I guess it took me six weeks at teachers college to decide being a teacher was a career suitable for someone else. Still I was a teacher three years before I did anything about it. One morning I started screeching at a student for being late to class, and I sounded so much like 'Baroness Black Skirt' that it motivated me to start looking through the employment classifieds, that very day.

Eventually I finished up a journalist, writing the social column for the tribune. Our circulations are good and on the up. My non-de-plume and ultra ego 'Caprice Savoy' is a hit with the readers. His cutting assessments of the social set at work and play makes quite a splash on the street. Although, in the polite circles of society the term gutter press is bantered about regularly for some of the more revealing exposures.

For myself, I write the entertainment pages under my own name, Jennifer Priestly, nothing flash just a few book reviews and what's hot at the movies. The editor keeps it that way to conceal who, Caprice Savoy actually is, and it leaves me free to ply my real trade writing cutting social articles.

Those in the know have made up a charming nickname of me, 'Butt Boy.' It is rather clever; as the insiders use it openly, to thank me in front of everyone by acknowledging I would crawl through garbage to get a juicy take on someone. As for the rest, they think it is an unflattering sexist label, reserved for a fairly useless, mature yet junior, single female on the newspaper staff; who gets thrown scraps of stories and has to cleanup and carry tea; sexism is not altogether rare in the corridors of journalism. But not to worry, all this gets me through doors, allowing me to watch and hear the bitchy gossip without the slightest suspicions coming my way. I'm quite sure many of the often outraged, feel sorry for me, while wishing festering spots on the allusive Caprice Savoy and his sexist editor.

On the private front, my life is a total mess, and without hope. I live in a bed-sit, alone, save for half eaten take-away and multiple almost empty alcohol bottles that rotate regularly. Even my cat chose to move next door and live with the two gay guys some time ago. They care for him much better then I do. If it comes down to it, they care for me much better then I do, sitting me at their table and feeding me fresh vegetables with all the trimmings every once in a while. I suspect it may be just to let me have supervised visitation access to my cat, perhaps they do it to get me out of lounging around, drinking in nothing but underwear every weekend. Either way I appreciate their support, the three of them are the only people in the world I look forward to meeting and can truly label as my friends.

I have been through several relationships, and one husband, to get down here in my life. They all ended in tears, and broke my heart almost beyond recovery. In my late twenties, I even tried a 'special' girl friend, for some time. That too ended in tears, her tears, and it broke my heart when I realised how completely I had broken hers.

%%%%

The note on my desk, from the editor said, and I quote, "Butt boy, Get you arse out to see what this is all about." It was scribbled across a press release for an author promoting her new book, titled, 'The Myths Behind the Veil' the forth novel to some author, SoulmAz Khanum.

The press release said, 'The Myths Behind the Veil' is a best seller in France, and is sweeping the western world.

Ms Khanum, had an impressive resume:

Bachelor of Arts and Entertainment from the University of Tehran

Bachelor of Media Studies from Bu-Ali-Sina University

Master of Media Studies Bonn University

Doctor of Philosophy with a major in literature Sorbonne University

Fluent in seven languages and currently a reader of literature, at the Sorbonne faculty of literature studies.

If that wasn't enough to make me sick, she has been happily married for twenty-two years; has two teenage children, a boy and a girl. Her husband is a principle violinist with the Orchestra of Paris and from her photo, she is drop dead gorgeous to boot.  

It also says, SoulmAz loves Iran, it being her home, although she now lives permanently in France, as living in Iran offends her husband. Who is also an Iranian native, but will not live anywhere that doesn't allow his partner or daughter to hold a driver's licence or pursue any activity, as their heart desires.

The press release also explained how SoulmAz likes to unwind and collect her thoughts by driving a BMW Z3 Roadster through the French countryside with the top down. The car, the fourth love in her life, was a gift from her family for her thirty-fifth birthday.

I just think 'shit,' while making an appointment to interview, 'the bitch,' and finish my day with my Caprice hat on; a juicy story about a socialite's wife having it off with both the gardener and the neighbour's teenage son.

On the way home I drop into a bookstore to buy a copy of 'The Myths Behind the Veil' to prepare for the interview.

I walk into my flat and wade through the pizza boxes, etc searching for the kitchen table to unload my shackles. Something is wrong all the take away wrappers are on the floor, I was sure some should be on the table; it's the law of averages. Wait, the table has a book on it, titled 'The Myths Behind the Veil' opened at page forty-seven. With a Post-it note saying simply, 'read,' written in stylish, confident handwriting.

The scene is a school bathroom with two girls sitting on the floor one trying to help the other survive the onset of an uncertain future. I skipped dinner and read most of the night. Even forgetting my 'walk on' role; this novel is a best seller; "What a writer! Oh wow, SoulmAz. What have you done? All these years I've been worrying about you, for no reason." On the last page there is another Post-it note in the same handwriting saying, "Jennifer, I'm so glad I have finally found you, again. Sorry I missed you, tonight. Don't be alarmed about the locks, the charming guys next door let me in. ---- Jennifer, we have to talk; you are living like an Iranian goat herder! - Until tomorrow, your loving friend (a big kiss), SoulmAz"

I finished reading the page, wiping back the tears. Before I had a shower and went to bed, I cleaned up my flat.