Paul returned on Friday as promised, and I went and stayed with him in his cottage. There was a farmyard opposite, and Ed and his team set up there. Paul and I had a very carnal night on the Friday and slept late into Saturday morning.

I got up around ten, and had a shower, and he plodded to his computer to get his first article finished for Monday. I dressed in a suede skirt, with a fawn sweater, and my suede boots. His larder and fridge were empty, so at noon, I took the Mini to Sainsbury's to do some shopping. As I was pushing my laden trolley to my car, a big black van pulled up along side, and the sliding door opened.

I was bright enough to push the trolley at the man who jumped out, and I turned and ran, screaming as loud as I could.

I heard some cursing, and "Get the bitch!" from behind me.

I ducked left, as I saw one of the men sprint to my right to cut me off. I cursed my high heels, and hoped that the police were with me.

I reached the end of the car park, and was against a wall. I turned and looked as three men in dark clothes closed in on me.

I looked round for anyone to shout for help to.

"Come on, nice and peaceful, and no one will get hurt," said one of the men.

I felt my mobile in my pocket, and keyed it on, then pressed 999. I watched as the van was driven slowly towards me, and I was now as far up at the back of the car park as I could get. There was nowhere else for me to run.

The man who had spoken to me, took a length of cord from his pocket and started to wrap in round one hand. His meaning was clear. I was about as terrified as I could get.

"Look, what do you want me for?" I asked.

"Shut the fuck up!" said the man.

At that moment, two dark cars screeched to a halt, a dark Vauxhall and a Range Rover.

I saw the blue light inside the Range Rover, and just sat on the ground in relief.

"ARMED POLICE. DO NOT MOVE!" came the amplified voice.

The three men looked totally startled, and the man with the rope recovered first, and lunged into his jacket pocket with his right hand. I watched in slow motion as his hand came out holding something black, and he started lifting it towards me. Realising it was a gun, I simply lay flat and rolled under the nearest car.

There were four loud bangs. Very loud. And I passed out.

I was looking at the sky. A fluffy white cloud was floating overhead, and a voice intruded on my consciousness.

"Josie! Josie! Hey are you all right?"

I looked up, and there was Pete. He was looking down at me, with a worried expression.

I was so relieved I burst into tears, and clung to him.

It was then I saw the body.

Two officers had shot the man who had been drawing the gun, and all four bullets had hit him. They had covered the body with a blue sheet, but I saw the pool of blood on the tarmac.

"Come on, let's get you away," Ed said.

They took me to the Range Rover.

"Wait. My shopping," I wailed, and they looked at each other.

They drove me to where my trolley was still standing, and watched bemused as I loaded my shopping into my Mini.

"Follow me, or something." I said, and tried to open my driver's door. I was shaking too much, and I felt Pete take my keys from me.

"Get in the Range Rover, I'll take this to the cottage for you."

Ed stayed at the scene as more police cars turned up. I sat and shook all the way back to Paul's.

I just sat in the back of the Range Rover, unaware that we'd arrived.

Pete opened the door.

"Come on Josie, we're here."

I looked at him, and then at the cottage. He was holding his hand out to me, and I took it.

"How did they know?" I asked.

"The car. They were waiting for the car."

I shook my head.

"No. They've been watching me. How come they never saw you?"

He shrugged.

"Probably because we are very good at what we do."

"Will they try again?"

"Not now. They know you are protected."

"How can you be sure?"

"I can't, I'm trying to make you feel better," he said with a little smile.

I smiled, but it was very half hearted.

"Shit, I was scared!"

"Yeah, I know."

Pete came in with me and explained to Paul what had happened, and left us alone. Paul held me as the reaction hit, and I sobbed in his arms.

They even brought the shopping in, but I didn't feel like cooking.

Two hours later, Ed appeared with Superintendent Hutchings.

I was curled up on the sofa, clinging to Paul. They both sat down.

"Are you okay?" Ed asked.

"Is he dead?"

He nodded.

"Who was he?"

"He was a mercenary, an ex-paratrooper and hired gun. The other three were all the same, and have said absolutely nothing ever since they were arrested."

"Did they all have guns?"

"Just two of them. The one that died and one other."

"Josie, this changes things," said the superintendent.

"Yes?"

"Yes. We have enough to act, and we are going to. Mr Lambert is going to be arrested."

"But do you have enough to charge him? One old and grainy film is hardly conclusive evidence," Paul asked.

"We need to stop him trying to harm Josie."

"But if he walks, then she is in even more danger."

"Possibly, but they've tried twice now."

"And they know I am a girl."

"Quite. So we are going to act."

"May I make a suggestion? I mean, I know I am new at all this getting killed business, but I have had a thought, and it might help," I said.

They looked at me.

"Well, if he walks free, then I am toast. Right?"

They just stared at me.

"What if I called him, at the House of Commons, in broad daylight, and tell him I am willing to give him everything I've got. They don't know you have it yet, do they?"

"No. It is the one ace I am keeping for the last minute."

"Well then, they might just arrange a meeting, and if I am wired, then I may be able to get him to confess."

Ed smiled.

"He'd never go for it."

"He would if I named him, and said I will only deal with the man in the film."

"He'd arrange to have you frisked. You'd never get a wire past his men."

"I'd get them past your men, wouldn't I?"

"My men? Oh, the officers at the House?"

"Exactly. He could hardly have his bully boys there, could he?"

The Superintendent looked sceptical.

"Look, if I wore earrings with a microphone in them, I would wear clothes that showed a lot of flesh, and he could see I wasn't wearing a wire. I would take him to a place he'd feel secure, from directional microphones, and then try. Men appreciate blondes, but never think we have brains"

"George Lambert, please," I said on the phone.

"Who is calling, please?" the female voice asked.

"Miss Fortune."

"Thank you, and what is it about?"

"It is about a constituent of his, Mr William Henderson."

"One moment."

I was put on hold, and looked at the three officers with the recording equipment.

"Miss Fortune? This is George Lambert."

"If you want the film, I will meet you in the lobby of the House in two hours, at thee p.m.."

"I'm sorry, what film is that? I don't know what you are talking about."

"Very well, I will give it to Special Branch. Goodbye Mr Lambert."

"Wait!"

There was silence. He was being very careful.

"Look, I really have no idea what you are talking about, but if you want to meet me, fine. I will see you at three. How will I know what you look like?"

"If you don't know now, then that is your problem," I said and hung up.

The earrings looked like black onyx spheres. Both were microphones, and were switched on by the controller in the van. They had a range of 1000 metres, and if a sub unit was available, someone with an earpiece could stay with me at 200 metres whilst we were 2000 metres from the base unit.

I was dressed in a simple pale blue skirt and blouse, with a leather jacket and my black boots. I had a shoulder bag, and was very nervous as I was dropped off by a 'cab' at Parliament Square. I pretended to pay the cabbie, my friend, Sergeant Ed.

"Good luck Jo."

"Thanks, watch my back."

"Count on it."

I then walked through the gate and into the main lobby. The place was packed, and security was tight. As I presented myself for searching, I noticed an extra security man slide across and give my bag a very thorough search. I was wrong, as his goons were in here. A female searched me, and really felt me. She paid attention to my belt and bra, and even went between my legs.

I was permitted to pass, and walked through.

A man approached me.

"Miss Fortune?"

"Yes?"

"Mr Lambert regrets, he cannot meet you. But you may give me the item."

I turned and saw two goons in suits by the door.

"I'm sorry, no Lambert, no film."

We stood staring at each other.

"He is very busy, but you may trust me to give it to him."

"There is a price on it."

"How much?"

"One million."

His eyebrows rocketed upwards, and he laughed.

"That's ridiculous."

"So are murder, corruption and bribery."

He looked around.

"Are you going to give me the film?"

"I will give the film to the man on it. George Lambert, and no one else."

"Wait here." he said, and walked off. I suddenly saw Pete dressed as a uniform PC, with helmet and everything, just wandering about, looking as if he belonged. He did not even make eye contact, and he exchanged words with another PC by the door.

The man was back.

"Follow me," he said, and I swallowed and went with him.

After miles of corridor, we finally ended up on the terrace overlooking the Thames.

Mr Lambert looked exactly what he was, a prosperous and important man, and he did not look happy.

"Miss Fortune?"

"Mr Lambert."

"What is this, a blackmail attempt?"

"I prefer to look at it as a business transaction, whereby I end up with some life insurance."

He almost smiled.

"Go on," he said.

"Simple, I have a CD of a film, I assume you recovered the original from Mr Henderson before you had him terminated, so you have tried twice to do the same to me, and unfortunately each time I had a mobile phone. But this can't go on, as you know I lead a complicated life, and need cash to, how shall I put it, un-complicate it," I said, as his calm face twisted into ugly anger and revulsion.

"You are a twisted little queer, so you need to have surgery to make you look like a woman?" he snarled at me, losing his cool. But it told me, and the listeners that not only did he know of me, he knew intimate details that very few people knew. I tried to annoy him further by not rising and just smiled calmly.

"No Mr Lambert. I am a woman, but I need surgery to complete the job. Unlike you, I haven't had to resort to prostituting myself to kill in order to please my masters."

"I'm saying nothing to you."

"No, I don't expect you to. Do you want the film of you leaving Mr Spooner's cottage or not?"

His eyes widened in surprise.

I laughed.

"I am not stupid. I live very close to there, and recognised it. I then checked the old news reports and two and two made four."

"Who have you told?" he said, clearly worried.

"I have given a letter to an undisclosed law firm, with a copy of the CD, with instructions to give it to Special Branch if I do not check in with them with a different codeword each week. Apart from them - no one, and this." I said, producing a CD, "is the only other copy."

He stared at it.

"Ten thousand."

"Come on, the surgery and treatment is thirty five thousand, and I need a flat, and a new car as well"

"Fifty thousand."

"One million, take it or leave it."

"For one million, I want the other copy."

"For one million, you get whatever you want, including my silence. But, you let me get on with my life."

He smirked, and I knew that once he had the CDs, I was dead.

"Done. I need a couple of days to get that sort of money."

"You have twenty four hours."

He looked at me.

"You really are a hard little bitch. How would you like a job?"

"For you? No thanks. I do have some scruples," I said, and he laughed.

I turned to go.

"Miss Fortune, fuck me up, and you are dead."

I turned back.

"Mr Lambert, you say the nicest things. By the way, was it all worth it?"

"What?" I waved my hand at the building and his Armani suit.

"All this for his life?"

He nodded.

"Oh yes, it was worth it."

I smiled, as I saw the Superintendent approach along the terrace behind him.

"Well, I hope you enjoy the time you have to think about that," I said, and walked away from him. I went through the door, and found the man who had brought me.

"Finished, for the moment," I said, and walked off down the corridor.

There was a shout, and the man had obviously seen his boss being detained, and he was running after me.

I turned the corner and found Pete grinning at me.

"Ed is down on the left," he said, and I went to a small room and was dragged into it by Ed.

He put his fingers to my lips signifying silence.

The man trotted past, cursing under his breath.

"Excuse me, sir." I heard Pete shout.

The man flustered, and unarmed, stopped and approached the officer.

"A young lady was here, I think she sneaked in past security," he said to Pete.

Pete smiled.

"You, sunshine, are nicked. Accessory to murder, kidnapping and conspiracy to the above."

Before the man was aware of what was going on, Pete restrained and handcuffed him. I then appeared with Ed. The man saw Ed's MP5, and realised that he and his boss were now well and truly sunk.

The rest of the day consisted of sitting in a small office in New Scotland Yard, and compiling a very detailed statement of what had happened. Unbeknown to me, they had even managed to get film footage of our conversation on the terrace.

Eight arrests had been made in total, so far. The two from the Vauxhall - when I had followed them in the cab. Then there were the three survivors with the van in the supermarket car park, and finally, Lambert and the pair of 'security' personnel at the House of Commons.

I sat and watched the small TV as I drank my eighty fifth cup of tea. Several boxes of documents and PCs were siezed from his office and home. TV footage showed a distraught looking Mrs Lambert watching as several officers removed box after box of documents from his house.

"Officers from Scotland Yard's Special Branch raided the M.P.'s home and office this afternoon after he was arrested on suspicion of murder, conspiracy to murder and corruption allegations. They removed computer equipment and documentation from both locations. "Mr Lambert is being held at an undisclosed police station, and is facing a possible prison sentence, if charges with even one of the offences alleged come to conviction. A police spokesman spoke to me earlier."

The scene changed to the usual scene of the revolving sign outside the tower that was NSY.

Superintendent Hutchings faced the camera.

"Mr Lambert was arrested in the House of Commons earlier this afternoon after a long investigation in which we believe he has been directly involved in at least two murders and the attempt of at least two more. It is strongly suspected that Mr Lambert has used his position to abuse that trust in permitting or arranging contracts to companies who should never have been allocated them.

"All I can say is that we are actively investigating Mr Lambert's and his associates' activities for the last thirty years."

The scene went back to the reporter, who waffled on about the impact this might have on the already beleaguered Blair administration.

I was tired, and I got a call from Paul on my mobile. I told him how things went, and then he told me that he was on a train heading to Cornwall. He had left it until now to tell me he was going to Newquay. That really pissed me off, and I said some things I shouldn't have.

I was still stewing when Tony Hutchings came in to the office.

"Something wrong?"

"Men!" I said, and he smiled. "I'm sorry, it's my boyfriend. He's fucking off to Cornwall to do his journalist bit. He knew about it weeks ago, but only told me now. He thought I would have been upset if he'd told me earlier. Like, I'm not pissed off right now."

He sat down, and looked at me.

"I've just been speaking to the boss, the Commissioner, and he has been appraised of your part in this. What you did was very brave, and you will be getting a civil citation for helping us."

"Is it enough to put the bastard away?"

"A DCI from the Thames Valley Police is coming up with the file from the 1970s. With the film, and one or two other bits, we might be in luck. There is always a chance that DNA could be on some of the evidence, which is still held on file."

"What about the case against him trying to kill me?"

"There we have been a little luckier. The man we shot had a mobile phone, and he carefully removed any numbers that called him. But George wasn't so careful. He made two calls to him, and the numbers are logged in his mobile."

"That was a bit careless."

"I think he was just very confident that he could take care of things."

"Am I safe now?"

"I think so. Whoever was in bed with him, so to speak, will now be trying to row for home and cleaning out their own house. You are no longer a threat to them, as we have everything you had, and so nothing more can be gained by attacking you. But I am going to keep the team in place until this goes to court."

"Where is he?"

"Lambert? Paddington Green. Why?"

"I just wondered. I suppose I can go home now?"

"Ed will get someone to give you a lift."

I stood up and stretched.

He smiled.

"Tired?"

"Bloody knackered. This has taken a lot out of me, and I have an 'A' level exam next week."

"You look far to mature to be doing 'A' levels."

"Thanks, flattery will get you everywhere." I said.

"So, what's next?"

"I don't know. I suppose just get my head down, get the exams out the way and then get my last bit of surgery finished with."

"Well, take care, I hope you get through everything. I suspect you will."

"Thanks. Will I be needed at court?"

"Possibly. I'll let you know."

"I'm not unwilling, it's just that I'd rather I didn't if I don't have to. It is a bit public really."

"I understand. It may not be necessary, he may admit everything."

"Yeah, fat chance." I said.

"Really?"

"I've met the man, he'll fight to the end."

"Maybe, but we can bring other pressures to bear."

"Like what?"

"Financial ones. He has a home and all kinds of other investments. We can seize everything if we choose."

"Legal blackmail?"

"Perish the thought. Discretionary justice."

"I like it."

"Goodbye, Josie. I like you, and what ever you do in your life, I am sure you will be excellent at it."

He shook my hand and then kissed my cheek.

"No matter what anyone may say, you are a charming girl."

Pete was my chauffeur, and he confessed to have volunteered for the job.

"So, where to? The boyfriend or the parents?"

"I can't face the parents, and Paul has buggered off on some job. So the cottage would be fine, I can have some peace and quiet for a bit."

He drove in silence, sensing I was not really in a chatty mood. We arrived at the cottage at about eight o'clock. I went to open the door, and he came with me, and checked the house out. He was about to leave, and hovered by the door.

"Look, tell me to fuck off if you like, but you wouldn't fancy a meal at the local, would you?" he asked.

I almost burst out laughing, as he was so shy about it, and looked nervous. I didn't laugh, and worked out that it was late and I didn't fancy cooking.

"Why not? Okay," I said, and he grinned like a schoolboy. I called Paul, and found he was ensconced in some Hotel in Newquay. He was a bit humphy with me for being a miserable cow on the phone, and the conversation was hardly ideal. I was not going to grovel to him. He claimed to have told me, but I had a lot on my mind.

I sensed that we had had our first tiff, and hoped we could recover.

Pete took me to a different pub to the one I used to go to with Paul, for which I was grateful.

I started to relax, and he told me about his life. He was single, and looking, at which point he gave me a leer, and I just laughed and shook my head.

He loved the job, and was determined to stay on firearms teams for as long as he could. We had a pleasant meal, and he made it quite plain he fancied me, and I found it amazingly flattering. I was not in the mood to go through difficult explanations and possible confusions, so I let him know I wasn't interested.

He dropped me off, and I locked the doors, and had a long soak in the bath.

My breasts were certainly respectable enough not to require the extra forms. I would have liked them to be a little bigger. My figure was improving, and my hips and bum were certainly 'fuller' than they had been. I was also getting a little podgy, so I made my mind up to start taking some exercise every day.

I went to bed rather upset that I was alone, but satisfied that at least one hurdle was out the way. I drifted off to sleep, vaguely wondering what Pete would be like in bed.

The next day I returned home to my parents and settled down to get my 'A' levels done. I followed my own instructions, and was up early every day and went for a run before breakfast. After a week, I had two companions, as Ed and Pete came with me. One of the drawbacks of their job was a lot of static work, and they rarely got time for this. So with two really hunky guys, I did a three mile circuit around the nearby park and streets.

One of the first things I noticed was that my boobs hurt. Jogging was dangerous. I was introduced to 'jogger's nipple' and invested in my first sports bra.

After a month, I had lost the fat, and even gained a little weight. I was perturbed about this, but then Pete explained that as I was exercising, I was eating more, and the muscle was heavier than flab.

I was still a good weight for my height. Having been a short guy, I was taller than average as a girl, so my nine and a half stone (133lbs) was reasonable for an active eighteen-year old.

I was taking my pills, and even attending college regularly. I had thought I wouldn't want to, but everyone was brilliant, and I eagerly sought out people my own age.

Paul came back, and things were a little strained between us. It was odd, as I seemed to be growing up, and as I did so, his place in my life was less vital. I had other friends of my own age now, and would want to spend time with Debbie and Caroline. He was a little distant, and although we still enjoyed being with each other, and sex was still great, I realised that he was unhappy with the way things were going.

One Friday in May, he took me to a really fancy Hotel called the Four Pillars at Sandford-on-Thames, and paid for a really expensive meal.

We had just finished an exquisite dessert, and he took my hand across the table.

"Josie, we need to talk."

"Ohoh, that sounds ominous," I said, and he half smiled.

"Look, I don't really know how to say this, and I don't want to hurt you by saying the wrong thing. But I sense that things gave changed."

I looked at him, and his frown was so deep, I was worried.

"Go on."

He looked around, and tried to formulate exactly what he wanted to say.

"Look, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you after the London thing. I just needed the space. Everything was you, you, you. And I was feeling squeezed out."

"Why didn't you say?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know. I didn't want to hurt you."

"Fucking off to Newquay didn't hurt?"

"I said I was sorry for that."

"I know. Go on."

"I said before it was like watching a butterfly emerging, well, it is still like that, and you've the most beautiful wings. Every flap makes me feel threatened, and I feel that you are longing to be free."

"So what are you saying?"

"I don't know. On the one hand I want you to be with me, and yet I feel that I am imprisoning something which should be free."

"I'm not an animal."

"No, you are a beautiful woman, with laughter in her soul, who needs to be free to laugh and to run, and to live life to the full."

"I also have a mind, and a right to make my own decisions," I pointed out.

"Agreed."

"Look, Paul, we found each other when we both were in need. The way I see it, our needs have changed a little. You are more confident with whom you are, and before you deny it, I have seen you chatting girls up. I am also more at ease with whom I am. I have made friends, and I need them as well as the love that you give me. I have to get through a serious surgical procedure, and what lies beyond it.

"I am eighteen. I have missed out on being a girl for eighteen years. But you are one of the few people who can really understand how I feel, just as I know what you have gone through. The crux of all this is actually basic.

"You want a wife. I know it and you know it. You have reached that point in your life where you yearn for that domestic arrangement, and it would be topped off by children. I've watched you look at dads in the park playing football with their kids, so I do understand.

"I'm not ready for that. If I was, I would be at your side like a shot, and would probably be happy to be your partner for the rest of our lives. I do love you, but I am not ready to settle down. My wings are still flapping, and I may want to try them out, but I may not. I do, however, need the freedom to choose."

He still held my hand.

He nodded.

"You are right, I have tried to find the right words, and found it hard. I love you so much, that I do want you to be my wife, and yet I can see that we are not at the same place."

We sat in silence for a while.

The waiter brought us our coffees, and we sat and drank them.

"So, where does that leave us?" he asked.

I shrugged.

"I still love you, I just am not ready to settle down yet," I said.

"Well, shall we just stay as we are until you get the urge to fly?"

"Is that fair to you?"

He smiled.

"I don't know anymore."

"Look. I stay at home most of the time, and I go to school, and most weekends we get together. I have no problem with that, and if you are happy to keep going, I have no intentions of seeking any other partners, if that is what you are afraid of," I said.

"You would have no problem attracting them." "Yeah, but keeping them?" I asked.

He laughed.

"I was going to ask you to move in with me," he admitted.

"I know. Do you really want me to?"

"You know I do."

"I've thought about this, and I admit it would be fun. For a bit. Then you'd be off on your job, and I'd be left at home, feeling responsible. I think it is best we leave things as they are. If things change, then I will deal with them, but to use your cage analogy, I don't want to be penned in, just yet."

There was something else on his mind.

"Josie?"

"Hmm?"

"What about if either of us find someone else?"

"Have you?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what about it?"

"Would you be honest with me?"

"Would you?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Paul, the question is theoretical, but I don't know. We are in a relationship. Despite our shortcomings and problems, we have formed a real attachment, and I have no sudden desire to form another one. The hassle is just too great. But should I find someone who blows me away, then I would of course tell you. I'd hope and pray that you'd do the same for me.

"I want you to be happy, and that means if our relationship founders and we can't fix it, we are mature enough to call time and walk away still friends. I need you Paul, I haven't the words to express the thanks that I owe you for what you have done for me, so lets not beat ourselves up over what may be. Lets live with what we have now."

So we left things at that. Life would go on very much the same, and the air was cleared, or some of it was.

I took all my exams, and by the end of June, as I walked out of the last one, I felt an amazing sense of anti-climax. The results were not due out until August, and I found I didn't care less. I had thought about University, and to be honest, I just wasn't interested. I had a share in a business that was solvent, at least. I was finally about to become the person I always wanted to be, and I had a potential to live my life.

Paul was away again, this time in Scotland, and I had to admit that I was no longer so tied to him as I once was. My group of friends was larger than at any time in my life, and we decided to meet at the Feathers to celebrate the end of 'A' levels.

My mother was brilliant, and had accepted me completely for who I now was. Dad was still a little funny about it. My brothers had been amazingly accepting, as if they expected me to be a girl all along. We weren't that close, so it was all academic really as we rarely saw each other. Both were married, one living in Wales, and the other in Cumbria. Both had settled into farming communities, one as a vet, the other as a doctor. I had nothing in common with either of them.

I had a shower and dressed in a short skirt and sleeveless top. It was warmer now, and I knew the Feathers got hot the last time I went dancing. I also wore sensible shoes that would not hurt my feet. They had smaller heels, and rubber soles.

As I looked at my reflection, I wondered how different I would look in a month's time. My boobs had reached 36C by themselves, and I was perfectly happy with them at that size. In fact, I was really happy with my figure in general. Physically, I was quite fit, and missed my police escort on my runs.

They were pulled off me, and had been assigned someone else now. Lambert was committed to the Crown Court, and was on remand in Brixton Prison. He was charged with two murders, and the two attempts on me. Apparently, his minions had decided to tell everything, and implicated him right up to his neck. Most only faced lesser charges, and were more than happy to drop him in it.

The Police, Serious Fraud Office and the DTI had uncovered over eighty irregularities in his dealings over the years. He was in serious shit, and every day another revelation implicated some fine respectable pillar of society.

So far, eight others had been arrested, and four faced charges. Six more had fled the country, and one had been found dead in his car, having gassed himself with exhaust fumes.

Tony Blair hung him out to dry, and was distancing him with every moment that passed.

I picked up Stewart as usual, and we arrived quite early at the pub. Several of the others were already there, and Craig was partly pissed already.

"JOSIE!" he shouted, managing to embarrass everyone who knew either of us.

"Hi Craig, you drunken git," I said, and he just laughed.

Stewart and I had something to eat, as the last thing either of us wanted was to get too drunk. I only had two weeks before my operation, and was beginning to wish it was all over.

"Hi Jo," said Debbie, and she slid into the booth beside me.

"Debs, okay?"

"Yeah. Almost."

"Almost?"

"Well, Tim is being a silly sod at the moment."

"Why?"

"I don't know. He is sending such confused messages. One minute I think he is interested, and then he is just so fucking distant. I don't understand him."

"That's men for you," I said, and she giggled.

"Do you like him?" I asked.

"Yeah, he's okay. He makes me laugh."

"He makes everyone laugh, but do you fancy him?" "I suppose so. I would if he could be serious."

"You'll find that he is insecure, and only plays the clown to mask something he is worried about."

"That's a bit deep," she said, and I grinned.

"I have had time to think deeply about shit like this," I said, and she laughed.

"So what do you reckon I should do?"

"Go for it. Tell him that you want to fuck his brains out and see what happens," I suggested.

Stewart overheard the last part and went bright red.

"What?"

"Not you, tosspot," I said, and he looked relieved.

The evening progressed, and at one point Tim Ryan asked me to dance. I noticed he kept glancing at my tits.

"Tim, don't do that sweetie, it is not very polite. If you must know, it is all me," I said, and he went bright red.

We danced some more and I got close enough to ask him about something.

"Tim, do you fancy Debs?"

He looked embarrassed.

""Look, she likes you, and you like her, stop being a silly sod and go dance with her."

He sort of smiled, and then it dawned on me. He fancied me.

Oh Fuck!

Mega-fuck!!

Fuckity-fuck!

So as discretely and diplomatically as I could, I said.

"Tim, you are a lovely lad, but I'm not in the market, she is and fancies you, so make the best of it, boy."

I then kissed his cheek and walked off the dance floor.

I went to Debbie, and said, "I've softened him up, go get him."

She grinned, and I next saw them snogging to a slow one.

Stewart came up to me.

"Come on Barbie, lets you and me boogie."

"To this, you have to be kidding."

"Oh, too good for me, eh?"

I grinned and grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. We took the correct dance pose, and waltzed about for a bit, and then he let go of my hand, and grabbed my bum with both hands.

"Stoo! What the fuck are you doing?" I said.

"Shut up, and just go with the flow," he muttered, blowing into my ear.

We were about the same height, and I put my arms loosely round his neck.

He didn't force himself against me, and it was like dancing with my brother, and then he kissed my cheek.

I stopped myself from flinching.

"Tosspot. Behave!" I said.

He did it again.

"Stewart, what are you doing?" I asked.

"I don't know. Trying out a theory."

"What theory?"

"That you taste as good as you look."

I laughed.

Then he looked into my eyes, and I didn't like what I saw.

"Stewart!"

"Shh," he said, and kissed me on the lips.

I was quite shocked and stopped dancing. He kept going, so to avoid falling over, I started again.

"Stewart. Don't, please," I said, feeling confused.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because......"

"Yeah?"

"Because, you are confusing me," I admitted.

"You? What the fuck do you think you've done to me?"

I looked at him.

"Josie, you are, no Joe was my best friend. But suddenly you came along and took him away. Then I was spending time in the company of this stunning girl, who was nicer than Joe, more fun than Joe, and yet did everything with me that Joe did. You think you are confused, what the fuck do you think I feel?"

I clung to him, and suddenly felt so guilty.

"Oh, Stoo, I didn't realise."

"No, I know. Life just went on, but I found myself falling in love with you, yet all the time I knew that underneath, you were still my friend Joe, and I went through countless sleepless nights. Then I'd tell myself that you were my friend, and you needed a friend, not a boyfriend, as you already had one of them, even if he old enough to be your dad. Then, you'd ask me round to your place and we'd fuck about with computers for a bit, and there you were with a short skirt, and those fucking legs.

"Have you any idea how fucking gorgeous those legs are?"

I was crying now, and I just clung to him.

He stopped dancing, and saw the tears.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry."

I shook my head, and took his hand, and we went outside. It was warmer than the last time I had sat here with Debbie and Caroline.

"Look, I've fucked up, big time. Josie, I'm sorry."

I took his hand.

"No, I've been blind and stupid. I expected everything to stay the same, and didn't realise that if I changed, then other things would too. I didn't see what was happening right under my nose."

"You realise I still tell my parents that I'm off to see Joe, I can't bring myself to tell them the truth," he said.

He squeezed my hand, and I found I liked it.

"What a fuck-up," he said, and I laughed.

"Yes, something like that," I agreed.

"So, now I've been an arse, what happens?" he asked.

I shrugged.

"Josie, I'm sorry, it's the booze. I had one to many."

"No you didn't," I challenged, and he grinned at me.

"How's what's his face, anyway?"

"Paul, he's fine. I think. He's away in Scotland."

Stewart was silent, and held my hand in a vice like grip.

"Stoo, let the blood flow, please."

"Sorry," he said, and let go, a bit.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked.

"Shut up, I'm trying to unscramble my brain."

"Sorry dear," he said, and grinned.

Despite my confusion, I laughed.

"You are so fucking gorgeous when you laugh," he said, spoiling my recovery nicely.

"Oh Stewart, you idiot," I said, and he just grinned again.

We'd been friends for years. I'd first met him when we were about eight, and went to school together. We found we liked the same things, and laughed at the same stupid jokes. We could both quote the entire Monty Python repertoire from memory, and the Goons were our idols.

We were, as Stewart had said, best friends, and were closer than brothers. Until I fucked up the relationship. I supposed we could stay friends, sort of like brother and sister.

"I already have a sister, and don't want another one," he said, as if he was reading my mind.

"Look, I'm not a...." I started to say, and he put his other hand up to my mouth.

"Never ever say that. I know exactly who you are, what you are, and why you are. It is the 'who' you are I am in love with. I find I think of you every bloody day, and can't wait to see you. You are the girl of my fucking dreams. And so you know, as far as I am concerned, you are a girl, no doubt and no fucking question."

I felt awful.

"I've fucked it now haven't I?" he said, and I nodded a little.

"Yup."

"So, what happens?"

I was crying, because I realised now that I loved him, I always had, but had never seen it before. It was a very different love to what I felt for Paul, it went deeper and had gone on for longer. A lot of things became clear to me, and I was split straight down the middle. On the one hand, I wanted him as a friend, and for our relationship to stay as it always had been, and now I discovered that that was impossible now. On the other hand, I found I had a yearning to know him better and deeper, yet I felt a degree of loyalty to Paul.

"I don't know," I said, being honest.

"Look, tell me to fuck off, and I will just go somewhere quite and slit my wrists. But seriously, I don't want to split you guys up."

"Shut up, tosspot," I said.

He stared at me.

"Look, Stewart, don't get cross with me, and don't push me. I just need a little time and space. There is a fuck of a lot happening in my life, and I am hard pushed to know which way is up at the moment. You have been my friend for too long for me to ever tell you to fuck off, and you mean so much to me, I could never really explain what I do feel for you. So, just take a deep breath, and count to a couple of million or something."

"One, two, three, four, five..."

"To yourself," I said, and he grinned again.

Somehow the spark had gone from the evening. I didn't want to dance again, as this would bring me close to Stewart, and I wasn't sure I wanted that, yet.

He took my hand again, but I didn't pull it away, although I was tempted. This was heavy.

"Hey, we could go back to your place and play Halo?"

I smiled, as he was such a dork sometimes.

"Shut up, Tosspot."

Debbie and Tim came out, and slumped onto the bench next to us. Debbie saw we were holding hands and grinned at me. Tim was draped around her shoulders in a very possessive and rather proprietary manner.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Tim asked.

"Just cooling off," I said.

"You've been here ages." Debbie remarked.

"Lots to talk about," I said, and she looked closely at me, and then nodded.

"Come on Tim, lets go wake up the ducks on the river," she said, standing up and dragging him off after her.

"How did she know to do that?" Stewart asked.

"She is a girl, we know little things like that. She knew we need to have some time by ourselves."

"Do we?" he asked.

"I think so."

"Oh, what for?"

"To talk."

"What about?"

"Life, us, you, me. Shit Stoo, everything."

"What's to say?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look, don't get me wrong, I agree that talking is good, but I said my piece, all I want to know is where do we go from here?"

"Where do you want to go from here?" I asked.

"I think I just want to know if I am wasting my time, or whether you feel anything for me?"

I squeezed his hand.

"You have to ask that?"

"Yes. I fucking well do. I am so fucked up by this, I really do," he said, quite heated, and I looked away.

"Sorry," he said.

I shook my head, I couldn't speak, the tears were threatening me again, bloody hormones.

"Josie, look I'm sorry, I am doing everything you asked me not to." I turned back to him.

"Well go on. Test your theory."

"Huh?"

I grabbed him and kissed him, and after a stunned second or two he responded, and our tongues touched. He suddenly responded passionately, and held me very tightly, and gently stroked my breast. My nipples immediately hardened, and the kiss entered another dimension.

He broke away first.

"Fuck!" he said.

I smiled.

"Well?"

"Huh?"

"Do I?"

"What?"

"Taste better than I look?"

He simply grinned.

"And does that answer your question?" I asked.

He looked at me, and nodded.

"Good, so come on, I'll take you home," I said, and stood up.

I drove carefully to his home, and stopped outside.

"Thanks, and I am sorry."

"What for?" I asked.

He grinned.

"Falling in love with you for one."

"Look, I don't know what is ahead for either of us, but don't expect anything from me for a bit. I have things to sort out, and I really value your friendship. So, just hang in there, okay?"

He leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips.

"If you'd ever told me we'd end up kissing, I have freaked out. But you are a really good kisser," he said.

"So are you. G'night."

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