Peter swallowed his pride and performed a little curtsey before turning and returning to his meal. He scooped his dress and sat, telling Paul that they’re filming them when they wait their table. “No shit Sherlock.” Paul grumbled. “They probably filmed us dressing each other.”

“You reckon?” Paul naively asked. Peter just gave him a look before shovelling another forkful of biriyani and pilau rice into his mouth. “What if it did come out?” Paul eventually asked.

“We’d just have to tell the truth.” Paul shrugged. “No one gives a shit about the village hall windows any more and we were only ten… we were blackmailed into this and they’d be in more trouble than us.”

“It’s not my Mum and Dad that bothers me.” Peter replied. “It’s everyone else.” he said, before suggesting that the best case scenario if it did come out would be, “…to pretend to be trans …you know, a transsexual.” he explained.