Losing Evan, Discovering Emma. The Final Part free porn video

Losing Evan, Discovering Emma. By Tanya H. Part 7 - Living. There I was sitting behind my desk in reception, it was 1030 and Janine had gone for her break, the sun was shining outside and I was already fast-forwarding to Friday when Olivia and I were going camping in Edale again, when in walked Deb, remember her, with some grey-suited lad behind her, arms full of files and laptop bags. I recognised her as soon as she came through the doors and my face went cold as blood ran away from it - irrationally I assumed the Great Lie was up and she was here to arrest me for something. She didn't see me. Even after she'd come to the desk, shown her warrant card and announced she was DS Carter, Northumberland Police, come to see a DS de Souza for a serious case conference. Olivia didn't talk to me about the specifics of her work, so I had no idea she'd even got a serious case conference today never mind one involving people from home. "Congratulations on your promotion," I said softly as I booked her in, hardly able to look up from my terminal, never mind meet her eyes. Her mouth flopped open so suddenly I wanted to reach over and push it shut for her. "Oh my God, Kirsty!" Thank God Janine wasn't there. I showed her my lanyard with my own ID card clipped to it. "Emma, now. Making a new life, down South." Delight practically dazzled from her. Awkwardly, as there was a desk and computer monitor between us, she reached over with a hug. "That's amazing! Wow, so pleased to see you getting on." "Ah well, no point in going over old stuff is there?" Her face clouded a moment. "You're a proper rock, Kir... Emma. Really proud of you, what you've done is right canny." Olivia came through, after I called for her on the public address, shook Deb's hand and made some comment about being overrun with Geordies. Deb politely pointed out she wasn't a Geordie as she came from Seaham, near Sunderland, and Olivia said she'd already had a bollocking for calling me a Geordie when I was from Hexham. Deb frowned. "I thought you were a Tynemouth lass?" "You two don't know each other?" Olivia said, wide eyed with surprise. Deb and I shared looks. Confidentiality issues were probably filling her thoughts, while I was terrified the Great Lie was about to be exposed. "Deb looked after us. After you-know-what," I said carefully to Olivia. "Changed departments since then," said Deb. She shrugged. "Promotion." "Then I am going to buy you the poshest coffee and chocolatyest cake from the canteen for looking after her so well," Olivia said, through her wonkyest smile. Deb's confusion was clear. "We're a thing," I said quietly. "We are not a thing! But she is my girlfriend." Deb's confusion did not subside. She looked from me to Olivia and back again. "Oh. Interesting." She frowned again. "Listen, Emma. When I'm done here, can I have a word. In private? Is that okay?" "Something wrong?" Olivia asked while I was trying to read Deb's eyes. She shook her head. "Just something Emma might be interested in. About Evan." The meeting took three hours. After Olivia had said her goodbyes, with curiosity radiating from her, I'd taken a couple of minutes to walk Deb to her car. "How is he?" I asked, arms folded defensively across my chest. I hated even to think of him again. "She." "What?" "I spoke to a mate from a neighbourhood team, North of the river - he knew about my part in your case and he gave me the update. That Evan has started living as a woman, in Gateshead. I don't know the details, I could probably find out for you, but there's been some issues and he, she's been sectioned at St Nicholas's in Gosforth." "Sectioned?" "Aye. Don't know the details, like I said. But here's the weird thing. Your Evan wants everyone to call her Kirsty Connor." Which led to mine and Olivia's first fight! Thankfully it didn't last long, a flash fire which burnt out before it took hold and could do any damage. And it started because she was worried about me, certain that my trip to Newcastle would only hurt me and then demanding she should come too. There were too many Zeppelin sized gaps in my story for her to come, as much as I would have loved her hand to hold throughout. In the end she saw me off at Lincoln station, waving as the train clattered northwards, leaving me with throat closed and eyes stinging as she vanished from view. Part of me imagined it would just be easier to keep moving, to keep going North until my money ran out, in Shetland somewhere, where I could try another start. Could I really do that to myself and to Olivia? Instead I sat on the train, stared from the window and tried to find some excitement to be heading back North - home. In many ways I had missed it, but the complications crowding my attention now overwhelmed that nostalgia. And I tried to think of something to say to Kirsty, but nothing came to mind and inspiration never touched me. She'd been sectioned when she turned up at her Mam's house, banging on the door - demanding to be let in, screaming that she was Kirsty. I couldn't really imagine how traumatising that must have been for everyone. Originally I'd planned to go up in jeans and a hoodie, with my hair pulled back and without make up or jewellery. After a bit of rethink I decided the message I must present to Kirsty was one of moving on and to reinforce that I wore a flared, blue-grey casual dress that came down almost to my knees, a waist-length denim jacket, black opaque tights and flat-heeled ankle boots. A little make up, I'd applied by myself around eyes and lips along with my usual earrings, bared by my hair being twisted into a wild looking knot, gave me a casual, independent look. Being a woman, being Olivia's girlfriend felt increasingly more comfortable, more like me - less like an act. "I'm worried you won't come back," Olivia messaged not long after I'd seen her last. Like she could read my mind. "I love you," I sent back. I had no more reassurance than that. Fear of the Great Lie stripping away our love chilled me enough to make running a real option. She'd packed me breakfast; bagels, some Philadelphia and a flask, which I enjoyed a little guiltily as I watched the South turn North and considered how to ease complications from my unusual life. Kirsty and I should walk along beaches, picking up bottles and rubbing them until we found the means to make us back. But after all the elapsed time what would we be going back to? Kirsty couldn't live the life of Emma Connor any more than I could be Evan. Would I even want that again? Full realisation of what she had done with my life since that last meeting in that coffee shop was difficult to bear. The secure unit they had her in was bad enough - soothing colours, bolted down furniture, patients crackling with intensity or weary with medication, wary staff. On seeing her in that stuffy meeting room I almost turned and walked out, but I left it a heartbeat too long and she turned as the nurse coughed to get her attention. A year's hair growth had been styled into a short, feminine parted style, my old features were obscured by too much make up, long earrings swung from her ears and a hoop gleamed from one nostril. She wore a loose, flowing pastel pink top and black leggings - though her legs didn't really fill out the leggings. Her feet were bare. "Kirsty, you have a visitor," said the nurse kindly. "Oh, it's you." Her tone was dull. Under the eyeshadow and mascara her eyes were flat, unfocussed and drowning in misery. As much as I wanted to feel positive, all I could see was a man pretending at woman. "Will you be okay, pet?" asked the nurse. Any delight I'd felt as I'd looked eagerly from the train at the Newcastle landmarks gliding by, the exhilaration that had lifted me from seeing the Tyne again was crushed by this bland room and the sadness filling it. "Aye, thanks. Hello, how are you?" I couldn't bring myself to call her Kirsty. The psychiatrists were reluctant to use that name, fearing to add weight to their perception of her illness. The nurse touched my arm then left us, leaving the door ajar. "It's a bit shit. Won't you sit down?" Nervously, I edged around the tables to join her near the window. She patted an easy chair opposite hers. On a low table before her was a collection of well-used fashion magazines. "You look well, love your dress. Bit longer than I liked, but it suits you." "Thanks." "You look settled." "Aye, well. I did me best." "I knew you'd be alright. From your flat, your stuff. All so organised." "Aye, well. I like everything in its place." "Only we're not, are we? In our places." She never made eye contact with me during that exchange, watching some garden birds hopping about round the base of a near empty bird feeder outside. "What have you come for, Evan?" Tears prickled my eyes again. The first time that name had been used towards me in a year. "Nobody else has come. Everyone hates us. Even me mam, me sister, all me mates - everyone." "Kirsty..." I started, but had nothing to follow it with. "You should have moved in with us. Looked after us. It's all your fault, all of it. Don't know how, don't know why, but you did this." She spoke in a monotone, whatever drugs they had her on smoothing any anger, hurt or inflection from the accusations, but they hurt nonetheless. Like my drunken wish could be held responsible or even be counted as reckless for not seeing this chain of events. "I was angry too. I didn't know what else to do, but I couldn't stay here. I couldn't keep looking at you every day and wishing nothing had changed." "I'm going to be a woman again. Started taking hormones." "That's good." "Only nobody'll really know what a woman I really am. Only you. I hate being a man, hate it. You don't seem to mind being me though. Didn't you ever want to be a man again?" "I weighed it all up and couldn't see how I would make it work. To be honest, I'm as happy now as I was." She leant forward and for the first time I saw a flicker of interest in her flat eyes. "Have you found somebody, Evan? Have you?" I thought for a moment; Olivia's lovely, asymmetric grin came to mind. "Aye, I have. Got a nice flat, a cat, good job." "That's canny," she said, looking through the window again. A silence grew uncomfortable between us. "Why have you come?" "I heard what happened. I was worried." "You felt sorry for us?" Why had I come? This was pointless, the whole trip North - the fight with Olivia, her messages I hadn't been able to answer. Why? Obligation? Some vestige of responsibility I bore for this mess? "You can't keep looking back." "What is there to look forward to?" "I don't know! But it isn't here. It isn't at your Mam's. It isn't with Kirsty Connor or Evan Clark; they've gone. It's for you to find something." The speech left me deflated. I sank back into my chair and looked at my watch. It was getting towards lunchtime, I was feeling sick and hungry at the same time. Kirsty stared out of the window. "I'm feeling a bit tired now." She made a helpless gesture. "The drugs, you know. Anti-depressants." "Think about what I said." I stood to leave, smoothing my dress, when Kirsty turned and looked up at me. "Will you come again tomorrow?" "Really?" "Aye. I'd like it. Wear something pretty. Please." My wardrobe was not bursting with pretty things, by any stretch of the imagination, and I had only travelled with spare underwear and toiletries. Kirsty shrugged when I plucked at the hem of my plain dress and confessed it was all I had. "Being a pretty girl was all I had, all I knew how to do. Pathetic really." Near the Metro station I found a neat cafe and ate a tuna sandwich I hardly tasted and stared at the people around me, inside and out, while my coffee went too cold to drink. The blank, dead, dark screen of my switched off phone stared accusingly at me while I couldn't face the thought of counting Olivia's unread messages. Then it was onto the Metro again, clattering along until I stepped off at Tynemouth and navigated my way to the ordinary terrace Deb had given me directions to. The front door was a glossy, cheerful red which didn't touch my spirits at all. I knocked once, very quietly, light on my feet - ready to turn tail and run all the way back to the city centre. No answer. Thank god. I was turning away when a face appeared around the net curtains in the window by the door. I'd only seen it a couple of times, but it was familiar with its similarity to the one I was wearing. Muffled shouting came through the door and I made myself still - if I ran now I was sure she'd come after me. Locks clicked, a chain rattled and then a wrinkled, shrunken face was peering around the woodwork, split into a wide, delighted grin quickly obscured by bony fists. "Tracy, Tracy! It's our Kirsty, she's come back!" Before I could move or say anything I was wrapped in a scrawny hug while Tracy acidly commented that she knew it was Kirsty "cos she'd seen her at the bloody window and told you she was here you daft woman. "It's our Kirsty!" "Hello," I managed eventually. The whole street must have heard Kirsty was back, I looked around nervously, but all the doors I could see were closed. "How are you, pet? Oh, you look grand, real classy. Come on in, come inside." She might have looked like skin and bone wrapped in jeans and a loose pullover, but she was strong with it and practically bundled me into a narrow hallway which smelt of pee and air freshener. Led into the living room, overlooking the street, I found the source of the smell kicking her feet in the air while Tracy attended to her nappy. Despite the indignity the baby gurgled contentedly and sent a gummy grin the way of her Nanna. "Why is she here?" Tracy asked the baby. "Don't mind her, lass. Sit down, sit yourself. Look, Kayzia, here's your Auntie Kirsty come to see you." Beyond Kayzia and Tracy was room was over full with a vast television, faded over-floral chairs, a small sofa and a dark-stained dresser crowded with ugly ceramic figurines. Twee fairies mixed with glossy shepherdesses, ponies, crocodiles, gnomes, ladybirds and everything in between. The only reading material I could see was a TV Guide with a pouting soap star on the cover. I sat, hiding behind my hand bag while the older woman fussed and talked at me, Tracy glowered and Kayzia sucked on her fists. "Why has she come now?" Tracy asked the television. I took a deep breath. "I wanted you to know I was okay." "I don't give a shit!" "Tracy, love! Not in front of the bairn." "Well! What does she expect? Leaves us all alone up here, not a word! Not a bloody word, Mam! Then waltzes up like the Queen of bloody Sheba to tell us she's okay!" "I should go." I was already standing, knuckles white around my handbag's strap. Tracy turned back to the baby. Her mam looked horrified. "You mustn't, love. Please don't. Tracy doesn't mean anything, do you, love? Here, I'll put the kettle on. We'll all have a cup of tea. How's that?" "I'll do it," Tracy said. She glared at me. "You, sit." I sat. There was a room in a city centre Premier Inn waiting for me this evening, a seat on a train back to Lincoln tomorrow afternoon. In between, with the way I was feeling, I may as well be here feeling miserable as anywhere else in Northumbria. Kirsty's mam told me about Kayzia and Tracy, the man who had made her pregnant and then run away to gas rigs and their life together in the little house. Tracy came back in with mugs of dark tea and mine was sugary because she'd remembered how I liked it. I drank it and concealed my distaste. "Have you remembered any more, love?" The lie tasted worse than the tea, even though I was well used to it now. "Nothing else. Just a blank before I woke up in the ambulance." Tracy looked sceptical, who could blame her. Even the surgeons and psychiatrists had been bemused my my memory loss. "Aye, well these things take time." I was offered the baby and took her gingerly, as though I might break her. She seemed content at least and grinned at me, sucked my fingers and kicked happily. I let them take a picture of us together, and at their suggestion I switched on my phone and they took pictures of me and Kayzia with it. Kirsty's Mam coo'd at the sight of us together and even Tracy's flinty expression softened. I've never been comfortable with children - Kayzia didn't change that; my body clearly didn't recognise the blood bond and didn't have some maternal switch flicked on. The notion of being pregnant, which came to mind at something Kirsty's Mam said about me being a natural with the baby, left me cold. For the first minute or so after it was switched on my phone beeped and beeped as it picked up messages. "Somebody's missing you, love." I dropped the phone into my handbag with a tight nod, not wanting to bring Olivia into this place, into this life. "I'll phone her later." "Her?" That was Tracy, scorn written into the curves of her lips. "I should go." I offered the baby, but neither of them were keen to take it from me. "Sorry," said Tracy. She forced a quick, brittle smile. "I suppose we've both seen the worst of men, in different ways. Don't blame you really." "All of us," said Kirsty's Mam. "Your Dad ran off with a with some bit- titted bitch from Carlisle right after you were born, Tracy love." Perhaps that genie had been male too? We sat quietly for a moment, some womanly spider-silk of shared experience binding us. "I'll make some more tea," said Kirsty's Mam, I think she was uncomfortable with too much quiet. Maybe it gave her too much time to think. "I don't blame you for going," said Tracy quietly. "After what happened." "I didn't know what else to do." "Will you do something for us though?" "What?" "Will you call her Mam? She's not a bad one, I know you fought with her - so did I - but she's been good to us, since Kayzia, and your..." "I was raped. Don't be afraid to say it in front of us." "Really messed her up. And then when that fucking Evan creature turned up hammering on the door a couple of weeks back! It would mean a lot to her, calling her Mam." "He's... She's messed up too. Nobody came out of it well." She shrugged. "Are you really a lezza? Sorry, not a good word that. Lesbian." I shrugged back. "Men do nothing for me." I held her eye. "I've always been a lesbian. Just covered it up." "With shit men!" "There'll be no more like him for me." "That's good then. Let's see a photo of her?" So there she was, Olivia - wonky and beautiful as she grinned at me from out of my phone. It was one of my favourite pictures, where she'd been at the top of Jacob's Ladder in Edale. The wind was whipping her hair away like jet spindrift and she was fighting with one hand to keep it from her grin. "Here, look, Mam. Here's Kirsty's lass." "She's lovely, real pretty." More silence. I put away the phone. Kazia grumbled so I bounced her and she giggled. "She likes you," said Tracy. "You'll come and see us again, Kirsty?" said Kirsty's Mam and the pleading in her eyes was so raw I touched her hand. "I will. Mam." Another lie? I couldn't remember the woman who'd been my mother. Such a weighty title to give, but the effect was immediate. She sat up taller and beamed her few teeth at me. "I'll come again." "I won't push you, love. When you're ready." My throat closed up. I closed my eyes tight against tears. Ready for what? "I'll never be the woman you knew," I said after a moment. "That doesn't matter, Kirsty love. You'll always be my daughter. No matter what." Daughter, Aunt, Woman, Lesbian? All these words that came with me now. Not Kirsty I looked at the worn carpet. "I don't call myself Kirsty anymore. I'm Emma." "Emma?" they said in turn. "Not very exciting," said Tracy. "I didn't want excitement. I needed..." "I know love. Emma is right pretty." She touched my hand again. Before I left she wrote her mobile number on a post-it and pressed it into my hand. I promised I'd be in touch, promised I'd come back and shook my head when Tracy offered herself and Kayzia to keep me company on the way to the Metro station. I had a family again, but I wasn't sure what to do with them or what they meant to me. On the train I refused to look at anybody, stared resolutely out of the window. Evan, Kirsty, Mam, Tracy, Olivia - their faces whirled through my mind and I couldn't anchor myself to any of them. My phone beeped twice - poor Olivia. Why was I punishing her? Spotting a big Tesco store over the road from the Premier Inn, I headed in there, intending to get myself some bottled water and maybe a magazine for the evening ahead when biology had me diverting into the lady's loo. Sight of blood spots in my knickers confirmed why my boobs had been aching the last couple of days and I rummaged in my handbag for an emergency tampon. Without trivialising the whole ridiculous, over-taxed imposition that is menstruation in the developed world, I'm quite good at it. While I was sitting in that supermarket toilet cubicle, my dress secured by one arm, tights and spotted panties pushed down, legs spread looking smugly at a job well done, evidence by the fine string dangling from my vagina, a revelation rushed me. "I'm a woman." When a scratched, old woman's voice asked if I was alright I realised I'd spoken aloud. But I kept quiet and looked at myself and a little voice in the back of my head told me how I was going to grow old in this body - how I'd be watching wrinkles form and boobs sag, feeling my bones growing brittle and the menopause driving hot flushes through me. It told me I was going to be running the risk of breast, ovarian and cervical cancer. It suggested I might feel a little sad when men stop looking at me in that way. But it was all okay, because when the voice fell silent I remembered that I inspired the love of a funny, quirky, clever and beautiful detective and I could fall in love with her a little more every day of my life. I was a woman. I would always be a woman and if gaps in my back story came to light, who would believe it anyway? I could be happy. Evan, Olivia, Tracy, Kayzia, Kirsty's Mam, Emma - we were all women in our own ways. I was a woman. Not by choice, but by fate or magic or whatever; and by acceptance. I was good at it; I hardly ever ripped my tights, I could put on lipstick successfully in a moving train, haughtily ignore casual misogynists, carry out routine tasks in the kind of restrictive clothing and impractical shoes that would have men crying foul. I could manage unruly curly hair and fasten the back zip of a fitted dress without dislocating my shoulder. I was me. All me. Olivia picked up my call after the first ring. It was the best part of a minute before I could get a word in such was the flow of her helloes, her concern, her love and worry. "It's been shit. And positive. And everything in between. My period started, I'm an Aunt and the guy who phoned my rapist to tell him where I was is a woman now and his hair looks cuter than mine." "I went for a run and did our washing." I could picture her face as she said that and I laughed out loud. Laughing felt so good. "Are you coming home tomorrow?" "I'm coming home tomorrow." "Olivia?" "Emma." "Olivia de Souza?" "I'm here." "Would Olivia de Souza please return to her office?" She laughed and I smiled to hear her do it. "I love you. I'm coming home to you." I slept that well that night. After a couple of beers in the hotel bar I went upstairs to my room, showered and watched a movie wrapped in Olivia's dressing gown. I had thought about having a walk around the old places, maybe a beer in one or two of them, but then decided it probably wasn't a good idea. There was the specific issue of being recognised and the general maybe about being a lone female in big city. I got myself up early though, packed and breakfasted then got a train to Hexham and spent a couple of hours going around some of the places I'd known when I was a lad. That might have ended up being a bit melancholy, but after my light-bulb moment in the Tesco toilet I enjoyed walking my childhood's lanes again. At about nine, when I was sure Olivia would be at her desk, I phoned her from a sunny bench in the Abbey grounds and told her how much I loved her, how I wanted her to be with me. We talked about walking The Wall together, kayaking down the Tyne; she even threatened to take me pony-trekking before work intruded and she had to go. Feeling light, carefree and full of sunshine I went to the shops, had a coffee in Waterstones while I giftwrapped some parcels and then caught a train back to Newcastle. When a nurse took me to see Kirsty again I was wearing new shoes. I hadn't really known what Kirsty might mean by wearing something pretty, and nothing in the Hexham branch of Next had taken my fancy, but I had seen a pair of shoes I liked. They were nothing special, just black suede court shoes, tapered 4" heel, almond toe and instead of a strap to make them Mary Janes they had a ribbon. Kind of pretty in an understated way. I tried them on, then on an impulse had a bit of an off-the-wall conversation with the assistant about buying a second pair for a bloke with size 7 feet. "Really?" she said. "She's going through a bad time," I explained. "They'll cheer her up. Honest." "Ah, I see. That's really sweet of you," she said when I was paying for both pairs of shoes, a pair of sheer, nude tights, some satin pyjamas and a flowing tunic I imagined might suit Kirsty. "She must be somebody special." I suppose she was, in a very unique way. As custodian of my old body, whatever she planned to do with it, I wanted her to be happy. Kirsty cried a little when I gave her the presents. I'd added a bunch of flowers and some chocolates - girly gifts. "Thank you. Don't know what else to say." She tried on the shoes, with a little smile and they fit her fine. Afterwards we walked together through the grounds of the hospital, our heels tapping companionably on the concrete paths. "Don't keep looking back," I pressed. "Get away from here, from Newcastle. Go somewhere where every street corner doesn't remind of you of what you were." "Is that what you did?" I didn't tell her I'd spent a contented time in my old town, but I'd turned a corner. I think she had a little way to go before she got to hers. And her transgendered path was going to be rockier than mine. "I can't keep Kirsty, can I?" she said, when we paused for a rest on a bench. "Best not to." "I'll need a new name. To go with Clark. Any ideas?" "What was your Nanna called?" "Is that where Emma came from? I've got a Caroline or a Jeanette." "Caroline, every day of the week. Jeanette - yuck! She wasn't your favourite was she?" "Caroline Clark then." And that was another couple of steps towards that corner. On question which had been playing on my mind since I'd decided to come back up North was Lola, my sister's step-daughter - the one I'd used up a wish on. Kirsty had already told me that Tricia had cut him dead, after the rape, but to hear that Lola was cancer free, in full remission was good news. Obviously I couldn't say why I was so interested, but at least the genie had made good on one wish. Before I left, time was running away for my train, she gave me a hug, kissed my cheek briefly and thanked me again. I didn't know whether I'd done any good. Based on the state of her life when I took it on the odds weren't good, but people changed, didn't they? I gave her my mobile number and promised we'd keep in touch, wished her luck and then I was hurrying as best I could in my new heels for the Metro to Newcastle Station. I knew it was all going to be alright when I saw Olivia at Lincoln station. She was waiting right at the end of the platform and sight of her, hunting through the train windows for me brought me a big, sparkling grin. The delight shining from her when she spotted me, the sight of her running along the platform beside the slowing train made me laugh then cry a little then laugh some more. By the time she'd finished squeezing me, whirling me around in a tight embrace, saying my name and telling me how much she loved and had missed me, the other passengers had all filtered through the ticket barriers and the train had gone. "Is it done?" she asked, her arm was around me keeping me close, she carried my bag and had already claimed my shoes for work on Monday. "It's done." "And the ghosts?" "Are all friendly ghosts now. I visited Evan, she's called Caroline now. I have a Mam, a sister and a niece. I'm an Aunt!" "Marry me!" I stumbled to a stop. Her eyes were shining, cheeks flushed, lips parted. I kissed them. A car horn beeped, made me jump - we were in the middle of the car park! We waved and giggled and moved. "Marry me!? ?It?s only been a few months, I haven?t met your parents and we haven?t lived together and-? "Don?t be so conventional! I don?t want to lose you, I don?t want to feel like I did yesterday when I thought I might never see you again. Mum will love you, Dad won?t understand you accent and I can be packed in moved into your flat by the close of play on Friday.? ?I?ll have to ask Clint.? "I already did, when I fed him last night. He doesn?t care.? It all sounded so simple when pouring breathlessly from your girlfriend who was so excited she could hardly stand still. And maybe it was that simple. Turn your back on the past, because it?s not scary any more, secret yes - scary no, and hold out your hand to the future. Marry Olivia? Be a lesbian bride? It wasn?t the weirdest thing that had happened to me, that was going to take some beating, but it would be the loveliest. To celebrate our engagement we had a slow dance to soft music only we could hear, right there in the station car park.