Uplifting. Part One

There are so many reasons why I am where, or who, I am now. None of them really mattered at the time but, one by one, they all conspired to trick me into a new life. Not that I mind, though. I am not sure if it would have panned out any differently had I been aware of what I was letting myself into.

I should have known better, after all, I was a graduate student with a degree in Business Administration. I had been a good swimmer at school, had friends (and a few enemies) and was living in a flat near the river. I even had a good car parked in a lock-up around the corner. Life, as they say, was good to me.

My friends, from school, university and my working life, were a mix of sexes and there were also a few in-betweens that allowed me to interact with them without them jumping down my throat if I said something inappropriate. They usually just reminded me who I was talking to and I always apologised.

There were a few guys I would go to the pub with as well as going to the infrequent football match. I am afraid I had no interest in watching men run around chasing a pumped up bladder for a couple of hours.

With my female friends I had a wide range of types. I had a couple of girlfriends and was no virgin. Most of the girls I had bedded were extremely receptive to my lovemaking but seemed to fade into the background after a few weeks.

Perhaps I had worn them out as most sessions were thirty minutes or more and none of them had left without an orgasm, even if sometimes I had not performed as advertised.

I worked in an accountancy firm which also dabbled in estate planning as well as having a sideline in real estate management situated at a second office. I had started as a junior in the accounting side but had worked my way into the real estate office where I looked after residential buildings, including a group of flats owned by a wealthy investor.

He had come into money from a pools win and had the brains not to splash it out. Instead, he had used his own and other peoples’ money to buy two new four-story blocks of twenty flats each. One of which I lived in.

Keith, my landlord, granted me a rent reduction as my ground floor flat had become a sort of management point for the two blocks. Sometimes the residents would knock on my door or slip notes in my post-box with requests for repairs or notice of leaving. I did not handle any of the renting; Maureen, in the office did that, along with keeping the books.

Both blocks had been built in the same way, several smaller one-bedroom flats at the bottom, bigger two bedroom ones on the second and third floor; with the top floor being just two that would be classed as apartments, with three bedrooms and a spacious lounge.

There were two lifts in each block; one for the two intermediate floors and one which was for the top floor residents only. This was operated by a special key that only the residents had, to ensure the privacy as well as the premium rental value. On the top floor of my block there was a banker and his family and the other housed a movie producer and his actress wife. Thankfully neither was party animals.

In the other block, one was home to three models and the other was the home to a single lady; she was interesting as she always looked like she was going out for a show whenever I saw her. No dressing down for this woman.

I sometimes saw the models and they usually got around in jeans and jumpers when not heading out for a ‘do’. Although I looked at these girls with some longing, I knew that they were way above my pay grade, but we did converse easily when they wanted something done in their block.

Actually, I had helped them out once and they were quite friendly and had even given me advice on how to look after my raven hair, which was rather long and worn, usually, in a pony-tail.

One day I was in the office, trying to organise a plumber for a blocked drain in one of the flats. I knew what they would find as this particular flat was home to a terrible two-year-old who just loved sending his toys into the ‘unknown world down the pipes’ and we had been through the same scenario a few times before.

The phone rang and, as I was already on another line, Maureen answered it. She listened, said “Oh” a couple of times and made notes.

When we had both finished our calls she gave me the notes she had made and said “Gerry, you need to go to the block of flats now. Not yours, but the other one. That was Keith Upway on the phone. Justine, the single lady on the top floor, has just been rushed to hospital and he said it was unlikely she would be returning home as she has had a severe heart attack. He wants you to meet him and personally take control of what he called ‘an interesting and unusual situation.’ He did say to meet him at the café around the corner first.”

I quickly made notes for her to give to the plumber when they rang back and left the office to take the bus back to the blocks. When I got to the café I saw Keith sitting at a secluded table with a drink in front of him.

Now, I got on quite well with him and had even accompanied him a couple of times to council meetings when there had been planning changes being talked about. I had never seen him with a glass in front of him that obviously held hard liquor. He waved me over and indicated that I sit. He asked me if I wanted a drink and when I said I would like lemonade, he called to the waitress to bring one for me and another one of what he was having.

I said that I did not realise how serious this was and that I had never seen him drink spirits before evening before.

He said “Gerry, I have been thrust into a situation that I knew may come around but I never expected it so early. I know I can trust your discretion on this, after all, you did magnificently in the problem that the models had.”

He was quiet as his drink was put in front of him. While he polished off his earlier glass I sat and thought back to the problem that the models had. They had been bothered by a dope pusher who thought that, as they were in that business, they ‘flew’ regularly.

I had a cousin, Shelly, who was in the drug squad and, together, we cobbled up a plan. The girls told the pusher that they never bought drugs directly but had a ‘friend’ who would carry out the business for them. They made an appointment for the pusher to meet with their ‘friend’ at a seedy bar in the city centre.

I became the ‘friend’ with the girls helping a transformation. I had played Fagin in a school play much earlier in life so they recreated my character and I certainly looked the part when I met the pusher.

I had a thousand pounds in a brown paper bag and he had the drugs in a similar bag. My bag, however, had a small transmitter in the fold at the bottom. He was allowed to leave but I was arrested to make it all look good.

Shelly tells me that the squad use my mug shot regularly when they want to see if a witness is lying. She said that the look on their face was always priceless when told that the person they had picked from the photos was actually her cousin and totally blameless of almost everything.

The pusher was tracked and led the police to his main supplier and that particular ring was shut down for good. It took a second visit to the salon that the girls had used to remove my warts and stuck-on ear studs. They had been friendly since that time.

I sipped my drink and waited for Keith to work himself up to what he needed to tell me.

Finally, he took a deep breath and then said “Gerry, This is going to be between you and me and goes no-where else, OK?”

I nodded and said that I would never divulge his secrets.

“OK” he said, almost in a whisper. “Justine, now in hospital, had been living in that apartment free of charge. The reason is that she is family. In fact, she used to be Justin, my older brother and I had taken him out of the squat he was living in after I had won that money. He had not transitioned at that time but, with my help, he did finally follow his desires and became Justine, and a very elegant lady she was. She is in such a bad way I believe that if she ever leaves hospital alive it will be to go into care.”

I told him that I sympathised with him and offered to help in any way I could.

He then said “I love my sister and I could not be heartless and empty out the apartment while she is unable to do anything about it. What I am suggesting is that you take over the apartment and look after it without clearing out any of her things until she has passed. I will help you move and the rent would be what you are paying now. We can clean out your old flat and rent it out so I would be better off financially. When she eventually has some input into what she wants done with her stuff we can put it in bags and take it around the op shops.”

I agreed that it would be good for both of us and that we could put a note in the resident post boxes to say to leave their notes in the new location once I have moved. He gave me a key-ring with the lobby key, the apartment key and the lift key.

We then walked around to the block and went in.

As we went up to the fourth floor in the lift, he said “There is more to tell you when we get into the apartment. My sister and I had a rather unusual arrangement and one of the bedrooms is set up in a way that would not suit a guest staying over, unless the guest was into the same things we were.”

Marianne Gregory © 2022