After a somewhat restless night that passed mercifully without any dreams I remembered, I went to see Florence in the office on Monday morning, after Sandra had helped me again to get my make-up perfect, but I was learning fast. I had mostly done it right, Sandra did only some little corrections. At the “What Else” office the blonde receptionist asked me who I was and looked quite surprised when I said that I was Monique, the directrice technique. Florence came to take me to her office and we talked about what I needed to do. She had talked to her friend and told me the quickest way to get settled in would be to get a UK driving licence, that anybody would accept as proof of identity. To be able to change my name from the name in my German licence to Monique Madelaine I would have to make a deed poll, a legal paper that we could write up together and have her, Florence, and Abigail witness, in which I declared my former name and the new one. With a deed poll I could then go directly to a DVLA office and demand my new licence.

That was what we did. But before Florence and I made four originals that we all signed, one for me to keep, one for the DVLA and one for the bank for a new account to pay my salary into, I asked her to tell me what the production would be. Florence told me that there would be a meeting with the team of directors, of whom I was now part, the next Monday, when there would finally be the revelation of the concept and the script. I asked about the plans for the Tour, that was to follow the year in the West end, but Florence was so vague about it, that I assumed they had no real plan yet. I would have to change that next Monday. If my idea of saving a lot of the cost for sound and lighting was to carry weight, we needed to know where the show would be going, so that I could send a team of my girls (Yes, I already thought of them as my girls) to take measurements, collect data on the structural stability of stages and ceilings to calculate suspension points and possible reinforcements of floors … the list was quite long. Florence seemed to see things working in my mind as she giggled and said:

“Monique, it looks as if your mind is going 20 miles a minute.”

“Yes, on four different parallel tracks at the same time.” I replied with a laugh “You’ll be amazed at the amount of stuff I’ll want to know on Monday.”

“Sounds like you’ll need a PA.”

“Nah, I’ll train one or two of my girls.”

“Oh,” Florence laughed out loud “they are YOUR girls already?”

“Looks like that is the way I think about them.” I giggled.

Florence playfully bumped my hip.

“I think I know at lest one of the candidates.”

I think I actually pouted.

“Do you now? How could that be?” I teased.

“I have the reliable information, Monique, that one of our directors has a major crush on a certain would be tomboy.” she teased me back.

Then she made a copy of my employment contract and took me to the bank What Else Productions used, where I immediately got an account as Monique Madelaine LeHote, since Florence herself paid a cheque over eight thousand pounds from What Else directly into my account I was able to draw enough cash for a week, by which time the bank would have a credit card ready for me. Florence had to go on to some other appointments and so I went straight towards the German embassy to try my luck with my passport.

But on the way I found some information on the closest DVLA outlet and went there first. I had to leave my German licence there, but instead I instantly got a paper, that said my driving licence was being produced and that I, Monique Madelaine LeHote was licensed to drive any car, motorbike or truck up to 7.5 ton total weight and with a trailer to boot. My license would be in the post within a week. That had been easier than expected, so I went to the embassy in good hope.

That was a mistake. First of all I did not have an appointment, so I had to wait for more than an hour and a half. But the real shock came when I actually got to speak with an advisor. Having asked about the passport he explained that – of course – they would issue a new passport with the appropriate photo, but only in the original male name. I could demand a name change, but that would go to the administrative court in Berlin for the reason, that even though there now was a Transsexuellen Gesetz, a name change was not possible without a legal procedure, because the registration law said, that the name of a person had to be an unmistakable indication of the persons sex, and since I had no proof of an operation I was certainly male. So no female first names, until the court had decided if I had the right to call myself female.

For that I would need two independent psychiatric assessments, that clearly stated that I had lived for two years as a woman and that there was no chance of me changing my mind again. I then asked about an artists name and the passport officer asked, if I had any published books or any other proof I was an artist by the name of Monique Madelaine. When I explained about being the lighting designer (that seemed to me more likely to be accepted as an artist than a technical director), the man told me to come back once the show was playing with a program leaflet, that listed me as lighting designer. Before I could produce that, there would not be an artist’s name in my passport.

I was getting more and more frustrated. Here I was, a German citizen and I had exchanged my German driving license for an English one in the name of Monique Madelaine without a problem, and yet the German embassy refused to ad an artist’s name to my passport. The man was simply not to be persuaded.

Disappointed and angry I made my way to the tax office. For the NHS I knew I would have to register with a GP. At least the tax office was not a problem, after they saw the employment contract they knew they’d be milking me for a considerable amount of taxes and I have never seen a government outfit refuse a possibility to get at some of our money. So at least for the DVLA and the UK tax man I was officially Monique Madeline LeHote, a woman. I would have to ask Sandra and May about a GP.

In the end the day had not been too bad, I thought finally. I had some money, actually quite a bit of money, a new driving licence was in the making and I was registered as a UK tax payer. Screw the German authorities. If Janet and Ricardo brought my stuff over, I’d be happy here for a while and once I had enough money together, I’d simply have myself operated and provide medical proof for not being a man and they would have to (willing or not) issue a new passport for me as a woman with a new name. If all failed I could ask for British citizenship.

It was still reasonably early in the day, so what was I to do now? Do a bit of shopping on my own? Did I dare? To be honest I did not. Instead I went back to the West end, where I asked to see the technical director of the place. Being asked who I was I replied I was Monique LeHote, the woman What Else Production had hired for their show. The doorman actually remembered me and Florence, as he had called our cab on Saturday and so I was led to the office of a guy, who was at least 20 years my senior. He did not look very busy at all, which indicated that there was a well oiled established production running here. He smiled as he greeted me at the door and offered to take my coat, all gentleman of the old school. I rewarded him with a sweet smile. Was I really that much of a girl now? He waited gallantly for me to sit first, oh my, there were so many things I had to get used to quickly. I sat demurely crossing my legs and he sank back into his comfy chair behind the desk.

“What can I do for you, love? It is not often that I get such pleasurable visits in my office.”

I could not help a giggle.

“Well,” I said “I just signed a contract with What Else for the all female production, of which, to be honest, I do not even know the theme yet.”

He laughed.

“And what, young lady, will be your job there?”

“I am the technical director, lighting designer and chief technician.”

His eyebrows went up.

“How old are you, sweetie?”

“I am a little over thirty.” I said “Thanks for the nice compliment. I have already been the technical director of two theatre festivals and I was the founder and managing director of one of Germany’s most well known producers of touring equipment for bands almost ten years ago.”

“Respect!” he said with a grin “Why can’t I be twenty years younger? But seriously ...”

“Monique.” I said

“But seriously, Monique, it seems quite an adventurous thing to do to take on such a project at your age. Well, as long as your production is here in the house, I’ll give you all the help I can.”

Now it was my time to grin.

“That is very sweet of you ...”

He chuckled and held out his hand over the desk:

“Name’s Will.”

I shook his hand.

“It’s a pleasure, Will.”

“Shall I show you around, Monique?”

“That would be lovely.”

We left his office after he had told his PA that he was going to show me around and he gave me an in depth tour of the theatre. When I started asking him about certain structural details his eyes went wide.

“What are your plans there, girl?”

“Will, I know they want a twelve months’ tour around the UK after the year here. My plan is to build a rig, that can be assembled in slightly varying sizes to accommodate the different venues on tour as well as the show here.”

I could see his respect growing even more.

“You’ve done things like that before in the rock industry, I assume?”

“Yes, Will. The largest rig was 1200 KVA.”

“My goodness, that is about four times the capacity of this theatre.”

“Hmm.” I hummed with a smile.

“Damn and blast, I can see why they hired you, Monique. How on earth did they find you?”

“The lady that organised the first of the two festivals I worked for is a friend of Abigail’s. She recommended me.”

“Word of mouth, huh? You must be really good, girl.”

I blushed in return to his compliment.

“Intelligent and modest.” Will said “I wish my daughter was like you.”

Well, I thought, he certainly has no idea about the boy underneath. But then was Magna still there? Sure enough all his professional experience was there, but why did I feel so much more confident as Monique? ‘Because’ said a little voice in the back of my mind ‘you are now complete.’ So that was it? I had never been my whole true self? I could well relate to that. Now I was going to show what Monique was able to do with the background of Magna’s experience and the loving touch of a woman. I was more and more looking forward to this.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Will asked with a smile.

“Oh Will,” I sighed “this is going to be such a wonderful adventure!”

“Come, I’ll invite you for a coffee and a bit of cake.”

We returned to his office and his PA brought us an actual cafetière and Will got out a box with what he said was his wife’s speciality, chocolate coffee cake. It was amazing and the coffee really good.

“You are not really French, Monique, are you? Or how did you lose that cute accent French girls normally have?”

“No, Will, I am German by birth but with quite remote Breton ancestry. My full name is Monique Madelaine LeHote.”

“And at some stage you have been in an English school.” That was not a question but an observation.

“Yes, at thirteen.”

“That explains it then. At that age you just soak things up, if you are interested.”

“Yes, I wanted to learn as much English as I could in the six months of the exchange. I am now sharing the flat here with the daughter of my host from that time. Sandra and I remained friends. Your wife’s cake is a true delight, Will.” I said while licking my fingers.

“You’ll have to come and visit us at home one day, Monique. I think Hannah will like you a lot.”

“And we will probably see quite a lot of each other in the year to come. I am glad I took the time today to say hello.”

“You are very welcome, Monique. Can’t beat a pretty face for lighting up an old man’s working life.”

“If your compliments are anything to go by, Will, you are anything but an old man.”

He laughed.

“It will be a real pleasure to have you around, girl.”

“Thank you, Will. I am off now. I still need to settle in my new flat share. Three days ago I did not even know that I’d get the job, so things are a bit rushed. See you soon.”

I left Will’s office with a light heart. He would be nice to work with. His fatherly attitude suited me well. No sexual undertones here. And he had unquestioningly accepted me as female. I happily sought out the Central line to change into the Northern later for Archway and the bus to Muswell Hill, the German embassy all but forgotten.