RANSVESTIA

"But-but you can't be. I don't believe it. Keith's-you're-"

"Would you like me to give you proof?"

"Yes I-NO-oh lord, do you really mean it? You're Keith—a man?"

"I do, and I am."

He stared at me, only half believing until a great big grin spread across his face.

"But how absolutely fantastic! I'd never have believed it possible. You're so real, and so very pretty. You must have been doing this-- you know, dressing up for ages. How didn't I ever know? Does anybody?"

"Not a soul in the whole world."

"But-but-oh Keith you're fabulous! I couldn't think of anything more wonderful if I thought non-stop for a month!"

I was flooded with relief. I had dreamed for so long about him— about us really-that I could have borne to have him think con- temptuously of me. To discover sheer delight as his reaction was out of this world.

Eventually, as time moved on filling the room with the sunshine of a golden dawn, we had to turn to practical matters but it was not until after breakfast that-showered, remade-up, hair tidied and now dressed in a cool sweater and a clean but suitcase crumpled denim skirt-I took over as Alan left for his office. I cleaned up the dishes and then, full of enthusiasm, made up the bed in the guest room for myself before sweeping like a hurricane right through the flat dusting, hoovering, polishing furniture and cleaning windows. By three o'clock the whole place sparkled, and I collapsed on the sofa for a few minutes, hot and sticky, shoes off, my hair straggling from under the scarf I'd wound round it, to drink a reviving cup of coffee. And in the midst of the silence Alan's voice suddenly called.

"Hi I'm back-got some time off-told the boss a relative had arrived unexpectedly-why, whatever's the matter?"

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