Chrysalis Turns to Butterfly

"Yes, my dear. We have to decide the subsidies for fruit farmers over the next financial year. There is a certain amount in the budget and the French, as usual are trying to bag it all."

"That seems unfair."

"Not according to the French. Their argument will be that as they have more fruit farmers than anyone else, they should have the Lion's share. Of course what they don't tell you is that they are counting as fruit farmers even the smallest of plots as small as half an acre, with ten apple trees. Thus they can subsidise inefficient farming that under normal circumstances would not be viable. The French view the EU as a Piggy Bank into which they can dip whenever it suits. Unfortunately it's mainly us and the Germans who fill the Piggy Bank!"

"They don't admit that, do they?"

"Oh no. We know that and they possibly know that we know, but it will never be discussed openly."

"Why? Why can't you challenge them with it?"

"Politics, my dear. The Foreign Office doesn't want it known just how much we know about them."

"It sounds as if you are treating them as an enemy." Charles looked at her in astonishment.

"Marion! They are the enemy. They always have been, even when they were supposed to be on our side. We have been fighting them one way or another for nearly a thousand years!"

Marion knew that if she asked more questions Charles would harangue her with a long speech so wisely she left it there, although she did wonder how he would ever get to an accommodation with the French given his attitude.

Being a good wife, she had everything ready for him and his cases packed by Friday. Senior Civil Servants didn't travel as other folk travelled. When Charles boarded the Eurostar at St. Pancras for Brussels he would only carry his brief case. His accompanying under-secretary would carry the diplomatic bag. The cases Marion had packed were collected by a Government car on Saturday and would be driven to Brussels with a security man. There his clothes would be unpacked, pressed if necessary and hung up by a Valet from the Embassy. Charles would be insulated from the petty procedures that ordinary travellers had to endure day in and day out. The only one who would travel with less concern would be the Minister, an elected representative who knew even less than the Civil Servants who advised him. The discussion didn't need a Minister, but if he were not there the other nations attending would be deeply offended. Charles had spoken of the ineffectual presence of the politicians quite a lot. She smiled to herself. Civil Service it may be, but thoughts most uncivil were endemic.

With her husband gone, Marion gave some thought to what evening would suit for her dinner engagement. It didn't take long for her to decide on Wednesday evening. If she chose the Monday she would appear too eager; Thursday would look as if she didn't care, so Wednesday was just right. She phoned Sylvie on Monday just after nine in the morning.

"Hello Sylvie, its Marion Urquhart."

"Hi Marion. How are you?"

"I am well, thank you. I have thought about Guy's invitation and if it's convenient for him I thought Wednesday evening would suit. Could you ask him for me, or give me a number where I can contact him?"

"One moment, Marion." She put the phone down. Marion heard movement, a door opening and then a loud knocking. She heard another door open then some muffled voices and then more footsteps. Finally the phone was picked up.

"Marianne!" It was Guy.

Marion was flustered. Her immediate thought was that Sylvie and Guy lived together, a little flame of jealousy flickered until common sense told her that Guy meant nothing to her.

"Oh! Guy. You surprised me."

"Sorry about that, Marianne. Of course! We didn't tell you. Our Flats are next door to each other. So Sylvie just knocked on my door when you phoned."

"That's convenient." She answered tonelessly.

"Yes." Guy went on. "The family owned the building so when it became vacant it seemed sensible to convert the top floor into Flats for us. Sylvie took over the ground floor for her boutique."

"What do the family say about that arrangement?"

"Well, apart from Mum, Sylvie and I are the family now. Mum has the third Flat. So we can keep an eye on her."

"And she on you, presumably." Guy laughed.

"Well if she does she never says anything. Sylvie tells me that I will have the pleasure of your company for dinner on Wednesday evening. I am looking forward to it."

"So am I, Guy. I can't be too late as I will have to catch the train back to Frant. I can never find anywhere to park in Tunbridge."

"No problem. We have parking at the back of the building. That's if you wish to drive in."

"If that isn't a problem for you. It would suit me very well."

"I'll book a table. But for now Sylvie is hopping up and down so I suspect she wants to talk. I'll see you Wednesday evening. What time?"

"Say seven?"

"Seven it is."

Sylvie came back to the phone.

"Hello again Marion." Then the phone shifted and Marion heard her say. "Off you go, Guy. This is girl talk, nothing to do with you." Marion heard Guy mutter something and the door closing. Then Sylvie was back.

"I've got a lovely dress for you; it's very, very Marianne. He'll be salivating all evening."

"Now Sylvie. I saw some of your dresses, and they seemed to show a great deal of the wearer's body with very little fabric. I don't wear stuff like that and I am not intending to get Guy salivating all evening. It's not what you seem to imagine."

"Would I do that to you? No it's what Marianne would wear, suggesting but not showing, sophisticated and cool, although your escort will be heated."

"Sylvie!" Marion warned. Sylvie giggled.

"Don't worry; I was just teasing a little." She became businesslike. "Now you're going to park behind the building I gather. Do you remember the way here?"

"Yes, well from the station I do. I shall be coming in from the south so I can make a detour to the station and from there I shall be fine."

"Come past the Boutique and you will see an entrance about fifty yards further on. Turn right into that and then turn right through the ornate iron gates. That's ours, so park anywhere. I'll look out for you and come out. Guy is collecting you at seven, so I suggest you get here about five, and then I can get you made up and dressed. Is that ok?"

"I think so."

"Good. See you then."

Marion didn't expect Charles to phone. He explained that these conferences would often go on into the evenings and almost every Embassy would give receptions after the day's business was done vying with each other to provide better food and Champagne. Of course the French Embassy would win the Champagne contest without problem. His not phoning didn't concern her, however for the next two days her nerves had taken over and whenever she had an idle moment her stomach would perform somersaults. Then the ingrained lessons of her youth would tell her that it would be discourteous to let Guy and Sylvie down, especially Sylvie as she had gone to a lot of trouble for her. Sighing deeply she reconciled herself to going. That Wednesday afternoon she took a long bath. At least she hadn't needed to make an appointment with the hairdresser. For many years she had kept her dark hair short and wore it close to her head, being easy to manage that way. A simple vigorous brushing was all she normally needed. Dressing simply in a frock she picked up her bag and with butterflies abounding in her stomach left the house to drive to Tunbridge.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sylvie was waiting for her as she negotiated the tight turn through the ornate gates and indicated for Marion to park next to a black Range Rover. Marion put the drive into Park and got out.

"Hello Marion." Called Sylvie. "You found us alright?"

"No problem. I got worried about the narrow lane just there and those gates but apart from that it was fine."

"Come on in and I'll get you a drink. Wine, Tea or Coffee?"

"Tea please."

Sylvie showed her through the door. A more imposing door than Marion would think suitable for the back door of a retail outlet. Immediately inside Sylvie turned left and took her though another door into the Salon and then into the changing area.

"Make yourself comfortable and I'll get us the tea." Marion took a seat on one of the settees. Sylvie wasn't long and soon returned with a tray bearing the cups, saucers and the tea pot.

"You're going to love this little dress." She told Marion.

"If your emphasis is on little, then I won't wear it." They both laughed and Sylvie shook her head.

"No not in that sense, although I have got some that are so little you will be showing an awful lot of flesh. No it's a little black dress, but really nice. Now what about your legs? Stockings or nude?"

"I thought tights." Marion indicated the ones she was wearing.

"Ugh! No, no. Stockings then." She stopped and thought. "On second thoughts, it's a bit warm tonight and sussies could become a little uncomfortable. I think bare legs will be best. Are you tanned?" Marion shook her head.

"Not too much."

"Ok." Sylvie came to a decision. "I'll do your legs with fake tan, and then we'll do the make-over. Come along Cinderella, you shall go to the Ball tonight." Marion laughed.

"I don't know about Cinderella, I feel more like Lamb to the slaughter."

Sylvie was determined to bring Marion into the twenty first century and in the face of that determination Marion had no defence. In the beauty parlour she was quickly stripped out of her dress revealing her utility bra and panties and her tights.

"How does your husband manage to undress you with those things on?" Sylvie gestured to the tights as she pulled them down and off.

"Charles has never undressed me." Marion replied tightly. "I can do that for myself." Sylvie shook her head.

"So can I. But if your man undresses you it's a lot more fun."

"Fun?"

"Yes. They gently take your clothes off, touching and kissing the skin that is gradually revealed, getting you all hot and tingly, and then when you are naked they look at you with wonder in their eyes; you know they are hard and wanting you. It's a marvellous feeling." Marion was quiet and Sylvie instinctively knew that she had never experienced that particular pleasure.

Marion relaxed in the chair as her legs were sprayed with fake tan. While the spray dried Sylvie buffed and filed her toenails and then packed between her toes with cotton wool before painting them with a rich red nail polish.

"Is that necessary?" She enquired. Sylvie nodded.

"Oh yes. The colour will draw attention to your feet. You have well shaped feet and ankles so use them." Sylvie finished the work. "Now stay still and let them dry. I'll get some more tea, and then we'll start on your face."

An hour later Marion was made up. The transformation was as total as before and she was just as surprised as before. Sylvie looked pleased as well but regarding her friend she suddenly frowned. She left the room for a couple of minutes then came back with a cellophane packet containing something black and lacy.

"Try these on, will you." She asked as she opened the packet.

"What are they?"

"French cut panties. They will work better with the dress I've put out for you; no VPL and they will be more comfortable." She left the room so that Marion could not argue. She knew about VPL, the Finishing School was very strict about visible panty line. Heaving a sigh Marion did as she was requested, or indeed ordered. Sylvie was right; they were more comfortable and cooler.

A few minutes later Sylvie returned. She called out before coming into the parlour.

"Decent?"

"They appear decent in the mirror, but I don't feel decent." Sylvie came into the room carrying a dress.

"That's what they should do. You know, but he doesn't that the treasure is easy to get to. It's a little feminine wile. A sort of one up thing. Now this is the dress. Try it on. Oh and take that bra off. You don't need it." The dress was black and at first it appeared to Marion to be quite proper until with Sylvie's help she drew it up her body, then she blushed. It fitted well, the length was right for her, just to her knees, it had three-quarter sleeves and the bodice came up to her neck, which she approved. However the bodice consisted of two halves which almost met, just being held together by a clip at the top and another just under her breasts. It didn't gap more than an inch at any place but the gap went almost to her waist. In horror she turned to Sylvie who flattened her objections before she voiced them.

"Marianne. You look fantastic in that. Shit! I wished I had your figure."

"But...But." Marion indicated the décolletage. Her Guru indicated that she should turn slightly sideways and then back the other way.

"You're showing no more than if you were in a bathing costume. You're so lucky. If I wore that dress with my boobs it would leave nothing to anyone's imagination. It's exactly what you need; suggestive without showing and sophisticated." Marion was still a little unconvinced. She walked through to the changing room and standing in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in there she practised turning sideways, bending and moving her arms to see what effect it had. Eventually she had to acknowledge that Sylvie, who had followed her, was right and turning to see that smug smile laughed.

"Ok. I shall not be showing off my bits and pieces."

"Guy will be very disappointed. Perhaps next time you will get a little more adventurous.

"What do you mean, next time?"

"If I were Guy, I wouldn't be satisfied with just one evening."

The last part of the transformation was the shoes, the cfms. Silver sandals with a three inch heel, they had a bar across the foot leaving her toes bare, and the buckle straps fastened round her leg just above her ankles. Marion walked up and down getting used to them, the bar emphasised the red of her toe nails. Sylvie stood back and surveyed her creation.

"Perfect. Now you really are Marianne." Was her comment. "You'll wow them tonight." Marion looked doubtful about that, but secretly was very happy with the effect.

"Now I must owe you quite a bit." She delved into her handbag and found her credit card which she proffered to Sylvie. "Don't tell me how much, just run it through and I'll sign."

"It's not that much, Marianne. I suppose four hundred would cover it."

"Sylvie! I didn't come off the last banana boat. It has to be more than that." Sylvie shook her head in denial.

"No. Honestly four hundred will cover it. You're a friend now and I don't make a profit out of my friends. In addition it's my brother who's taking you out and I like to think of him being struck dumb for a change."

"Will he be?" Marion enquired archly.

"Oh yes. He will be."

Guy was indeed struck dumb. Sylvie and Marianne walked to the door at five past seven. Fashionably late. Guy was waiting. It took him a minute to find his voice.

"Marianne. If Millais was alive now he would paint you. You are so lovely." Marianne smiled.

"Thank you, Guy." He opened the door of the Range Rover. The lessons Marion had on getting into and out of cars didn't cover the Range Rover, but she managed to seat herself decorously with Guy holding her hand as she did so. Before closing the door Sylvie leaned in and kissed Marianne on the cheek.

"Have a great time." She whispered.

CHAPTER FIVE

Marion got into her bed at half past midnight surrounded by an aura of good feelings. She couldn't believe that a meal could be such a great experience and so different to her dining experience with Charles. Charles was very formal especially when he was with others from the Department. They were very formal too and the conversation was usually work orientated. They would talk about people that Marion and the other wives didn't know and find wit in the most obscure references frequently making comments in Latin which she didn't understand. The table was always traditional the sexes seated alternately and husbands seated apart from wives.

Guy tonight had shown her a different world, a world where a man could converse with a lady, giving her his complete attention. A world where he would ask and listen to her, really listen to her being interested in what she had to say. He didn't dismiss her arguments as foolishness, taking her points and asking her to illustrate her ideas. He was amusing with a droll sense of humour; he made fun of people's habits but was never hurtful as he made fun of his own idiosyncrasies as well. She was warmed by his frequent compliments, making her feel like a precious jewel to be admired and cosseted. He was cheeky in equal measure, taking every opportunity to view her from the side. She knew why and chastised him and then laughed at his reply.

"Marianne, would not any man try to catch a tiny glimpse of Heaven if he could?" Guy later admitting that her dress was too well cut to satisfy his curiosity. When she was about to get into her car to drive home, he caught her gently by the shoulders and kissed her lips softly. It wasn't a demanding kiss yet still asked a question. Marion would need to answer that question although she wasn't certain what it was. As she snuggled into bed her libido asked her wouldn't she like to kiss him again and perhaps reward him with a better view of her breasts at some time? Marion would say no, but Marianne told her yes, the look of wonder and delight on his face would make her feel so good.

Charles arrived home earlier than she thought on Friday afternoon. It would appear that the discussions broke up on Thursday evening as the Italians had to get back to Rome, something to do with yet another constitutional crisis with their Prime Minister. As usual the car had collected him from St. Pancras station and brought him home despite the fact that some Eurostar services stopped at Ashford in Kent, just thirty miles away. The car made a round trip of over a hundred miles the attitude being that they had the car and the driver who would be paid anyway so it made little difference. The Civil Service, along with many other organisations including the BBC seem to believe that London was the be all and end all in the United Kingdom. The only place that mattered; that they only need concern themselves with what happened in the Metropolis and its environs. That weather forecasts and travel information for any other part of the Country were of little use or relevance. It would never occur to them that travellers from abroad would have an interest in any other destination than London. Therefore the Ashford stop was ignored.

As she hadn't been certain of his arrival time, Marion had prepared a cold meal of Salmon and salad. Over the meal she asked Charles how the negotiations were going.

"We haven't started the negotiations yet." He told her with despair in his voice. "The week has been taken up by opening statements by all member States. They won't be finished until the middle of next week. You know how these Politicians like to hog any glimmer of Limelight. They will leave when that is done and let us get down to the real business."

"Oh so you haven't tackled the French yet."

"No, my dear. That will come later, although we have got a shot to fire across their bows. We have had some quiet talks and agreed with the Germans that we will push for a strict definition of what is a Fruit farm. The Germans think that it should not be described as such if there is less than five acres given over permanently to fruit growing. We favour ten acres but will settle for five if we have to."

"And what will the French say about that?"

"They will not say anything at first, well not until they have got over their apoplectic fit. Then they will retire, to take advice." Charles smiled at the thought.