In the Eye of the Storm

12. The Female Man who is a Woman

Clothes. That's what was in the suitcases. Clothes, clothes, and more clothes. And not just any kind of clothes. Ladies' clothes. And not just any kind of ladies' clothes, either, but the kind of ladies' clothes any girl would sell her soul for.

Any girl except me, of course! I'm totally immune to such things, being a feminist and all. I would never sell my soul for something as shallow as piece of oppressive fashion dictated to us by chauvinistic men!

Though, looking at those glamorous garments, I might decide to sell someone else's soul, if I could get away with it. Not the soul of someone I really liked, of course, like my little sister Ella. But I wouldn't really have minded handing my aunt over to the devil to get my hands on one of those dresses. If only...

Only then did it come to me:

These clothes were in my suitcases.

Well, not exactly my suitcases, since they had come from Mr Ambrose, but he had put them into my cabin. Did that mean...?

'Well?' I heard his cool voice coming from right beside me, and yet, somehow, from very far away. 'What do you think?'

Oh my God, oh my God, yes, it did mean what I thought it did! Yes! Yes! But... how? Where? When? And most importantly, why?

'I don't understand,' I said slowly, not quite ready to believe it yet. 'Why is there a case full of ladies' clothes in my cabin?'

'Not just clothes, Mr Linton.' Taking down another, smaller, case from the pile, Mr Ambrose opened it. My eyes nearly popped out of my head as the lid lifted and revealed a dazzling array of jewellery in all sizes, shapes and colours. Pearls, diamonds, sapphires and rubies mounted on rings, set in necklaces of gold and silver. I stared at Mr Ambrose, wondering whether this really was the same man I knew. Maybe it wasn't really him at all, but his generous twin brother. 'A-are you feeling all right, Mr Ambrose?'

'Of course! And if I let you touch those,' he said, gesturing to the jewels, 'be careful. They're only on loan. If one is damaged, you'll work the debt off till kingdom come.'

Thank God! Thank God, he's still himself!

Which left the question of what the heck was happening here. I watched in amazement as Mr Ambrose opened more suitcases, revealing handbags, fans, make-up, hand mirrors, parasols – everything a lady of high society could wish for to go out in style. But what I found most astounding were the clothes – girls' clothes!

'Do I understand you correctly?' My voice was weak. This had come as rather a shock. For weeks and weeks there had been tension crackling between Mr Ambrose and me because he did not want a female employee and had forced me to come to work dressed up as a man. And now this? I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't. 'These clothes are for me? When we arrive in Egypt, you want me to put them on?'

He nodded.

'You can put them on now, if you wish, Mr Linton. You'll have to, eventually, along with some of the rings and necklaces. But I would advise you to wait until we have reached coastal waters. The sea wind can be rather draughty in a skirt.'

Under normal circumstances, I'd have wondered how Mr Ambrose would ever know anything about how draughty a skirt was. But right then and there, I didn't care a penny. I was in shock – stunned by the sudden prospect of my approaching sex change. He would have to call me Miss! He couldn't call me 'Mr Linton' once I was in a dress, could he?

Don't bet on it, said a nasty little voice in my head, but I ignored it.

'You are serious? This isn't some stupid joke?'