December 9th

He woke up, and spent a few seconds wondering how much of what he had remembered had been dream, and how much reality. Finally, shaking his head, he got out of bed and pulled the curtains. The snow swept past, blown by a strong wind from the west. Putting his moccasins on, he had got halfway through the door before he realised how quiet the cottage was. Padding down to the parlour, he discovered that Shelagh had not yet started breakfast.

He checked the bathroom, then walked quietly down to her bedroom. The door was partly open, and through it he could see her asleep in her bed, the covers disturbed. It occurred to Colin that he had never seen Shelagh asleep, or even in bed. In the mornings, she had always been awake before him, and she went to bed after he did every evening, so he watched her sleeping for a short while before padding quietly away.

After a bathroom stop, he decided to start breakfast. Although they now had the bacon and eggs option, he realised that his hands probably couldn't handle making that kind of meal yet, so he got out the pot and started making porridge. The only problem he faced was turning the water tap on, but a little ingenuity solved that. The porridge was very nearly ready, and he was wondering if he should wake her, when he heard her flushing the toilet in the bathroom. She entered the parlour.

"Good morning, Shelagh," Colin said quietly.

She stood inside the door, her face troubled. "Did you not want me?" she asked.

If I answer that truthfully, I might as well go and jump in the loch and have done with it, thought Colin.

"That's not a question you ought to be asking, or I answering, just at the moment," Colin said, firmly. "Come, porridge is ready, sit and eat. I want some food inside of you before we discuss any other subjects at all."

Mutely she sat at the table, and watched him awkwardly pour the porridge with gloved hands into the bowls. Breakfast was eaten in near silence. Shelagh had to fill the kettle, but Colin completed the tea-making process, and they sat facing one another across the table, mugs of tea ready. Colin reached across the table and held her hand.

"Firstly," Colin began, "you did an incredibly brave thing last night, but you were taking a big risk. You were also putting me under considerable pressure. I could have taken advantage of you in your disturbed emotional state, and that would have reinforced all your bad ideas about men. Alternatively, it's possible your current stereotype of men makes you think you have to make a sacrifice in return for help. I'm still a guest in your house, and I don't want to jeopardise the relationship we have by doing something we might both regret. I will not take advantage of you. Understand?"

Shelagh nodded.

"If you want to do something like that, it has to be on your own terms. You have to be of sound mind, and understand the consequences of your actions - for both of us. You're supposed to be an independent, self-assured modern woman in control of your own destiny. You have to be aware of what you want, or need, for yourself. In fact, need, want, would like, could all mean different things in this context. But be sure you understand what it is you do, Shelagh Fraser, and why you do it. The last time you tripped up was no fault of your own, the next time you might end up having to blame yourself as well."

She raised her eyes to look full into his. The grip on his hand tightened, then she remembered the damage and forced herself to slacken off.

"What do you want, Colin?" she asked.

Until the very moment that she had asked that question, Colin hadn't even considered the subject. Now, with the asking, he realised exactly what he wanted, and he also realised that he daren't say a word until Shelagh's outstanding problems had been, if not solved, at least made manageable. He managed to keep his expression bland as he replied, "What I want is not important at the moment. I remind you that I am your guest, and at the moment the welfare of my host is my main concern."

He released her hand, and stood, holding his mug. Normally, they would have gone and got dressed at this point in the day, but there were serious matters to discuss and delay didn't seem such a good idea. He walked over to the settee, and put his mug down on one of the small tables. She came and put her mug on the other table, and they both sat together on the settee.

"Tell me the rest of it," he instructed. She knew that he wouldn't allow her to prevaricate for any length of time.

"A man and his dog found me," she began. "He thought it was just a pile of rags by the side of the path, and then he saw my legs sticking out. They'd left me for dead. The ambulance crew recognised the nurse's uniform, which was under my coat, but didn't know who it was. In fact they didn't find out who I was till the following day, since I had no ID. The Casualty crew were absolutely horrified when they discovered who I was. I was in intensive care for a week, then on the wards for three months." She had started to look drawn, and her hand reached out for, and received, his hand. "You're right, it was big news for a week. A nurse, gang-raped at night, in a relatively quiet area of Oxford. It caused a lot of trouble. I missed most of that, though. The police did come and take a statement, but I couldn't give them much as it was dark and it all happened so suddenly. I had tried to defend myself, but one young woman against three fit young men was no contest."

She looked at Colin. "I wanted to go back to my job when I was discharged. I lasted two days. I just couldn't face being near men of any sort. I was sent home on sick leave. Then they got a DNA match against a young man who'd been pulled up for theft. The interest built up again and I had to hide. That was the first time I came up to the cottage to live, Nan was still living here then."

She took a sip of her tea. "I stayed here for a while, and also spent some time with Dad, who was living near Aldershot at the time. Then the trial of this person came up, and I had to go to Oxford to give evidence."

"From behind a screen?" Colin asked.

"No, by video link, as it happened. But the trial collapsed since the DNA evidence was inadmissible."

"How did that happen? I thought that kind of evidence was reasonably secure these days."

"Normally it is. How's your biology? Each sperm contains half of the DNA of the male it comes from, that's a random half. Normally, for a single man who does a rape, they grind the sample all up, and from that mess they can recover the whole DNA pattern of the man who provided the sperm. There was a mixture of sperm from three men found in me. There are certain ways they can tell how many, I'm not sure of the exact details. But because this was a mixture, it's not currently possible to say exactly which parts belonged to which provider, so the evidence was thrown out. As it stands, the man isn't innocent, and he isn't guilty, even though he's probably guilty. There's just not enough evidence to convict."

"I'm beginning to see," said Colin, "That's the point you got angry."

"Oh, yes! I thought the whole thing had been a conspiracy against women. Or at the very least, that the men running the system were incompetent. I got contacted by some radical feminists, and joined a collective. I suppose it took my mind off those dreadful events, but, thinking about it, it probably wasn't one of my brightest ideas. Any way, the rest is history."

"As a matter of interest, what happened to your nursing qualification? Did you miss out on that?"

"Actually, no. Because it was so near to the end of the course, and because I had such high grades, they qualified me second best in my year. But the awards were handed out while I was in the hospital. The Dean of the college brought mine in and they awarded it at my bedside. It's a shame, really, all that work, and then I end up not using any of the training at all."

"Until I appeared, that is."

"That is true," she admitted. "It took me four days to stop having panic attacks whenever I saw you, though. I hadn't realised how bad it had become. It was only the training that got me through it, and eventually I got used to you and things calmed down."

"You realise now that you have a problem, then?" Colin asked her.

"I do now. It's amazing how someone can be so blind to what's going on. If you hadn't come along when you did, I'd have probably just got worse as time went on, and probably ended up in a funny farm."

"Good. Identifying that there is a problem is the first step to doing something about it. What to do about it is another matter. I'm not a therapist by any stretch of the imagination, and you're going to have to do most of the hard work yourself. But I shall be here to give you all and any support you need. We have plenty of time, so you can do what needs to be done at the pace that suits you best."

"But I don't know what to do," she said, "have you any ideas?"

"Not really. Suggestions only, from me, I don't ever want you to be able to say I manipulated you into anything. My personal opinion, I think we should carry on much as before, and just see what happens. You've got past the blockage now, I hope, and that should make things so much easier. What say you we go and get dressed? Parts of me are beginning to feel a little cold, and we ought to get these bandages off."

Colin stood up, and took his mug and placed it in the sink, Shelagh following him. At the door to the parlour, he turned and said, "Whatever I've said so far, I want to make it clear that if you need them, hugs and cuddles are unconditionally available twenty-four hours a day."

The speed with which she clamped herself around him surprised both of them.

"Oof!"

"Sorry!" she said guiltily, easing her grip on his middle, but not letting go, "But you did say..."

"I meant it, too!" Colin replied. "It seems that you are rediscovering the joys of physical contact," he added quietly, "you have been in a bad way." He wrapped his arms round her.

"You're right, again," she murmured, her head on his chest, "it's been a long while."

"It's quite pleasant from where I'm standing, too," he said, "but we really ought to get dressed. You can have another go later if you wish."

She looked up at him, suspicious. "Are you humouring me?"

"Would I do a thing like that?" he asked, straight-faced.

She paid his face more attention than usual while shaving him, looking closely at his skin.

"I think you'll have to put some of that cream on your face, as well and your hands and legs," she commented, "parts of it are peeling. Your nose, cheeks, forehead, and the edge of your left ear are definitely peeling."

She ran a finger across his eyebrow ridges.

"Funny," she said, "there's no sign of your eyebrows growing back. All the rest seems to be functional, but there's no sign of anything up here. You're going to look a bit odd if you've got no eyebrows."

"That's okay," he replied, "There's plenty of time before I have to worry about that."

With his legs washed and moisturised, Shelagh led Colin down to the big bedroom.

"What are you going to dress me in today?" he asked. Although as a man he had never been that bothered with his attire, apart from looking tidy and keeping warm, he was beginning to look forward to the possibility of something new and interesting to wear, in the same way a child looks forward to Christmas or birthday presents. His encounter with the dress the previous day had triggered off all kinds of feelings and emotions inside him that he wanted to explore further.

"There's one thing more you can try," she replied as she pulled open the wardrobe door, "I really don't have a huge selection, I'm sorry to say. When I started living out here, there didn't seem to be much point."

"Since I'm unlikely to be seen by anyone else while I'm here, I'll try anything you have to offer," he said. "I'm not out to impress other women - or men, for that matter - so style is not important."

"Maybe," Shelagh said, "but we have ourselves to satisfy. What do you think about this one?"

She held up a simple denim shift dress.

"It's a bit... "

"Short? Yes, but you did ask. I normally wear a shirt or jumper under it. If you wear it, you may find it a bit draughty down below, especially as you're taller."

"Let's find a jumper, then."

She found him a thick red jumper, cable knit, with big shoulders and sleeves he could just squeeze into. Colin decided he liked tops with big or puffy sleeves because they disguised his own shoulders and made the proportions of the clothing look right. She pulled down the long back zip of the dress.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, "Don't I need a bra?"

"You want to wear a bra all the time, now, do you?" Shelagh rolled her eyes. "Yet more washing!" But she went to the drawer and found the other of the two older bras, fitted it round his chest and padded it. The full slip came next, followed by the jumper, and then he stepped into the dress, put his arms in the sleeve-holes, and she pulled up the long back zip.

"Is that it? How on earth can you walk round in something like this without getting arrested?"

She grinned knowingly at him. "This is quite modest, actually. I've seen shorter styles in Aberdeen, but I'm not sure I'd want to be seen wearing many of them. I bought this a while ago, while I was living in Edinburgh. It's not really a winter style, as you can work out for yourself, but as you're going to have to stay near the stove, you should be all right."

"God! I shall never look at a woman in a short dress or skirt the same way again," he muttered as he walked back to the parlour, conscious that his bottom was only inches away from the hem. When he sat down on the settee, he discovered that the dress did not cover his bottom at all while sitting down, and that practically everything would be visible to a person seated in front of him. He immediately resolved to keep his legs crossed while seated.

When Shelagh entered the parlour shortly afterwards, Colin had another surprise, for she was wearing the Fraser tartan skirt, with one of her better jumpers. She smiled shyly at him.

"I thought I had better make the effort to show you I do have legs, and I do wear things other than jeans," she said. Quite what impulse had made her decide to wear those things, she would never know, but she could see the effect they had on Colin. She had also taken more time with her hair, so that it flowed smoothly down her back.

"Uh," Colin tried to think, "you look great in that. You're always going to look better in these clothes than I ever would."

"Don't sell yourself short," she replied, "With a bit of cleaning up, and some attention to hair and makeup, I think you could carry off the female look in public one day. But I'm no expert, it's possible you may not be able to behave exactly as a woman would. Might be worth a try some day, though."

"I'm not so sure I want to go that far. I find these things, with the possible exception of this dress, comfortable, which is why I'm wearing them. There are also... sensations... that I'm having a hard time figuring out. Anything else can wait."

"How do you find the dress, so far?"

"I tell you what, if we were in mixed company I would feel quite insecure," Colin replied feelingly, "I suppose you get used to making sure you hide everything, but it sure doesn't feel natural. Another thing, it seems to change the proportions of one's body. Walking down the hall before I felt like a lollipop on a stick."

"Of course, you would normally be wearing a pair of fairly dense tights," she explained, "which makes life a little easier. But I certainly understand what you mean. Now, I have washing to do, so if you'll excuse me?"

After Shelagh went out Colin stood by the big window and looked at the snow banked against it. The drift came halfway up his thigh. He looked down at his legs and realised that the hem of the dress was still lower than the legs of his shorts. Because this dress did not have a waist he had a curious sense of freedom, and that his body centre had moved higher up somehow.

By the time lunch came Colin was thoroughly frustrated by his inability to do anything, as Shelagh had predicted. He didn't want to read, and spent the time walking up and down the hall, conscious of the draught flowing between his legs as he did so. Shelagh began to get irritated by the continual movement, but she had seen enough other patients with similar circumstances to understand what he was going through.

Lunch came, and with it further problems. Colin discovered that the hardening skin on his fingers made his grip problematic, whether or not he wore the gloves. Eventually, a full spoon shifted at the wrong time and he ended up with hot soup in his lap.

"Shit! Ow!" He stood up so quickly that his chair fell over. He had stained the bottom of the dress, and some of the hot soup had also gone onto his bare thighs. Shelagh quickly stood, run the tea-towel under the cold tap, and begun dabbing his legs and the dress. "Thanks! Sorry about the dress."

She dismissed his concern. "Things happen. I'm more concerned about your legs. As if you haven't got enough burns already, you have to go and scald yourself. That skin must be pretty sensitive."

"I suppose it is. You want to take the dress off? Get some water on the mark?"

"Yes, I can dip the edge in some water in the bath. Fortunately, denim is very forgiving, so if I leave it a bit, I should be able to just wring it out and hang it up to dry. Come along to the bedroom, you'll have to find something else to wear."

"That denim skirt I wore day before yesterday will do fine," Colin suggested.

Clothing changed, they resumed the interrupted meal, Colin paying closer attention to his feeding methods.

"Hmm," Shelagh mused, "Perhaps a pinny won't be such a bad idea. Especially with Christmas coming. If you can manage that with soup, heaven knows what you might do with a full Christmas dinner." But there was a smile on her face.

After the morning's exposure, Colin felt comfortable in the denim skirt he had previously considered short. Slightly rattled by the soup incident, he spent the afternoon quietly reading while Shelagh cleaned off the dress and hung it to dry, then carried on with her normal routine. Dinner that evening involved fresh vegetables, with orange segments to follow.

When she came to help him into the nightdress after bathing him, she frowned.

"I may have to get out the sewing machine," she said, "You've stretched my collection of nightdresses to the limit. I may have allowed enough food for a three-month siege out here, but my clothing stock was never intended to supply two people, nor some of my housekeeping supplies. I'd better do an inventory tomorrow morning."

"It's a shame I can't help," he replied. "Obviously, I hadn't intended this to happen, but I can't even do any of your domestic jobs yet, to free up your time for some of the other things that need doing."

"That's all right," she grinned, "Just you wait till your hands heal up! I've got a long list of things for you to have a go at."

Colin fell asleep, and was soon involved in a dream which involved him walking down Edinburgh's Royal Mile hand in hand with Shelagh. The problem was, both of them were wearing sun hats, summer dresses and sandals, and carrying bags of shopping.

He was abruptly woken after about an hour by her cries. He listened for a few moments, but the cries continued, so he reluctantly climbed out of bed and crept into her bedroom, feeling his way by touch in the near pitch darkness. There was a tiny amount of light from the moon, reflected off the snow, that showed him enough of what was happening. She was thrashing about in her bed, her face strained, her eyes closed, her legs wide open. She was apparently reliving the attack.

"Shelagh," he said, quietly. When she did not respond, he placed a hand on hers, but she batted it away violently. "Shelagh!" he said, more loudly, "Wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

She paused in her wild movements, as if she had heard him.

"Shelagh! Wake up! It's... Lynne. You're safe now, it's all over." This time, when he touched her hand, she clasped it and pulled him down towards her.

"Don't leave me!" she gasped. "Don't go."

Colin hesitated. Her climbing into his bed was one thing, him climbing into hers was entirely another. Finally, he mentally shrugged and climbed in beside her. She promptly pulled him close and began weeping. Eventually she drifted off to sleep, and Colin, constrained by her arms, followed shortly afterwards.

*****

December 10th

Colin woke with a headache. His neck ached from being twisted at a strange angle, his right arm was completely numb, a heavy weight on his chest prevented him breathing properly, and parts of him were hot and sweaty. He moved his head gingerly, and then realised why he wasn't comfortable. Shelagh was partially on top of him, asleep. He remembered the previous night, and where he was, and woke completely. Oh, God, it gets worse. I can't go on doing this, I have to get her to understand the consequences. That might break her, if I'm not careful. Oh, God. He moved his free arm and gently shook her uppermost shoulder.

"Shelagh! Time to wake up."

She roused, and partially lifted her upper body. Colin's right arm promptly caught fire from the restarted circulation. She looked at him blankly, through the fringe of her cascading hair.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, unsteadily. Her eyelids snapped open as she realised where they were. "What happened?"

"You were screaming in the night, having a nightmare. I think you were apparently reliving the attack," he replied. "Don't you remember anything of it?"

"No," she answered, sinking back down. Colin gave a yelp as her body started crushing his throbbing arm. Startled, she realised what she was doing and raised herself up to sitting.

"Why did you get in? Was I that bad?"

"You have a pretty persuasive grip, even when you're asleep. I didn't have much of a choice in the matter." Colin yawned. "Perhaps we'd better be getting up before you damage any more of my body parts."

The two climbed unsteadily out of the bed. Shelagh pulled the curtains nearest to her to show white snow, but none falling. It was just after dawn. Colin sat on the edge of her bed, gradually coming to. The pain in his arm had subsided to excruciating pins and needles.

"After you in the bathroom," he said. Shelagh nodded and walked unsteadily out of the room. Colin tried to marshal his arguments, but his brain was too fogged. He decided to leave things till after breakfast. Porridge - or bacon and eggs! - plus tea would make a whole lot of difference to his brain power.

Bacon and eggs it turned out to be, but Colin could not yet handle a knife and fork sufficiently to eat it on his own, so he had to let her cut it up for him. No embarrassment now, the two had got sufficiently used to his limitations for neither to be bothered by them any more.

"Shelagh, come and sit down," he said, when she had put the plates in the sink afterwards.

"You're going to talk to me again," she said, "I thought it was women who were supposed to nag."

Colin took a deep breath. "Yes, but this time it is important. So important, that if we can't resolve the problem, I'm going to have to leave at the earliest opportunity."

She felt as though a deep pit had opened up under her. What's happened now?

"Look, this is the second night in a row that we've ended up in the same bed together," he explained. "I'm sure I don't have to draw you a picture about what might happen if this continues. Now, you are going to have to decide what you want of me. We can be hostess and guest, nurse and patient, just two friends, therapist and client, or perhaps something else."

She was in free fall. He wants to leave me! But what's 'something else' supposed to mean?

"But you have to realise that if it's to be something else, wherever that might lead, then it's going to require a significant change in our relationship. And if that happens, there are going to be consequences, probably irreversible consequences, which you have to recognise and accept. It may work, but I don't want you to be disappointed, especially in the vulnerable state you're in at the moment. I also don't want to be the person who breaks your trust, however unintentionally. So, I know it's difficult, but you have to decide what you want of me. I'm not trying to pressure you, but I don't think we can continue the way we are at the moment."

She said, miserably, "I don't want you to go."

Colin considered briefly, then said, "Well, perhaps you'd better ask yourself why you don't want me to leave. That might be the answer to our problem."

"What do you want to do, Colin?" she asked.

Ah. That's the sixty-four million dollar question, all right. "This is very difficult for me," he replied, "since anything I say is going to influence your decision." He held up his hands. "Yes, I know. But, as I said before, I don't want to be accused of manipulating you." He thought for a while, finally saying, "Let's just say, I will be happy with whatever decision you come to." Let's just hope that she gets the clue in my emphasis of happy to come to the right decision.

The morning passed in a very subdued fashion, although it wasn't unproductive. Shelagh found a spare cotton sheet, and by measuring his existing nightdress, cut and sewed a new one out of the sheet. Colin had fallen asleep on the settee, a result of his disturbed night. He was wearing the white cotton long-sleeved blouse and the denim skirt - again. Shelagh looked at him thoughtfully and wondered where she could find material to make him more skirts since he had now exhausted her wardrobe. It never crossed her mind for a minute that Colin would leave. She just had to figure out why she was so insistent that he stayed.

Lunch was a disjointed affair, with Shelagh becoming more distracted, and more unsettled, as the meal progressed.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She looked at him, wretchedly. It was clear she didn't want him to leave, and it was also clear what would inevitably happen if he stayed. Her mind kept churning round and round, to little purpose. She didn't think she wanted to discuss it with him, not just at the moment, anyway. But the dilemma was beginning to paralyse her. She shook her head, both to clear her thoughts, and to signify she didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm thinking," she said, "but I don't think I can talk to you just yet."

Colin bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I understand. If you do feel the need to share, I'll be waiting."

Some of the dried skin on Colin's hands had split, which made it almost impossible to hold knife, spoon or fork, so they were eating bread with cheese, cold meats and various accompaniments. Inevitably, Colin dropped a piece of pickle-laden meat into his lap, creating a mess. Shelagh scolded him, forgetting her worries for the moment, and made him take off the skirt so she could rinse off the sticky residue. She was forced to let him wear the Fraser tartan skirt instead, but she pinned tea-towels to him to make sure he didn't ruin anything else.

"It looks like I'm going to have to make you a pinny, or we'll run out of things for you to wear," she said, exasperated. "You're certainly giving me extra washing. I thought as your burns healed, the washing would reduce, but you're determined to prove me wrong."

After lunch, Shelagh had a look through the various linen that she owned, but couldn't find anything suitable. She lit an oil-lamp and went out into the outbuilding behind the parlour.

"Colin, can you give me a hand, please?" she called after a while.

He looked at his hands, dubiously. "If you mean literally, then after what happened at lunch I don't know that that's such a good idea." He carefully pulled his gloves on before he entered the room.

"Do you think you can help shift some of these boxes?" she asked. "If you can't, you can't, so just say so. But somewhere in here, one contains old linen and other material, and it would be a help if we can dig it out."

"Am I going to get what I'm wearing dirty?" he asked in return. "How long have these boxes been here, anyway?"

"Since I moved in, four years ago. But some of them date back to before Nan's time, so yes, they might get you dirty. It shouldn't be anything I can't brush off, though. Most of these aren't that heavy, they're just awkward to move for someone my height."

Between the two of them, they lifted two clinking boxes down, exposing another layer of storage behind. They moved three more boxes, stacking them temporarily in the parlour to give themselves room.

Finally, Shelagh nodded to herself and said, "I think what I'm looking for is in one of those," pointing to several old large cardboard suitcases in the back layer. Between them, they carefully pulled three cases out, dusted them, and carried them into the parlour, returning the items that they'd cleared before. The first case Shelagh opened contained a whole pile of linen, including what she was looking for, an old, plain linen tablecloth.

"This should be dead easy," she remarked as she got out her sewing things, "I made one of these in school, so I remember how it's done."

A square, as deep as waist to knee, formed the lower part, the top folded over to form a waistband. A second, smaller square formed the bib. Around the top and sides of the bib a two-inch frill was sewn.

"That's to catch splatter," she explained, "for when you start to do some cooking."

Two yard-long strips were folded and sewn lengthways to form tapes, and fixed to the top corners of the bib, and then led over the shoulders, crossed behind, taken through loops at the ends of the waistband, and tied in the small of the back.

"Hmm! You do look very pretty," she said. "Go into the bedroom and look."

Colin went, and again was blown away by what he saw in the mirror. It's a toss up which one of us is going to go crazy first, he thought. I'm turning into Alice in Wonderland. Alternatively, I feel like I ought to be serving in a posh cafe with this thing on. I'll have to wear it for all meals, though, I'm making enough mess as it is, and this does... look nice on me. Then he thought, Maybe this will affect her decision. But which way? He returned to the parlour.

"I'm ashamed to admit I have to agree with you, it looks good," he said. Wryly, he added, "You're causing me almost as many psychological problems as I seem to be causing you. What are you making now?"

"It occurred to me that I might as well make another one while I've got the material here," she replied.

"Why? Do you think I'll be changing aprons that often? Am I really that messy?"

"No, silly! I'm making one for myself. Only they'll be the same size, so we can mix and match as required."

She ran up the second pinny, donned it, and the two of them stood facing one another, grinning like idiots.

"It was a good idea," she said. "I've needed something with a bit more protection while I'm cooking, and now I'm doing more varied meals this will be just right. You do realise you'll have to wear that for every meal, until your hands heal properly?"

"Yes, I did realise. That's okay with me. I can't go on throwing food everywhere."

"I should think so! Worse than a baby, you are!"

Worse than a... baby. Oh, my God! That's exactly what it's been like, from the start! First he was helpless, I had to wash him and dress him, even put a nappy on him after the first night! Then once he woke, I had to feed him, bathe him, even take him to the privy. Now he's about reached the toddler state, just able to feed himself, but still messy. It's been just like having a very big baby. No wonder my emotions are confused when I think about him.

"Shelagh? You all right?"

"What? Oh, yes, thank you. I've just realised something." She sat down in Nan's chair to continue her musing, her face thoughtful, Colin's existence temporarily forgotten. Is this what it's going to be like when I have my own baby? She, or he, will be much smaller, of course. I want my own baby. Babies, in fact. Several. But babies require a sperm donor. No, not a sperm donor, that's wild feminist talk. What I need is a man. Oh. Ah. She looked up at him, her face inscrutable, although a hint of colour was beginning to appear in her cheeks.

"I just had an interesting idea, shall we say. It can keep for later, though." She stood, and began to tidy away her sewing things, keeping her face turned away till the colour faded. "Will you give me a hand putting these away?" She indicated the cases. "We'll need the table soon for preparing dinner."

"Aren't you going to have a look in them first, in case there's anything useful in them?" he asked.

"Why, yes, I suppose so," she replied, surprised, "It never occurred to me, seeing as how we found the linen in the first one." She knelt and released the latches on the first unopened one. It was filled with a number of large paper bags, each of which contained one or more items of folded clothing. The first held a number of very old tee shirts, the next some nylon and rayon slips, both full and waist. The next three each held a skirt; and the last two each contained a Laura Ashley dress, of the type that was fashionable in the seventies. She carefully shook the garments out and laid them over several chair backs so they could see what they'd found.

"I don't know that I can stand more more of this excitement," said Colin, "I thought being stuck out in this cottage was going to be boring."

You'd never guess how I thought it was going to be, stuck out here with you , she thought. I was wrong about that, too.

"I knew there was clothing here," she replied, "It never occurred to me that much of it would be any use."

"Your 'Nan' wouldn't happen to have been about your size, would she?" asked Colin, eyeing the Laura Ashley dresses. "Would I fit any of that? If it helps your stressed wardrobe, I'm willing to try."

"Get in the queue, serpent! I get first dibs on trying stuff on. And to answer your question, yes, she was about my size. If any of the skirts will fit, they'd be most welcome, for either of us. I expect they'd all need a clean first, though."

She released the latches on the third case and pulled open the lid. A pungent rubbery smell was released.

"Woof! What a pong!" she exclaimed, lifting out yet more paper bags. "This lot seems to be mostly underwear."

She pulled out bags of ancient knickers, all with perished elastic, bras ditto, stockings that crumbled at the slightest touch, brushed nylon nightdresses where the fabric had first petrified then crumbled, ancient scarves, a wash bag containing dried-up soap and toothpaste and a make-up bag with all the contents completely dessicated.

"I don't think there's much in here we could use," she said, refilling the case. "It looks like this one got stored somewhere where the sunlight got at it, or perhaps near a radiator or something. Pity." She picked up the bag of bras, and hesitated. "I'll keep those by, I may have had an idea. Let's get the rest tidied up, and put these cases outside again before one of us trips over them and breaks a leg."

They cleared the cases out of the parlour and put them back into the outbuilding. Shelagh found some spare hangers and hung the clothes from the second case up in her bedroom to air, and let the wrinkles out. "Not that I'm expecting much. These will probably need a rinse, followed by steam ironing."

While she started getting the evening meal ready, Colin sat near the stove, carefully - and sometimes painfully - picking at the hardened skin on his fingers. What he managed to remove went into the stove. The new skin revealed underneath showed pink, and was as yet too smooth to afford him much grip, but he knew it would be only a matter of time. When Shelagh announced the meal would be ready, he carefully washed his hands and applied the moisturiser before pulling his gloves back on. He sat at the table, still wearing the pinny.

"I've got some salmon steaks out of the freezer, plus fresh veg. Eat up! And I don't care if you splatter yourself, now, although it will still be a waste of food if you do."

Of course, Colin didn't drop a thing.

Afterwards, as they relaxed by the stove, he asked her, "Have you thought about what I said this morning, at all?"

"Yes, of course I have!" she replied, "I now understand what the problem is, although I'm not sure I entirely did before. Is this something to do with the way male sexuality works? If so, I'm sorry not to have appreciated your predicament earlier."

"Well, as I can't know how female sexuality works, in that respect, I can't answer you."

"I don't think I can give you an answer tonight, though." She held up her hands. "It's proving a difficult dilemma for me to get to grips with, and I think I need more time to decide." She took a deep breath. "Therefore, tonight, we go to our separate rooms, and we stay there, no matter what. If you hear me during the night, you are going to have to let me sort it out myself. Leave me alone, stay in your own room, and I'll try and stay in mine. Only open your door if I'm hammering on it and shouting 'FIRE'! Will that be acceptable?"

Colin nodded. "Yes, we can do that. But it only puts off the decision, and you can't keep putting this one off. Tomorrow, I think you must figure out how we can proceed. We have to know where we stand."

She looked glum, and nodded. "You'll know by tomorrow night, one way or the other."

After washing up and tidying away for the evening, they went to the big bedroom to get ready for retiring. Shelagh undressed Colin and put her newly-made nightdress on him, then took him to the bathroom and bathed his legs before bandaging them.

"These sores seem to have cleared up quite well. Two or three days, that's all," she commented, "then I think you'll be able to dig that pack of tights out." That's if I'm still here, he thought.

"They cleared up fairly quickly," he said. "Is there something in that ointment?"

She squinted at the label on the tub. "It's got some antiseptic in it, that's what made the difference."

As he walked to his room, she stopped him, a question in her face.

"'Cuddles and hugs?'"

"Why yes, of course. Didn't I say so?" He held out his arms, and she wrapped herself round him.

"I've liked having you here, Colin Anderson," she murmured, "I'll be sorry if you have to go. You've brightened up my whole winter."

"I've enjoyed being here," he replied gravely, holding her close, "Oh, perhaps not the first couple of days, but it's certainly been an... enlightening... experience. You've shown me many interesting things I would never have otherwise found. Perhaps it's time I went to my room. Goodnight, Shelagh."

"Goodnight, Colin."

He closed his bedroom door and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up. I hope she's all right tonight. The last two nights weren't exactly a picnic. She should never have been out here on her own in the first place, the state she's in. I suppose it's just as well I happened along to occupy her attention. I may have made a misjudgement here, but I hope she figures it out tomorrow. Sleep came.

Shelagh undressed, paid a bathroom visit, closed her own bedroom door, and climbed into her own bed. Her mind was still wrestling with the conflicting demands Colin had placed on her. He's certainly right. If we carry on as we were, it's inevitably going to end with sex. Two people of opposite persuasion can't spend as much time together without getting very close, and it can only end one way. It's a great shame, really. He's made so much difference to my life since he's been here. And to think I could barely stand to be in the same room as him, at the start!

Actually, Shelagh, if you want to have babies, you need a man somewhere along the way. You have a baby machine inside down there, but it takes a man to press the start button. The experience certainly shouldn't be anything like that night in Oxford. She shivered as the memory of that night came back, unwanted. I hope.

I just wish he'd spelled it out, although I know why he didn't. Or do I? If I'd told him, "You have to leave," it wouldn't have mattered whether he told me or not. So, the fact that he hasn't tells me what? That he has a positive interest in staying? That he wants to have sex with me? He more or less admitted that anyway. No, he didn't, perhaps there's something else he's trying to hint at.

"Something else." That's what he said this morning. And he emphasised the word... happy. Think, Shelagh. Use some logic here, it's important. What did he say? "Now, you are going to have to decide what you want of me. We can be hostess and guest, nurse and patient, just two friends, therapist and client, or perhaps something else." Then he said, "I will be happy with whatever decision you come to."

Shelagh turned over in the darkened room, her eyes open, her brain churning furiously.

What did he mean? That he'd be happy as hostess and guest? Happy as nurse and patient? Happy as just two friends? Happy as therapist and client? Well, no, since we'd already decided we couldn't go on as we were. Therefore, he'd be happy as something else. What something else? Where can we go?

He also said, "You must ask yourself, why don't you want me to leave?" Well, why? Because I -

Ah. What a complete fool. How dense can one girl be? I suppose I've been so wrapped up in my own memories and attempts to keep away from men that I'd forgotten that normal human processes might carry on around me. I wonder how long since he's realised? Shelagh's body grew very warm, as she blushed from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair. She wriggled uncomfortably in the bed as realisation dawned, then stilled abruptly as the vision of a possible bright new future exploded in her mind. Her face suddenly had a big, beaming smile as she examined her revelation and found nothing bad.

Abruptly, her smile faded. Easy, there. How much do you know about this man? Quite a lot, actually. Her cheeks warmed as she realised that she'd had intimate contact with his body before she'd even said hello to him. However, he's still someone you've been treating just as a friend for a fortnight. You must examine him differently tomorrow, before you give him a decision. After all, you might be jumping to the wrong conclusion. Or he might not be suitable in certain ways. And he's asking you for a big commitment, he's asking you to give him your body. Well, she thought wryly, I get to have his in return. Not such a bad bargain, I don't even have to inspect it.

Sighing happily, Shelagh drifted off to sleep, attempting to decide how she'd play the morrow. She slept soundly, the first night she'd done so since he'd arrived unexpectedly out of the snow.

*****

December 11th

Colin woke, the bright light of dawn forcing it's way past the edges of the curtains. He yawned, got out of bed, and pulled the curtains, to reveal bright sunlight reflected from snow. The tiny bit of sky that he could see between the edge of the crag and the mountain opposite was blue. When he opened his bedroom door, the familiar smell of cooking oats told him that breakfast would be ready when he was.

"Good morning!" Shelagh greeted him.

"Good morning to you. Did you manage to sleep well last night?"

"Very well, thank you," she replied. "It's oats again today, is that all right?"

"That's fine. If we stuff down all the bacon at one go, it won't be there to look forward to. Although we'll have to remember not to leave the eggs too long."

"I've been thinking about that," she said, "I might use a couple of them to make a cake later this afternoon. What do you think of that idea?"

"Excellent idea! That is, provided I'm still here to enjoy the results."

Shelagh gave him a sidelong glance. Yes, it's still open, isn't it? I have to carry on, though, as though he isn't going. She waved a hand, dismissively.

"If you decide to go, then I'll pack you some cake to take," she said. "Here, let me put your pinny on, and you can sit down. It's nearly ready."

"I should find eating a bit easier today," he said as he sat down, "I managed to remove some of the dead skin yesterday, and my fingers feel a lot more like they ought to."

"Can I see?"

Colin peeled off his gloves and showed her. Shelagh nodded and said, "Looks good. Does any of it still hurt?"

"Yes, a couple of places on each palm. Of course, there are parts of my legs that hurt, too, but that's to be expected, and I don't use them to eat with anyway."

"The weather's changed," she added conversationally, "When I got some logs in this morning, it felt very warm, the temperature's quite a bit above freezing in the yard, and the air feels quite damp. I wouldn't wonder if we'll have some rain in the next day or two."

"What? On top of all this snow?"

"Yes, it does happen out here. Nothing to worry about, though. It all gets washed into the loch, it's quite spectacular to see, but it's quite safe."

Shelagh served out the porridge and sat down. She was disconcerted to find that she was facing a stranger. After the previous night's revelations her mind now saw Colin in a different way, and she had to determine whether the new person was as acceptable to her as the old one had been. Breakfast was eaten in silence, both unwilling to mention the day's impending decision, which would have consequences for both whichever way it went.

Breakfast over, they adjourned to the bathroom where Colin, for the first time, was able to remove his bandages and wash his legs on his own, though under Shelagh's supervision. However, he still asked her to shave him, claiming that his grip was not good enough yet for such a delicate task.

In the big bedroom, Shelagh relented to Colin's plea to try on the items from the case, although she insisted that it would be a try-on only, and that she would have to at minimum rinse and iron the clothes before they could be worn in anger. That was, assuming that they fit in the first place. He turned away while she pulled off her jeans and put on a slip, then watched her pull on the first of the skirts and zip it up.

This was a mid-calf length bias-cut a-line skirt with a plaid-like design in a number of shades of grey, of a style popular in the early seventies.

"What do you think?" She stuck her thumb in the waistband and pulled. "Not too tight, and about the right length, lined, too. I think it will do you fine, once your legs are healed up."

She's still behaving as if I'm staying. Well, that's fine with me, although I'll have to hear her say it out loud, to make sure there's no misunderstanding. The fact she hasn't said anything yet might mean she has reservations. What do I do? Just have to be myself. She has to see the real me, not any act like I've done before with girlfriends.

"It looks good on you," he replied, "But, then again, a sack would look good on you." It was true, too. She had the kind of body that would enhance anything, although she probably didn't realise it. That wasn't the way her personality worked. She took off the skirt and tried another. This one was a brown corduroy skirt with eight box pleats, knee length. Finally, the last skirt was a straight black skirt, below knee length, with a back vent.

"It's interesting," he said, "do women choose their clothes to suit their mood, or do the clothes you wear set your mood for you? You've looked different every time you changed, there."

"Half and half, I think," she replied, "That's why it sometimes takes a woman so long to decide what to wear. She has to find something to fit the circumstances and her own mood at the same time."

Removing the last skirt, she pulled off her jumper and reached for the first dress.

"Can you do me up, please? I'm not used to wearing this sort of thing."

"Certainly." He pulled up the long back zip. "There you are. Turn round and let me see you."

The design was almost Victorian, with a dense print design in a predominantly blue colour. It had long sleeves and a high neck, and came to mid calf.

"Wow. You do look pretty. Even though it's a vintage style, it suits you perfectly. I dare say you'd look a little odd, walking down any street in Aberdeen dressed like that these days, but I don't care. The blue matches your eyes. You look beautiful."

Hearing those honestly-made compliments, a glow washed through Shelagh. She turned and struck a pose in front of the mirror. My, he was right! She'd not dressed in anything even remotely like this for years, and she felt good. A little bit of attention to hair and face, perhaps? She'd last worn makeup in college, so she had none. The sisterhood would have thrown her out bodily if she'd so much as mentioned makeup. So, she decided, that was one thing that would definitely change, whatever was decided. Some heels? Haven't got any of those, either. She realised that her previous life had gone forever, whatever happened, and she decided to take that as a good omen. She turned to Colin, smiling.

"Thank you for your kind words, Colin. I don't know where I could possibly wear this, but I like it. It's going in my wardrobe once it's clean."

Colin's face fell. Shelagh laughed, and said, "You're being dressed out of my wardrobe, silly!" Her tone changed. "But if you wear this, I'll expect you to treat it very carefully. I don't want some lump of a man tearing holes in it because he's not delicate enough. Now, help me out of it, please."

Colin, meanwhile, has been desperately trying to resist the strong urge to grab Shelagh and smother her with kisses. As he stepped round behind her, his hands shaking, he knew that he had been sunk without trace. He cleared his throat as he pulled down the zip, and helped Shelagh off with the dress.

"You know, the world is a poorer place since you decided to live out here in the back of beyond," he said, shakily. He handed her the hanger, and she swapped the garment for the other dress. This one had short, loose sleeves and a mainly white background with tiny bunches of flowers printed all over it. It was longer than the first dress, and was obviously a summer style. After helping her to put it on, Colin had to sit on the edge of the bed and try and control his breathing, his head bowed.

"What do you think of this one?" She turned. "Colin? Are you all right?"

Colin lifted his head and looked at her, flushed. His hands ached where he'd clenched them.

"It's okay. Perhaps I feel a little warm this morning. You look just as good as you did in the other one."

Shelagh decided that this one would get some wear in the summer, when she was relaxing. Colin's reaction concerned her. Perhaps he had caught something? Well, yes, but not any disease.

"Do you want to try these on before I rinse them?" she asked. "It might be better if you left them till they're cleaned and ironed."

Colin shook his lowered head. All his enthusiasm for new things had disappeared, swamped by the most powerful emotions he'd felt for years.

"No," he muttered, "Perhaps now is not the best time. Just find me something to get dressed in."

"Unfortunately, we're so short of things for you to wear, I think you're going to have to put the posh dress on again." Colin's head snapped up. "It's all right, we've got the pinnies now to protect you. By the end of the day, I should have done at least two of these skirts, and then we'll have a bit of margin again for coming days. Come here, let me take your nightdress off. Did you find it comfortable?"

Colin's head was swirling. Is she using some kind of psychological means to get me to agree what she wants? If so, she sure found the right buttons to push. He tamely stood and let her pull on his bra, then a full slip, and finally the dress. When she had finished, he muttered an incoherent thanks and walked back into the parlour, to get himself a drink of water. Shelagh shook her head.

Wow. Just wow. I've never seen such a strong reaction from him. Now, is that because of me, or because of the clothes? Or is it something else? If I say 'yes' to him, am I going to get flattened in the rush? Well, he did manage to control himself in the end. He's been a perfect gentleman so far. It shows how much effect I have on him, though, and that frightens me. But it might be worth pursuing that line of thought. It shouldn't hurt to put him under a little pressure, it'll show me how he reacts. If I'm to have a future with him, he'll need to be able to withstand some pressure.

She realised that she was standing wearing bra and slip, and decided to put on a good jumper and the green tweed skirt instead of wearing the jeans again. Collecting the other clothes, she walked down to the parlour, where she found Colin sitting at the table with a glass of water.

"If your hands are up to it, would you like to have a go at washing the dishes while I do the clothes? It would help me, and give you a chance to see how your hands have improved."

He nodded. "That's a good idea, and it would be helping you." He stood up, and turned towards the sink, then hesitated and turned back. "Pinny?"

"Pinny."

Dumping the clothes on the table, she tied his pinny on. He took a couple of steps, turned, and looked at her.

"Now I feel even more like Alice in Wonderland! All it needs is a White Rabbit to come past, saying he's late, and my trip into insanity will be complete."

She inspected him. "No, not quite yet. You need an Alice band and a pair of girl's shoes to look the part properly. Do you want the hat?"

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Why would I do that?" she said, straight-faced. She tied the other pinny onto herself, picked up the clothes and went off to the bathroom.

Colin discovered that he could wash up quite effectively, and realised that he'd probably allocated himself the job by doing so. Shelagh had her hands in water often enough as it was. Everything had been cleaned, dried and put away, and he was seated reading his book by the time she returned from the bathroom. He'd even managed to spill the knot and take the pinny off by himself when he'd finished at the sink.

The sureness that Shelagh had felt at the start of the day had steadily crumbled while she was in the bathroom. The emotion that had crept up to replace it was fear. Fear that she might lose him. Fear that she might make a big mistake by rejecting him, and that she might make a big mistake by accepting him. Fear of what might happen if she said 'yes', that what happened next would not be pleasant. The last time hadn't been, after all. Fear that Colin's strong emotions might get the better of him. Fear that his own emotions might cause Colin to leave - to protect her. This is hopeless. Damned if I do and damned if I don't. This is no better than it was before, except that I trust Colin. Do I trust him to do the right thing? Does he trust himself? Do I trust myself? By the time she walked into the parlour her expression was woebegone again.

"Shelagh?" He stood up as he saw her expression, and came towards her, his arms open. "What's the matter?"

She rushed towards him, to meet him with a thump. Their arms went around each other.

"I'm afraid," she said, "I'm afraid I'll get it wrong. I'm afraid of what will happen if you leave me. I'm afraid - a little - of what will happen if you stay. I'm afraid of you. I saw you struggling in the bedroom."

Colin held her tight. She was shaking, again. "Yes, it was a bit of a shock, wasn't it?" he said quietly. "I didn't - " know how strongly I felt for you, was what he was going to say, but he changed his mind. "I didn't realise how beautiful you could look, when you put your mind to it," he amended. He asked her, "Why should you be afraid of me?"

"Because you're a man, an unknown quantity," she replied.

He thought, then said, "When you come down to it, everyone else in the world is an unknown quantity. Even though you think you know them, that you understand them, there are always things that will take you by surprise, good things or bad things. People you know get a bit more familiar than complete strangers, true, but even then, you never entirely know them. There are people who have been married forty years who still find out things about their partner they didn't know before. So don't be too worried about that. What you're describing is just normal human existence."

"So what you're saying is, I've just got to put up with it? Is that it?"

"No, there's also the matter of trust. If you trust someone, and the trust works both ways, then you trust them not to pull out any unpleasant surprises on you, or if they must, you trust them to help you get over the unpleasantness. Or whatever. The more you trust them, the more you can relax and know that they will have your interests at heart." He took a deep breath. "I've also realised, this morning, that I've been putting you under pressure, which was not my intention at all. All along, I've been trying to let you make your own decisions, as you should, to refuse to manipulate you, to not coerce you, or appear to coerce you, into doing anything you don't want to. That's why I've tried to be as careful as possible about what I say to you, to avoid influencing you. I've also had to point out that our current circumstances are not sustainable. I hadn't realised it would cause you such distress to work out a solution. If I've caused you distress, then I'm truly, truly sorry. I can promise that this will be the only time it ever happens. In the future, if you ask me something, I will answer openly and truthfully, you have my word."

In the future? Well, if he goes, she felt a pang, it won't matter, because he's never likely to be in a position to deliver. And if he stays? That's good, but it's what I would expect from him anyway. She released her arms, composed, and he let her go. She had been comforted by his words, and she understood their problem very well. She'd also been slightly annoyed by his refusal to help her decide, even though she thought she knew the reasons why. Well, he's probably annoyed by my dithering, she thought. She shook her head, to clear it.

"Lunch time," she announced. That'll use up the last of the bread. Will I need to make one loaf or two, tomorrow? "The usual? There's enough bread left to go with today's soup. Would you like to come into the pantry and choose which soup we have?"

Lunch was again a subdued affair, with an air of impending doom hanging over the proceedings. Colin washed up and Shelagh wiped. Afterwards, she decided to mix her cake, and got out the ingredients. It was just a simple sponge cake, with a little vanilla flavouring. She was glad of her new pinny, since she hadn't made a cake for some while, and making cakes turned out to be somewhat messier than kneading bread. Colin had a go at stirring, but the force needed to manipulate the spoon turned out to be too much for his hands. Although the tips of his fingers were now pain free, there was still hardened skin covering sensitive areas on his palms, so he was forced to give up. As they cleaned the debris away, Shelagh decided to have another go at their mutual problem.

"Tell me about your job."

He grimaced. "There's not much to tell, unfortunately. I'm supposed to be a publisher's agent, that is, someone who liaises between the publisher and the authors, or their own agents. I check the contracts, make sure manuscripts arrive and payments are made, generally try to keep the whole business running smoothly, that sort of thing. I've actually turned into a sort of glorified 'gofer', a messenger boy running around the country, which is not what I wanted at all. I spend far too much time on the road, and not enough in the office."

"You must have known you'd be given all the rubbish jobs when you started. It's the equivalent of 'tea boy', surely? Won't things improve?"

"I've been doing this job five years," Colin replied, "and at the London office I did what I thought I'm supposed to be doing. It's only since I came to Edinburgh that I've spent so much time out on the road. It's a much smaller office than London, everyone's a bit more mobile."

"What's your degree?"

"Business, but there's a strong English bias. I mean English language, not English business. I eventually want to become a publisher's editor or something like that."

"Oh. So you're well read, then?"

"Yes, I loved English Lit at school. Know a little Latin, too, although I haven't used it since I left university."

They talked some more. Shelagh made some tea, and they took it and sat down by the stove, discussing the good, the bad and the outrageous things they'd each experienced at college. Finally, as the light was going at the end of the short winter day, the timer dinged and Shelagh went to get her cake out of the oven. She set it on a rack to cool, and looked towards Colin, still seated.

I was wrong about him, she thought. He's not worried about the sex at all. Okay, perhaps that's his most immediate concern, but I begin to suspect he's aiming much higher. No wonder he won't say anything! She took a deep breath. I have to find out, and there's only one way I know how to do that.

She walked towards him, and stopped.

"Hugs and cuddles?"

Startled, Colin stood up and walked rapidly towards her, arms open. She clasped him, and he held her, as he had done before. She rested her head on his chest for a moment, then raised it and looked at him.

"Kiss me," she commanded.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, "Absolutely sure?"

"No," she replied, evenly, "That's why I want you to kiss me."

His head bent to hers, and their lips met. The impact was not what either of them expected. It was much greater, as though two pieces of plutonium had been brought together. They swayed, holding each other up as best they could. Finally, they came up for air, and she rested her head briefly on his chest again, so that he couldn't see her expression. Colin let out a great breath, and was startled again when her grip suddenly loosened. His heart gave a lurch. Was it all for nothing? He opened his arms and released her. She took a half-step back and looked up at him, her eyes shining.

"Now I'm sure," she whispered, putting both arms around his neck and pulling him down for another, much longer, kiss.

They stayed like that, locked together, as the light went from the sky and the room darkened, revelling in their discovery of each other. Finally, they broke, and just stood holding one another in the gloom.

"I understand now why you couldn't say anything," she said softly, "but if you had, I don't think you'd have had much cause for complaint."

"Ah, but there would always have been something nagging me about whether or not I had influenced you. I couldn't think of a way to tell you at all," he replied. "So," he asked her, "you want me to stay, then?"

She almost succumbed to hysterical laughter. "You think, after that performance, I'm going to let you out of the door? Of course you're staying!" Her grip on him tightened, her eyes grew round and serious. "I'm not sure I can live without you any more."

"No more can I live without you," he replied, kissing her gently on the forehead.

After more minutes, her face grew set. "There's one final thing that needs to be resolved," she said, her voice determined, "I must do this, or the whole thing will be for nothing." She looked up at Colin's face, just barely visible in the darkness. "Lay with me, please." Her voice softened. "Please, Colin, if you do love me, help me do this. I'm afraid, but I'm more afraid what will happen if I don't."

"What is it they teach you in nursing college?" he responded quietly, "'First, do no harm.' Do you think I would want to cause you harm? If you are sure that my body is what you wish, then, yes, I will do what you ask. I will try and be as gentle as I can."

With that, she took his hand and towed him along to her bedroom. She drew the curtains and lit one of the oil-lamps which sat on the bedside cabinets either side of the bed, then came back to him and put her arms round his neck, linking her hands.

They kissed again, then, getting more passionate. After a while, they realised that their clothing would be an impediment, so they slowly began to strip, each removing the other's things, leaving them scattered on the bedroom floor. When Colin pulled her bra from her arms, he paused. It was the first time he had seen her body, except briefly and partially that morning. The touch of his fingers on her skin made her hiss, and waves of sensation blossomed through her body. She sat down on the bed, breathing heavily, pulling him down beside her. His finger touched her cheek, and she gave a cry. He pulled his finger back as though it had been scalded.

"No! It's just... a very strong reaction," she gasped. "Ooh," she breathed, as he did it again. Overwhelmed by the sensations flooding her, she fell backwards on the bed, and he leant over her, kissing her gently on the body, her body responding with wave after powerful wave that threatened to engulf her. She soon lost the power of coherent speech, and shortly after was incapable of coherent thought as well, her body reduced to instinct. Then he used his fingertips, and she learnt the meaning of the word caress, and she surrendered to wave after wave that built to shuddering explosions that started between her legs and swept over her whole body. Finally, he lay between her legs, and entered her, and her body instinctively moved with his, and he came to a shuddering explosion of his own, and the two sank onto the bed, still locked together, utterly exhausted.

When Colin came to, he was lying on his back, and she was leaning over him, her breasts resting on his body, idly drawing designs on his chest with her finger.

"Hello man," she said, in a very satisfied manner. She bent down to kiss him gently on the lips.

"Hello woman," he replied, huskily. "How do you feel?"

She cocked her head. "At nursing college, I used to hear the other nurses talk about having their brains screwed out," she said, "and I always assumed that it was just an expression or that they were exaggerating." She grinned, ruefully. "I now know that it's not so far from the truth." She suddenly looked concerned. "Is that what it's going to be like every time?" she asked. "I'll be a wrinkled shell within months if it is."

He grinned, "You don't escape that easily!" Sobering up, he continued, "We were both severely in need of some release, it's not surprising that it was a bit intense for both of us. The emotions and the hormones must have been building up for ages, for both of us. It should be more manageable, and more enjoyable, in the future."

"What, you mean, like now?" Her eyes lit up.

"Ah, no, I don't think so, not unless you want to wash some more sheets. I have to go to the bathroom. Besides, we poor males don't have the staying power of you lot. We need a period of calm, quiet contemplation before -"

Shelagh thumped Colin's chest with her fist, and pouted. He'd never seen her pout before, but he suspected it wouldn't be the last time. "Get up, before I do something serious to you, go on! I'll stand for no delays, though."

Colin climbed out of bed, managing to put his hand in all sorts of interesting places as he did so. Shelagh just reclined back on the sheets to wait for him. When he returned, he picked up some of the discarded clothing and placed it over a chair back before joining her in the bed.

"I've started the generator, as you can hear. I damn near broke a toe walking down to the bathroom in the dark."

She wrapped an arm round him, and looked at him seriously. "Your client thinks her therapist has done a good job so far," she said, "I don't think I'm cured but this," she poked him in the ribs, "doesn't worry me any more. Quite the opposite, I think I've finally found something to do to occupy my long, winter evenings."

He raised an eyebrow. "You may regret making that statement. On the other hand," he sighed, "so might I."

Another hour was spent ensuring that they hadn't forgotten what to do, then Shelagh decided that it was time they rose and did something about food. They both took turns in the bathroom, and by the time that Colin got dressed, as much as he was able, Shelagh was in front of the range, humming to herself as she browned some chicken breasts. She put the pan to one side to zip him up, do up the cuff buttons, and put his pinny on him so that they matched. Then she got him to watch the pan while she peeled vegetables.

To celebrate, they opened the bottle of white wine, and had themselves a slow, enjoyable meal before sitting together on the settee in each other's arms and spending some time just gazing at one another, talking and tenderly kissing. Both were in extremely good spirits, their lives having changed forever. Finally, digestion having taken it's course, they retired to the main bedroom to couple again before eventually falling asleep, still joined together.

*****

December 12th

Colin was woken by a dull roar. Starting, he realised where he was, and relaxed. Shelagh surfaced, wakened by his movement.

"Hello, gorgeous."

"Hello, yourself. What's that noise?"

She kissed him before replying. "That, my dearest love, is rain. I came to earlier on, it's been raining for hours."

"Oh. I assume we're safe enough in here? Well then, what kind of breakfast would you like? Boring oats, fattening bacon or worn-out man?"

"Oo, what a choice. Did I pick a man without any stamina, then?"

"I've got stamina. Well, I thought I had. We've just been going at it a bit hard, and I'm a little sore, is all. And all that leaping about takes energy, you know. I could just molest you for a while if you want," he offered.

"Filthy man. No, I suppose you're right. We created a certain amount of chaos last night, all right. I suspect it's later than we think, as well. We didn't get to sleep as early as we usually do."

"And whose fault is that?"

"I dunno," she said, innocently, "we must have had intruders."

Colin let Shelagh go and clean herself up in the bathroom, then followed her, pulling on his nightdress as he climbed out of bed. Although the cottage was well-insulated, the temperature inside first thing in the morning was a little cool to be wandering about completely naked. He wandered into the parlour and over to the big window. It was daylight, but the view was obscured both by heavy mist and driving rain. The drifts of snow which had been outside the window had been sculpted into fantastic shapes by the falling water. He turned, as the sound and smell of frying bacon hit his senses.

"I took your point about using energy. Now you're more active I'm going to have to feed you up a bit," she said.

"Ah, not too much," he replied, "otherwise I won't be able to squeeze into those waistlines. In fact, you've probably been feeding me too much up to now, given that I've just been sitting around. Some of those skirts definitely feel tighter than when I first put them on."

"True," she said, nodding, "but once I've got you doing a bit of housework you'll soon get back into shape. Can you do that up completely, now?"

Colin had tried to put his pinny on, but couldn't quite tie it behind as his hands were still stiff.

"Not quite. Give it a day or two. Damn." The last remark was prompted by his right moccasin falling apart as he sat down. Shelagh came and tied his pinny, and picked up the offending footwear to inspect it.

"Hmm. The stitching's gone. I'm surprised it's lasted this long, actually. When I made these, I thought you'd be gone in a couple of days. I don't know if I can repair it. There might be enough of your old coat left to do a patch, or even replace that section. I'll have a look after breakfast."

Breakfast over, Shelagh got out her sewing kit while Colin washed and dried the breakfast things. She managed enough of a repair that he could wear the moccasins for a short while longer.

"I don't think these will last much longer. The other one's in not much better condition," she said.

"I've been thinking about that," Colin mused, "Would you say that your grandmother had bigger feet than you?"

"They were, actually," replied Shelagh, mystified, "why do you ask?"

"Because when we were putting those cases away the other day, I noticed a big box at the back which somebody had written 'boots and shoes' on. Worth a look?"

"You have these occasional flashes of brilliance, did I tell you? Yes, definitely worth a look. But it will still be cold out there, so we'd better get dressed first. Unless you want to wear the denim skirt again, I think you'd better try on one of those that we discovered yesterday."

The two skirts she'd washed the previous day had been hung up overnight above the range, removed before breakfast had been started, and hung over a chair while they ate.

"This one's till a little damp around the hem, and in any case it's too long for you at the moment," she said, holding up the bias-cut skirt with the grey plaid pattern, "but this other one seems okay." She held up the brown corduroy skirt with the box pleats. "Shall we sort your legs out?"

"No need, I did that when I was in the bathroom before," he replied, "but I do need to shave."

In the bedroom, she found him a ribbed roll-neck jumper in a colour which nearly matched the skirt, and helped him dress. She was forced to use one of the full slips they'd found in the case because hers were all too long.

"I look like a cheer leader," he said, twirling in front of the mirror.

"I don't think so," she replied, "you've far too many brains and these," she gave his cloth-stuffed bra cups a playful squeeze, "aren't big enough."

"You wound me to the quick."

Dressing completed, they went to the outbuilding, where Colin pointed out the box he'd seen. It was very large, three feet by two feet by one, and blocked in by a number of other boxes.

"This is going to take some time."

They laboriously heaved all the obstructions out into the parlour and stacked them, finally freeing the big box. Colin's gloved hands could just manage as they pulled the box free, disturbing dust, cobwebs and some spiders as they did so. Putting this box in a free space in the parlour, Shelagh peeled away the tape holding it closed, and opened the flaps. The box was full of boots and shoes, as the inscription promised. Some were still in their boxes, others just jumbled together.

"Before we get too involved, why don't we put some of this other stuff back," Colin suggested, "Otherwise we won't have much room to move, once we start unloading this lot. And it will give the contents of that box time to warm up a little."

The rest of the boxes were returned, but this time Shelagh paid attention to anything written on the outsides. One box that said 'old clothes' she made sure was at the front, accessible for the future.

"No, let's not get sidetracked. It'll only get you excited, anyway," she said.

"And you aren't interested, I suppose?"

"I have to admit to a certain curiosity," she acknowledged, "but we have to see if there's anything we can put on your feet, first. That's the current priority. Then there's the usual housework to tackle. We'll have plenty of opportunities in the future to explore all these boxes."

She left Colin to pull the footwear out of the box and attempt to assemble pairs while she went to the bathroom to do the morning's washing. She returned grumbling.

"I think I'm getting housemaid's knee from kneeling in front of the bath all the time. I'll be glad when we get the power back on. Then I can just chuck it all in the washing machine."

"I thought you said the pipes were frozen?"

"Trust you to find a hole in my plan. How are you doing?"

He had several rows of boots and shoes lined up in front of the big window, to get the best light.

"Fifty-four pairs, plus five odd items. Some of them are so worn that there are holes in the soles. Some look as though they might have been worn once, if that. Those are generally the ones still in their boxes, over there. But look at these." He held up a pair of navy shoes with a four-inch heel and an ankle-strap.

"What's special about these?"

"The size. They're smaller than practically all the rest. Do they belong to you?"

Shelagh's head spun. Her memory reached back...

"Yes. They might be mine. I vaguely remember a pair of shoes that got lost, but then I did have a wardrobe full. I would have been about sixteen, seventeen, maybe. Perhaps I accidentally left them here after a holiday."

"Don't just stand there, try them on!"

She slipped off her indoor mules, put the shoes on, and was instantly elevated. "Just a minute." She walked around the parlour, adjusting her gait as she did so. It had been a long while since she'd last worn any kind of heel. Like riding a bicycle. One never really forgets. They're a bit tight, but if I wear them in, they should probably be okay for occasional use.

"I'm glad I kept you. These will be going in my wardrobe as well. If I'd looked at the contents of this box on my own, I probably wouldn't have noticed that this pair were a different size, and just given them away with all the others. You're turning out to be useful as well as pretty."

She was only half joking. As she looked at him, kneeling on the floor in the close-fitting jumper with the pleated skirt spreading over his hips and thighs, she thought he looked quite appealing. This relationship was certainly becoming very interesting!

"Have you tried any of them on, yourself?" she asked.

"A couple of pairs, just for size. Some of them seem to be big enough, even though the sizes indicate smaller. Perhaps men's shoes use different sizing to women's shoes?"

Shelagh shrugged. "I don't know. I suggest you just triage them. Sort out the pairs that fit you and that you like, the rest that are good enough to pass on, and those that should be thrown away. While we've got them out, we might as well take the opportunity to sort through them. Oh, and I want you to make sure you have some with different heel heights. You might as well get used to wearing heels as you have the chance."

Colin ended up with eleven pairs of shoes and sandals, all of different styles and colours, and two pairs of boots, one pair being lace-up ankle boots and the other zip-side calf boots, both with two-inch heels. Some of the shoes were slightly worn and some were almost new, including a pair of black patent courts with a three-inch heel. For today, he'd chosen a pair of brown shoes with a bar and an inch and a half heel, to start out gently. For the previous fortnight, he hadn't worn proper shoes at all, so his feet had spread somewhat.

The unusable shoes, about twenty pairs, went in a refuse bag and the rest went in a smaller box, to be put back into the outbuilding. The big box went outside, folded flat. While Shelagh was disposing of that, Colin put the kettle on and made some coffee for them.

After coffee, Shelagh looked at her sewing equipment, still on the big table, her brow furrowed. Getting up, she went and fetched a spare bra of hers, plus the bag of old bras they had found the previous day. She pulled out the old bras and examined them, keeping two that had undecorated cups and putting the others away again. Then she asked Colin to hold her spare bra up by the ends, so that it was stretched out, with the inside uppermost. Into the cups she placed the cups of the old bras, eventually choosing one of the two bras. On this one she made some marks round the edge of the cups, and finally she cleared everything away except the bra she had marked.

"It occurred to me that I might be able to salvage something out of this old stuff," she explained, "To keep stuffing strips of linen down your front makes you look all lumpy, and it's not particularly realistic either. I'm going to cut the cups out of this old bra, and make two breast pads for you."

Suiting action to words, she snipped both cups out, then, carefully shaping them, stood them on a scrap of the linen she had made the pinnies from. Drawing around the outline, she adjusted the shapes till she was satisfied, then cut two bases out and sewed them round the edges of the cups. She left the parlour then, returning shortly with an old tin half-filled with grey sand.

"This is some sand that is left over from the last lot of builders, who used it to point the stonework when I had the big window put in," she said. "If I fill the fake breasts with this, it will be more realistic for you than if I just stuffed them with, say, padding from your old coat. I won't fill the shapes out completely, or it will look like you've got implants."

She almost filled one breast pad, then used her cooking scales to ensure that the other one had the same amount of sand. Finally satisfied, she carefully sewed the bags closed and bound over the edges to ensure they were sealed.

"Try these, now."

Colin lifted his jumper, pulled out the filling of his bra and replaced it with the two pads. He immediately noticed the weight.

"Do you really have this much weight hanging off your chest? I suppose you must. These aren't even particularly big, I hate to think what large-breasted women have to put up with. And I bet they get to weigh heavier as the day goes on?"

She nodded. "Sometimes, when I'm feeling really tired. But there are compensations. As I'm sure you've noticed."

"Oh, yes. It seems there are always trade-offs with body parts that seem good, or for that matter bits that seem bad. These are not wobbly like yours, but they give a better profile," he added, pulling the jumper back down and adjusting it, "It seems I'm not the only one who has the good ideas."

Colin found that the combination of extra weight on his chest, plus the added height from the heeled shoes, made him stand and walk differently. He experimented by wandering round the cottage, Shelagh watching him while she packed her things away to clear the table for lunch.

He's quite good, for a man. Now, if his hair grows out, and I can get him to do something with his voice, he could pass in the street without any problem. What am I saying? Do I really want a man who looks like a woman? What does that make me? Um. He's happy, he's discovered more of himself as a person, and he's a man where it matters, between the sheets. And I get something more than just an ordinary bloke. She nodded to herself. I'm happy if he is. And that, at the moment, is the important thing.

Over lunch, Shelagh asked, "When did you first realise?"

"About us?" She nodded. "The morning after I climbed into your bed, when I asked you to decide what you wanted of me. You were confused, so you asked me what I wanted. Up to that point, I hadn't even considered the question. The moment you asked, it all became clear, but I knew I had to tread very carefully. I'm sorry it had to happen that way. When did you find out?"

"Not until I kissed you." She blushed. "But really, my heart had known for a long time, it's just that my head was so wrapped up in it's own problems it wouldn't listen. I began to realise that something was going on when you made me describe the attack. I got tearful, and you looked genuinely horrified, and you just opened your arms, as any girlfriend would have done. The moment we made contact my subconscious realised I couldn't live without you. I think it was the physical contact. I've been so long without that sort of human touch."

"You've been touching me, if you'll excuse the phrase, since the moment I got here," Colin objected.

"It wasn't the same. Using your words, it was 'Nurse and Patient' contact, business. Dressing you afterwards, washing you, all that, was deliberately functional. What I got from you that day we talked was emotional contact, of a sort I'd forgotten existed. Then you instituted 'hugs and cuddles', and I was effectively lost. But I wanted you to stay here long before that."

Colin grinned. "'Hugs and cuddles' are still available, but you knew that anyway."

"And I shall take advantage at every possible opportunity," Shelagh replied.

They spent the afternoon taking as much advantage of the other's presence as possible. It was a peculiar arrangement that had arisen between them, almost no lust at all, just need, and surprise at the unexpected conclusion to recent events. All housework was neglected, Shelagh deciding that for once there were more important things going on in her life. The evening meal was 'freezer surprise', Shelagh remembering belatedly that she had been planning to make more bread today. However much I want to spend my days wrapped around him, we're going to have to get back into some sort of routine tomorrow, or we'll run out of everything. He's becoming more and more able to help me, though, and that will make the work go quicker.

They did wash and dry the dishes, though, and retired early - although not to go to sleep, initially - and eventually, after much gentle lovemaking, they drifted off, lulled by the rain which was still pounding down outside.