Chapter 4: The Explanation

As if on cue the telephone rang.

It was Polly.

“Hope it wasn’t too bad Michele; meet me at the Boar’s Head pub at five pm honey; I have to go,” Polly hung up.

Michele removed her clothing and tossed the soiled lingerie, along with the lingerie she had worn yesterday into the washer. She scrubbed off her makeup, removed her breastforms and removed nailpolish. She had another shower, dressed as Michael and sat smoking and drinking tea, watching the clock and thinking about what Dr Marron had said about paying good money for her services.

Polly was sitting at a small table in the snug of the Boar’s Head, a gin and tonic sat untouched alongside an ashtray with a smouldering cigarette burning away. She was still in her nurse’s uniform having come straight from work; it was the navy blue tunic as opposed to the white one Michele had worn earlier in the day. The white uniform was the nurses’ summer uniform and Spring was still some months away.

A young man dressed in labourer’s work clothes was having an animated conversation with Polly; the man was obviously drunk and Michael was a little reluctant to join them but he strolled over.

“See I told you I was waiting for someone; so please leave,” she said to the navvy.

“What? This weedy little poof? You can do better than that luv,” the young man slurred.

Wagging her finger, Polly beckoned him closer and he leaned down to hear what she had to say.

“Fuck off!!!” she screamed in his ear and drove her heel into his shin.

Polly had swapped her work shoes for high-heels and Michael imagined the pain must be excruciating. The navvy howled with pain, hopping on one leg, holding his bruised and scraped shin. In the main bar, his workmates watching him through the door to the snug bellowed with laughter.

“You ok luv?” the barman put his head through the small servery hatch.

“Yeah, this tosser just can’t take no for an answer,” she nodded at the wounded workman who was hobbling away to join his friends.

“A pint please, and another gin and tonic please,” Polly called to the barman.

The barman raised his eyebrows, but went away to pour the drinks. Polly smiled at Michael and downed her drink in one long gulp. She patted the padded bench seat and Michael sat down beside her; the space was small and cramped and they sat thigh to thigh.

The barman bought out the drinks and set them down and Michael pulled at his pint and Polly sipped her drink; the barman left and they were left alone in the snug.

Polly pecked Michael on the lips and squeezed his thigh briefly.

“What’s this about?” Michael said taking another sip of his pint.

“Tell me about Dr Marron; was it terrible?” Polly asked, looking Michael.

“Really? That’s what you want to know?” Michael replied, a little angry.

Polly nodded.

“Michael; we are a little more than friends, aren’t we?”

“Ok, the truth. It was a little like what happened on the ward. At first I was disgusted and I fought him but...”

“But?” Polly leaned in closer.

“But ok; the truth. After a while I liked it; I capitulated. I orgasmed and I liked it.”

“But ... after, well I felt defiled,” he concluded.

“Sort of like ... Well, sort of like what happened with me?” Polly asked.

“No that was consensual! Yes, I guess to some extent you seduced me; but I was a willing participant from the beginning. In this case; I was forced to participate in an act to which I did not consent,” Michael took another draught of his beer.

“But eventually you liked it?” Polly asked.

Michael slammed his pint down on the table.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I liked it!” he protested.

“Ok. Calm down; I had to ask because I need to know. You could say I wanted to ease my conscience,” Polly replied.

“I filmed you at the hospital. I had no choice; I had to. I came around to your house to teach you how to use makeup and to feminise yourself; because I had to.”

“But what happened between us; that was because I wanted it to,” Polly confessed.

“So now what?” Michael asked, draining his pint.

“So now you spend some of that five pounds that Dr Marron left you and buy a round,” Polly smiled at him.

“And then I’m going to tell you something. Something you won’t like but need to know.”

Michael went up to the servery and ordered two gin and tonics; doubles. He figured he was going to need a double. He returned to the table and Polly had already lit two cigarettes; he took a deep drag and looked at Polly quizzically.

“You are meeting with Matron Holliday tonight. It’s not negotiable but forewarned is forearmed,” Polly held up her hand to prevent Michael from interjecting.

“It’s an elaborate scam involving blackmail, prostitution and lots and lots of money,” Polly began.

“Dr James Lovejoy commenced his residency at CMH about two years ago and as well as trying to shag as many nurses as possible, he took Amanda Holliday as his lover.”

“They hatched a plan and secretly photographed some of the nurses ‘inflagrante delicto’ so to speak with Dr Lovejoy, then they blackmailed them. Some of the nurses just told them to fuck off, but some of them, myself included, were duped into their conspiracy.”

“Let me guess. They prostitute them out,” Michael interrupted.

“Yes. Some reluctantly at first but the money is far more than they make nursing,” Polly went on.

“Without sounding churlish, you were tipped five pounds today; that’s nearly a half a week’s wages.”

Michael blushed and was about to defend himself but decided to let Polly continue.

“So CMH runs a thriving prostitution business on the side. Incredible as this may seem; it is true. There is enough money being made that bribes can be paid to those who need to be bribed, selected members of board and the administration, and a tidy sum is still made by Amanda and James.”

“But how can they get away with it? How come someone hasn’t gone to the authorities or the police?” Michael asked.

“Well why won’t you?” Polly countered and drained her drink.

“Well because ... I’m in a totally different situation. I’m a; well I’m a...” he left the sentence unfinished.

“Yes you are a man in a job that is traditionally done by women; and you are a ... well you are a transvestite. So you are likely to be locked up just for that. It’s still the nineteen-fifties Michael,” Polly had summed up his situation perfectly.

“The other nurses, the ones they blackmail, they either capitulate or they move on. Lovejoy and Holliday win either way. They have a small stable of nurses who prostitute themselves or they let them go, knowing they will never come forward while they have the damning photographs.”

“So why me?” Michael asked.

“Because we have expanded our customer base and it now includes cliental who have particular peccadilloes,” Matron Holliday interjected.

Amanda Holliday had crept up to the table without Michael even knowing. Michael flashed a malevolent stare at Polly and turned to his nemesis.

“What the fuck do you want?” Michael glared at the Matron.

Amanda Holliday ignored his question.

“You can leave now Polly; and you keep a civil tongue in your head Nurse Nyland, I’m still your boss,” Matron smiled at them both.

“Get a round in before you go,” she clipped at Polly who was gathering up her purse and cigarettes and putting them in her handbag.

Matron Holliday took Polly’s seat.

“Ok Nurse Nyland, I’m meeting you here in a public place but our privacy is guaranteed, I tipped the barkeep five bob so we have the snug to ourselves,” Amanda began.

Michael sat in silence fuming.

“Oh come on Michele; don’t pout. Brian tells me you quite enjoyed your little interlude this afternoon,” Amanda smiled at him.

“Don’t call me that!” Michael hissed.

“I’ll fucking-well call you what I like! You work for me as Nurse Michael Nyland at Chelmsford Memorial Hospital and as Nurse Michele Nylons wherever I tell you. I’m your boss in both instances,” Amanda did not appear in any way intimidated.

Polly put two double gin and tonics on the table and smiled wanly at Michael before she turned and left.

“Lovely, isn’t she? One of our best earners,” Amanda sipped her drink.

“So ... Polly has probably told you far too much than she needed to, but you get the gist of what this is about.”

“I find you the punters, you service the punters, and we all make a quid,” she smiled.

She lit two cigarettes and offered one to Michael who was at first inclined to crush it out on her face but accepted it and took a drag.

“Look it’s not too bad. Did you really think you could steal knickers and stockings from the nurse’s change room and I wouldn’t know it was you?”

“We’d been asked by a few of the punters if we could provide them with a transvestite, there’s no accounting for taste, personally I think it’s depraved, but there is money to made.”

“So you were the perfect choice,” she sucked her fag and took a deep draught of her drink.

“And the great thing is, you only have two choices. Give up nursing, and even if you do I’ll make sure your family and friends see the pictures I have, or go along.”

“As you found out this afternoon it’s not that bad if you go along,” she sneered.

Michael blushed; Dr Marron had obviously reported to her the details of their encounter.

“And it pays. You owe me fifty quid for the makeup and clothes we bought you. You can keep the fiver that Dr Marron tipped you, you keep all the tips and fifty percent of the fee. So your debt to me will be cleared before you know it and then you will be making more money as a prossie than as a nurse.”

“What if I just tell you and Dr Lovejoy to fuck off?” Michael hissed at her.

“Oh come on Michele; you know what will happen if you do,” Amanda replied.

She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope.

“The Chelmsford Ambassador Hotel; be there at eight pm tonight. Pack a bag with what you need. The details are in here. Don’t fuck this up, he’s one of my elite punters,” Matron slid the envelope across the table and stood.

She smiled at him, downed her drink and turned on her heels and strode out of the pub.

Michael seemed to be collecting quite an accumulation of envelopes. He resited opening it until he was home and seated on the couch. He opened the envelope and shook it and a note and a passkey fell out. The note was succinct.

‘Room 302 Chelmsford Ambassador Hotel, be there in plenty of time so you are presentable by eight o’clock.

You won’t be asked any questions and you don’t need to tell the man anything other than what he already knows.

Wear the blue uniform’

It was half-past six so Michael hurriedly packed the necessaries into a small suitcase, hurried outside and caught the bus to the high street. The Chelmsford Ambassador Hotel was only two blocks away from CMH so it was easy to find.

Despite his trepidation, no one challenged him when he walked through the lobby, up three flights, and down the corridor, where he found room 302.

It had been freshly serviced and there were fresh flowers and a small bar set up. There was even an ice bucket; quite a luxury. Michael poured a G and T and opened the suitcase. Michael’s conscience transitioned and she began to think of herself as Michele as she stripped naked.