesture, really,” I say. “What are you two working on today?”

“Just putting the finishing touches to the interview we did with that Albon guy, the racing driver,” Alex replies, making me smile as I remember the time I spent last month photographing the young sportsman at his plush home.

“I like how you call him ‘that Albon guy’ when he has the same first name as you!” Josh teases his boyfriend, who rolls his eyes in response as they continue tweaking their article.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” I say with a giggle. “I’m doing overtime tomorrow, and I kinda need to make a phone call, heh.”

“Oh really?” Josh asks. “Who are you taking photos of, has Terri finally arranged that Lukas Dhont interview you’ve been begging her for?”

“It’s actually my dad, believe it or not,” I chuckle. “As you predicted last night, yep. So me and Tom are heading down to Brighton tomorrow, assuming dad agrees to the interview, which in fairness, is a fairly safe assumption.”

“You’re going down with Tom?” Alex asks with an awkward look almost identical to our editor's. Him too? I think to myself.

“Yes…” I reply. “He’s from Brighton too, so we’ll know our way around easier than either of you two. Is this a problem?”

“No- nope,” Alex replies as he and his boyfriend simultaneously shake their heads. Weird…

“Well- okay then,” I say, shaking my head as I return to my desk and plug my laptop in to charge, before getting my phone out of my bag. Much to my surprise, though, when I go to call dad I find I’ve already had two missed calls from him today- god knows why he'd need to call me, though I guess it’s a question I’ll find the answer to soon, I think to myself as I return dad’s call.

“Guess who I was talking to this morning!” Dad exclaims as he answers my call after 2 rings.

“…Hi to you too,” I say, before sighing as I realise dad’s expecting an answer from me. “Oh- I dunno, Gary Barlow?”

“Close!” Dad chuckles, making me confused.

“…Robbie Williams?” I ask hesitantly.

“No, I’ll put you out of your misery,” dad says.

“Please do,” I sigh.

“It was Piers Morgan,” dad says, leading to an awkward silence.

“…That’s not much of a brag,” I say bluntly. “And how is Gary Barlow a ‘close’ guess?”

“Because they were both judge-“ dad begins.

“-Judges on Simon Cowell shows, okay, I see now,” I interrupt. “So you were on Good Morning Britain, then?”

“Nah, Piers just called up for a chat,” dad retorts, making me roll my eyes. “Yes, I was on the show, it was about 8:40 this morning, I tried calling you but I didn’t get an answer, so I figured you’d be on your way to work or already at work.”

“I’ll have to watch it on catch-up when I get home,” I say. “I’m actually calling for kinda the same reason.”

“You want to talk to Piers Morgan too?” Dad asks, making me roll my eyes again.

“No,” I snort angrily. “The magazine has asked me to ask you-“

“Sure, I’ll do an interview,” dad interrupts, making me grin. “When were you thinking of coming down, or will it be by phone?”

“Can we come down tomorrow?” I ask. “Or will you be too knackered after being on the Graham Norton show? Or maybe Jonathan Ross?”

“Tomorrow will be fine,” dad says. “I should be free all day so just let me know when’s convenient for you.”

“I’ll talk with the guy who’ll actually be doing the interview,” I say with a tired chuckle. “And I’ll have to check train times to Brighton as well.”

“Ah- well, there you kinda won’t,” dad says with an audible grimace. “I’m- I’m going to be staying over at Beverly’s house tonight.”

“…You two have something special planned, then?” I ask.

“Actually yes, and that’s another reason I was trying to get hold of you,” dad says, making me frown- interfering with dad and his lady friend’s ‘special time’ is the last thing I want to do…

“Umm, okay…” I say hesitantly.

“I’ve made a booking for us at a fancy London restaurant,” dad explains. “To celebrate the win. It’ll be me and Beverly, you, Ophelia and Telemachus and Beverly’s daughter and her wife. I figured you’d appreciate the chance to get dressed up, be treated like a princess for one evening…”

“Sounds perfect,” I say with a smile.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30,” dad says. “I’d better go now, I’ve got the Mail calling me in about 20 minutes.”

“The hardships of being a national celebrity?” I ask, smirking as dad laughs in response.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” my father says.

“Bye,” I say softly as I end the call and sit back in my chair with a tired sigh. I don’t begrudge dad his fifteen minutes of fame, of course, and I am looking forward to tonight- even if going from ‘fifteenth wheel’ to ‘seventh wheel’ isn’t much of a promotion…

Nonetheless, when I return home, I waste no time in stripping off my work clothes and fixing my hair and make-up into something more appropriate for an evening at a fancy restaurant. I apply a similar level and style of make-up to last night, though I also take care to repaint my nails a deep red colour to match my lipstick, and I tie my hair into as elaborate an updo as I can manage in the limited time available to me. With my look complete, I open up my underwear drawer and pick out a similar bra and thong to last night, though instead of the same cheap tights I wore last night, I instead opt for a fancy pair of hold-up stockings- after all, dad did say it was an excuse to get dressed up tonight. With my make-up and underwear sorted, I open my wardrobe and pause as I ponder the choices in front of me.

Dad did say it was a fancy restaurant, the implication being that it’s black tie, so I’ll need a suitable dress, and in this instance, only a black dress will do. Last night’s dress would be ideal if not for one slight flaw- it’s so short it’d show off both my stocking tops and a good amount of thigh above them when I sit down. Fortunately, it’s far from being the only black dress I own. UNfortunately, I own so many black dresses that picking just one is going to be a bit of a challenge.

I spend the next twenty minutes trying on and stripping off nearly every black dress I own. I go through countless mini-dresses, floor length evening dresses, strapless dresses, dresses with loose, translucent sleeves, bodycon dresses, bandage dresses and some styles that I don’t even know the names of, including several designed by Ophelia that have built-in lacing in the waist. I eventually settle on a sleeveless dress with a high neckline and a skirt that comes to my mid-calf, but has high splits on both sides that show generous amounts of leg (but fortunately no stocking tops). I pair the dress with my most expensive earrings and bracelets and finish my look with my favourite pair of black 4” Christian Louboutin stilettos.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I feel like every inch the princess dad said I would tonight. All throughout my childhood, I would have given anything, literally anything to be able to wear these clothes and to look the way I do- to say nothing of being able to feel the way I do right now, dressed in these beautiful clothes. All that’s missing is my prince…

However, as I’m reminded when my fancy taxi comes to pick me up, tonight isn’t about ‘Prince Charming’ or even ‘Princess Jacinta’- tonight is about the ‘King’, my father, who is on hand to greet me at the entrance to the restaurant along with his partner, her daughter and her wife- the latter two of whom greet me with eager, excited hugs when they see me!

“Hey girlie girl!” Nikki teases, her immaculately made-up face sporting a wide grin.

“Hey Jacinta!” Sarah squeaks excitedly. “You are looking HOT tonight!”

“Thank you!” I reply as I do a twirl to show off my dress to my friends. “You two are looking great too!”

“Thanks,” Sarah giggles as she and Nikki show off their own elaborate dresses. Sarah’s is obviously one of her own creations, a knee-length black bodycon dress with a single sleeve and a mesh panel on the front that shows off just enough cleavage to titillate, while Nikki’s dress is a very tight-looking strapless bandage dress that shows off her figure beautifully.

“Hi dad,” dad says, making me roll my eyes before smirking and giving him a gentle hug.

“Hi dad,” I say with a mock sigh. “You’re looking good tonight, both of you.”

“Thank you, Jacinta,” Beverly says, not doing a twirl like her daughter and daughter-in-law, but still looking very elegant in her smart black dress.

“Is that a new suit?” I ask dad, who simply grins.

“My old one was getting a bit- well, old,” dad says. “I figured I’d treat myself, and don’t worry, I’m not going to spend every penny I won on clothes, I’m not any of you three.” I, along with my friends, let out an offended pout- though it quickly descends into a shared giggle as we’re forced to concede that dad isn’t 100% wrong!

“I prefer clothes that money can’t buy, anyway,” Nikki says, sliding up to her wife and linking her fingers with hers in their private, special way.

“Speaking of which,” Sarah says as the final taxi arrives and Telemachus steps out, before helping his wife out of the car and causing all our jaws to drop.

“Oh- wow,” Nikki gasps.

“She finished it, then,” Sarah whispers.

“Is that- is that Andromeda?” Dad asks as my BFF approaches and greets all five of us all with delicate, gentle hugs so as not to disturb the elaborate creation she’s wearing.

Ophelia’s dress, which she has nicknamed ‘Andromeda’ after the daughter of Cassiopeia in Greek mythology (Cassiopeia also being Ophelia’s middle name), is probably the project Ophelia has worked on the longest. She started designing it as early as the summer holiday after our first year of university and began constructing it shortly afterward- and ‘constructing’ is the correct word.

Having been present during a lot of the design process, I know there’s as much going on underneath the dress as there is on the outside. The entire garment is built around a hybrid corset/bodysuit that was designed to bring the wearer’s waist down to a torturous eighteen inches- and Ophelia’s waist doesn’t look too far away from that. The corset has the added effect of pushing her breasts almost up to her chin- or would, if it wasn't for the construction of the dress's bodice. Said bodice is made of a combination of black satin, lace, a tights-like mesh material and lycra that only Ophelia could make look as beautiful as it is. The ‘frame’ of the bodice is the black lycra material that seems to shimmer in the twilight, with satin panels around the waist giving the illusion of making Ophelia's waist even narrower. Delicate star-like patterns have been cut out of the bodice and filled in wish the mesh material, the stars becoming denser until they reach the décolletage, which is made entirely of mesh with the occasional satin star sewn in. Ophelia became inspired when she learned that the Andromeda galaxy contains a trillion stars- and this dress doesn't look like it's too far behind. The epaulets (the only parts of the bodice that aren’t skintight) are made of billowy lace with a delicate pattern sewn throughout, and what look like bicep-length black satin gloves are actually sewn onto the epaulets.

The skirt is just as elaborate as the bodice. A short underskirt of lycra comes down to the middle of Ophelia’s thighs, and is necessary to preserve her modesty as the rest of the nearly floor-length skirt is made entirely out of lace, albeit with ‘stars’ made of satin and/or mesh sewn throughout. The skirt is extremely voluminous, creating the illusion of waves as it ripples and swirls around Ophelia’s legs with every step she takes on her 5” stiletto heels. Obviously, Ophelia has accessorised as well- all seven of the rings she usually wears are visible on the outside of her gloves, which also have ‘extensions’ (for want of a better word) added to the end to accommodate Ophelia’s inch-long nails. A black choker with an expensive-looking opal cluster is fastened around her neck, and a pair of sparkling chandelier earrings are hanging from her earlobes. Her make-up, which is heavy at the best of times, seems to make her skin sparkle in the light, as though she has tiny crystal stars stuck to her face. Her hair, which is normally elaborate anyway, is tied into a sky-high bouffant style, with sparkling crystals and pearls weaved throughout. It must have taken Ophelia hours to get ready, but it was clearly worth every second- she might well be the most beautiful woman in the world right now, and considering her childhood, she is far more entitled to think of herself as ‘Cinderella’ than I am. The difference, of course, is that she’s already married her ‘Prince Charming’…

“…I want one,” Nikki says bluntly. “I don’t care how much it costs, or how long it takes, I NEED one.”

“I am flattered,” Ophelia says with a proud smile. “However construction of a garment such as Andromeda is time-consuming, and I am already designing a dress such as this for someone else. I would, however, be only too happy to put you second in the queue, once I am finished with the next dress.”

“Who are you making the next one for?” I ask, feeling confused and more than a little jealous.

“She is making it for her best friend,” Telemachus says, sending an uncharacteristic smile in my direction as Ophelia gently takes my hand in hers. Needless to say, this causes more than a few tears to well up in my eyes.

“Oh- god, O…” I moan. “Good job I bought my mascara with me…”

“Did you really think I would make such a special dress for anyone before you?” Ophelia asks as everyone watches with wide grins on their faces. “It shall take me some time to finish, what with my work, and the wedding dresses we are making for Katie and-“

“I- I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait, heh,” I chuckle as we head into the restaurant.

“And it’ll save my credit card some punishment,” dad teases. “Hopefully.” I roll my eyes as my friends all giggle at my expense, though in truth, I couldn’t be happier to be the butt of the joke on this occasion. Even though I’m dining with three couples, it doesn’t feel like it- in fact, it feels much more like a family meal, and that’s precisely what I am- a member of this family, and I know I’d make things a lot more awkward if I wasn’t here than if I was. I’m not excluded at any point during the meal, even when Nikki and Sarah try feeding each other their dessert, prompting dad and Beverly to try- though Ophelia opts out for fear of getting food on Andromeda! Tonight might be all about dad, but I felt just as loved as anyone tonight.

Even if, when I return home, I am the only one of us who’s sleeping alone…

“Wake up it’s a beautiful morning…” My phone blares, momentarily confusing me when I check the screen to discover that it’s Saturday, only to remember that today’s the day I’m meant to be interviewing dad- or rather, today’s the day my old school friend’s meant to be interviewing dad while I sit back and take photos.

“Morning!” My flat mate says as I head through to our small kitchen to make myself some breakfast. “Good night last night?”

“Well- you put, like, a hundred likes on the photos that we took last night, so you tell me,” I retort, earning an eye roll from my friend.

“Yeah, but those were all of Ophelia’s dress!” Katie says, and I giggle as I’m forced to concede the point.

“Well- yes,” I say. “And yeah, I did have fun. And yes, that dress was even more amazing in person than the photos!”

“I bet!” Katie giggles. “Why are you up this early, anyway?” I can’t help but frown at my friend’s hypocrisy –she is extremely morning-phobic, especially so on Saturdays.

“…Really?” I ask, making my flat mate roll her eyes and giggle.

“We’re going to see Charlie’s parents today, in Herefordshire,” Katie explains. “It’s a long drive, so, well- yeah.” Already at the ‘meeting parents’ stage? I think to myself. “That’s also why I’m wearing a skirt instead of shorts, want to make a good impression, you know?”

“Okay,” I shrug. “Have you not met his parents before, then?”

“Nah, not with them living so far away,” Katie shrugs. “Hell, he ain’t even met mine, either, and they live in London!”

“Has he met either of your brothers yet?” I ask. “Your oldest younger brother’s eighteen now, isn’t he?”

“Nah, not until November, so hands off,” Katie replies, making me playfully sigh and roll my eyes. “And stop changing the subject! You ain’t told me why you’re up this early either!”

“Well, sadly, for me it’s for work,” I sigh. “Interviewing my dad today. Well, I’m photographing my dad, Tom’s interviewing him.”

“Ooh, Tom, eh?” Katie teases, making me roll my eyes. “Been a while since I heard THAT name, hehe!”

“Yes, because I’ve mostly been working with Josh, Alex and Ciara the last few weeks,” I retort. “Ugh, I- I need to dilate. You already showered today?”

“Yeah, and take your time in there,” Katie teases. “I am of course referring to both the shower and the-“

“Yes, thank you!” I interrupt, sighing as I finish my coffee and head back to my bedroom, where I dilate, singing 'I'm Every Woman' louder than I've done for a long time...

Once I’ve finished dilating, I take a quick shower and applying a light layer of make-up before heading back to my bedroom and picking out my outfit for the day. Unlike last night’s ‘special’ underwear, today I opt for a very plain unpadded white bra and even plainer white granny panties, followed by a pair of opaque black tights. It is May, though, and it’s likely to be a bit warm for tights this thick, but today I don't want to give anyone the wrong impression- whatever that 'impression' is, anyway. As such, I also pick a turtleneck top (albeit a relatively thin one) and a floaty knee-length skirt out of my wardrobe, and a pair of comfortable flats off my shoe rack- a far cry from the expensive heels I wore last night. A pair of plain gold studs and my black watch complete my look, and when I look at myself in my mirror, I can't believe how plain I look when compared to the last two nights. Fortunately, for me, ‘plain’ also means ‘girly’, as for me, everything means ‘girly’, so on this occasion, 'plain' isn't necessarily bad.

With Katie having long since left the flat, I stick around for a bit, catching up on emails and Facebook, before letting out a long sigh as I head out of the flat and toward the nearest tube station. I have to change trains in order to get to Beverly’s house, and when I arrive at Notting Hill Gate, my colleague is already there waiting for me.

“Hey Jacinta!” Tom says with a smile that looks VERY forced.

“Hey Tom,” I reply. “Umm, good day off yesterday?”

“Meh,” Tom replies with a non-committal shrug. “As good as it could be, I guess.” Okay, that was cryptic, I think to myself. Maybe he’s nervous because for once, he’ll be doing the interview himself rather than arranging it?

“Did- umm, were you watching on Thursday?” I ask.

“Yeah, I caught bits of it,” Tom replies. “Watched it again yesterday on catch-up, just to, you know, prepare for the interview.” Getting weirder… I think to myself.

“Right…” I say as we get on our train. Tom isn’t usually this evasive- it was awkward at first, when I started working for the magazine, because of our history, but over the last few months, things between us have become almost normal. So what’s changed? “Did you- did you see any of the photos I put on Facebook last night? I mean, you’ve got to set up an interview with Ophelia after THAT dress, right?”

“Yeah, I- I haven’t looked yet, I will when I get home,” Tom says, making me sigh in frustration.

“Okay, what is it?” I ask.

“…What?” Tom asks defensively.

“You know what,” I reply. “This. All- well, ‘this’. Last time I talked to you we actually, you know, talked. So what’s changed?”

“Caitlin and me, we- we split up,” Tom explains, making me fidget awkwardly in my seat.

“…Ah,” I mumble.

“Yeah,” Tom sighs. “On Tuesday. We’d been drifting apart for a while, and I thought that moving on together would- ugh, I dunno what I thought. All I know is that I’m now a fully paid-up member of ‘Club Single’.”

“Well, take it from a lifelong member of that club, it’s not a lot of fun,” I sigh. “No wonder they were being awkward at work yesterday, heh.”

“Umm, why would work be awkward?” Tom asks. “It’s not like me and Caitlin were married or anything, and- oh.”

“…Oh?” I ask.

“I get what’s happened,” Tom sighs. “Caitlin and I split up, and they naturally assume I’m going to jump straight into bed with you.”

“Yeah,” I say with a nervous giggle as my stomach starts to do somersaults. I've always been attracted to Tom, even- or perhaps especially- when he's been unavailable. And it’s not like Caitlin’s a friend, after all- she made THAT clear the last time I saw her at Christmas. But as attractive as he is, nothing about Tom screams ‘Prince Charming’. He’s the guy I chat with about work while grabbing a coffee, the guy who fills in my spreadsheets rather than filling in- well, THAT should really go without saying. ‘Prince Charming’ needs to be more than just cute, he needs to be, well, ‘charming’. The guy you drink champagne with in a fancy restaurant, not the guy you share a pint with in the pub after work… Doesn’t he?

“Well, no chance of THAT happening, right?” Tom asks with a nervous-sounding chuckle.

“Nope!” I reply with a nervous giggle of my own. “Do- do you think you’ll stay friends with Caitlin?”

“I dunno,” Tom shrugs. “Think she’s moving back to Brighton, so- ugh, I dunno. Do you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

“Don’t- don’t say it THAT way,” I chastise my friend, who blushes and giggles. “Make me sound like I’ve dated an entire bloody rugby team! But to answer your question, no, not really… My- my friend Ian invited me to a Star Wars marathon at his flat today, but his best friend will be, and he’s my ex, so I’m gonna pass. That, plus- and bear in mind, I DO love Ian, umm, like- like a brother, but- but watching Star Wars for twelve straight hours with a bunch of sweaty nerds sounds like my idea of hell.”

“Well, it IS the day for it,” Tom says, making me frown in confusion. “Star Wars day? May the fourth, as in ‘May the fourth be with you’?”

“You total geek!” I tease, making my friend chuckle. “Maybe I should give you Ian’s address?”

“I’ve kinda got work to do,” Tom chuckles. “Ian’s your transgender friend, isn’t he?”

“Well- one of them, yeah,” I reply, making Tom grimace.

“Ah- yeah, sorry, I- I didn’t mean it like THAT,” Tom says.

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “I knew what you meant. But yeah, he’s a friend who’s transgender, was raised a girl, is now a man. Kind of a cute man too, even if he is a bit short for me, heh.”

“Ah- yeah, I can kinda get why,” Tom says. “Not many, you know, biological women who are 5’ 10” or taller. Ugh, and I definitely didn’t mean THAT like THAT…” I place a gentle hand on my friend’s shoulder as he grimaces yet again.

“It’s okay, again,” I chuckle. “Though after eight months of working with me I’d have hoped you’d have figured that out by now, heh.”

“I’ll learn eventually,” Tom chuckles. “Though would it help if I say I only said that because I don’t see you as ever having been male? Or should I just get my foot surgically grafted to my mouth now and have done with it? …And yes, I just realised I made a joke about ‘surgical grafts’, so I’d better get used to the taste of shoe leather, heh.”

“I wouldn’t make those jokes around my dad if I were you,” I tease. “So, are- are you feeling a little bit better, then?”

“A little,” Tom replies with a sad smile. “I do like talking to you, Jacinta.”

“Same here,” I say with a smile. “, So, then, you- are you ready to interview my dad?”

“Meh, ready as I’ll ever be,” Tom shrugs. “I got a few pointers from Lizzie about what to say and how to say it, so- yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

“Still think it’s weird,” I say. “The reason you were sent with me is because you know your way around Brighton, but now we’re not going to Brighton, so- eh, I’m probably overthinking it.”

“Meh, probably,” Tom shrugs as our train reaches its station and we disembark.

It’s only a short walk from the station to Beverly’s house so we arrive a short while later, dad greeting me with a long hug before exchanging a manly handshake with my colleague.

“Hi Tom!” Dad says with a grin. “It's been a while, heh!”

“Yeah,” Tom says as I set up my camera. “I’ve just got a short list of questions I want to ask you; Jacinta will get a few candid shots of us talking, then she’ll shoot a few posed shots at the end, okay?”

“Yep, sounds good,” dad replies.

“You’re not getting sick of giving interviews yet?” I tease my father, who simply chuckles in response.

“We won’t be long, I promise,” Tom says. “Then we’ll let you get back to enjoying your fortune, heh!”

“I don’t mind, honestly,” dad says. “I quit my job yesterday, so it’s not like I haven’t got loads of free time!”

“You really have left the computer shop, then?” I ask.

“Well, that was my job, which I just said I quit, so- yes,” dad replies. “Bit of an end of an era, I know, but it was time.”

“Okay…” I say. “I- umm, I’m just about set up, so you can start whenever.”

“Okay,” Tom says as he gets his iPad out of his rucksack and makes himself comfortable.

As promised, the interview doesn’t last long- only thirty minutes, at the end of which dad poses for some photos, including a few self-timer photos with me. With his work done, Tom bids us farewell, while I take my time in packing away my camera and equipment so I can chat to dad a bit more.

“There, that wasn’t so painful, was it?” Dad chuckles.

“Umm, pretty sure I should be the one asking you that,” I reply, making dad laugh even more.

“Ehh, I’m getting used to it by now,” dad says. “Just in time for my fifteen minutes of fame to come to an end. Not that I’ll be sorry when that happens, but- yeah.”

“Oh well, you’ll just have to take comfort in the one million pounds you won earlier this week,” I say, making dad laugh again.

“Oh, I will,” dad chuckles. “How about you, Jacinta?”

“Hmm?” I ask. “What about me?”

“What will you take comfort in?” Dad asks, confusing me.

“Umm, my job?” I reply. “My friends… What are you getting at, dad?”

“The way you were looking at that young lad who just left,” dad replies, making me sigh in frustration.

“Tom and I aren’t an item,” I say. “He’s only just got out of a long-term relationship. His ex was actually Caitlin- you know, who I was friends with in primary school?”

“Oh- her,” dad says. “God, yeah, I remember her. Haven’t thought about those days in years, heh.”

“Yeah, nor have I,” I snort. “Reason being she may have been ‘Jason’s friend but she had no interest in being ‘Jacinta’s.”

“Ugh,” dad spits. “I’m sorry to hear that, Jacinta. Tom didn’t seem to have any problems with you, though?”

“Nah, Tom’s cool,” I say, before rolling my eyes as dad smiles at me. “Just not ‘Prince Charming’ material.”

“Yeah, well, neither were Simon and especially not Lee,” dad reminds me. “Though it’s not like you don’t have plenty of time- I mean, you’re only 23, I’m the wrong side of fifty and- well…” Despite myself, I can’t help but crack a smile as Beverly walks through from the kitchen carrying three mugs of tea before giving my father’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. After the dream I had about mum a few nights ago, even this gesture makes me feel a little awkward, but that feeling soon passes when I see the look of genuine happiness in my father's eyes.

“I guess,” I shrug. “Kinda hard when I’m literally the only single person I know.”

“I know,” dad says softly. “But I know it won’t be for long. And I just won a million quid on a quiz, so I know a thing or two about, well, ‘knowing things’, heh.”

“And what you’re feeling is far from out of the ordinary,” Beverly advises. “There are countless transgender people out there, even those who are post-op like yourself, who feel what who they are will prevent them from finding love. Take it from an expert- this is simply not true, not in the slightest.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t for Nikki,” I snort.

“Nikki was extremely lucky in that she found her soul mate early in life,” Beverly retorts. “Most cisgender people aren’t even that lucky. I wasn’t that lucky. Nor were you. But that doesn’t mean it’s never going to happen.”

“And you shouldn’t expect ‘Prince Charming’ to ride up wearing a morning coat and riding in a horse and carriage,” dad says. “Odds are just as good he’ll be wearing jeans and a t-shirt and riding the Tube. Just as long as he’s right for you.”

“Can- can we please forget about my non-existent love life for now?” I ask as I feel my insides start to churn with embarrassment.

“Just as long as you don’t,” dad says softly. Chance would be a fine thing, I think to myself as I finish packing away my camera gear.

Of course, I know that dad and Beverly are both correct, that expecting a handsome stranger to swoop in out of nowhere and sweep my off my feet is silly. But I’ve always known- or at the very least, always suspected- that when ‘Prince Charming’ comes along, I would know instantly that I was in the presence of the man I would spend the rest of my life with.

As it turned out, I couldn’t have been more wrong…