Writing Drivel (aka Bike) Part 591 by Angharad

The next morning, I woke up suddenly remembering I had to take Trish to see her shrink, Dr Felicity ‘Fliss’ Edwards. I checked my diary, and it was right. Damn, I was going to do all sorts of things, plait her hair and so on as well as try and appear beyond reproach myself. Either my arm was improving or my pain threshold had suddenly risen. I showered and the warm water seemed to ease things a bit, The girls came in with me and they sort of dried themselves enough to be able to go out to Simon, who helped finish them and then dress them.

He checked I was okay, which I was, before going back downstairs. I managed to dress with a little help from Trish. I wore my YSL suit and the white lacy blouse. Okay in March it was optimistic, but with only a short walk to the clinic from the car park it would be fine. I had a brolly in the car anyway.

“Are you going to drive yourself, then?” asked Si.

“Ye…oh bugger, I can’t can I?” I probably could, but if I’d had an accident, the insurance would not have been too impressed. “Could you? Please.”

“So do we take Meems with us, or leave her with Tom?”

“If you don’t mind walking her about in the hospital, she can come too.” I didn’t like the idea of her being left out because she was the baby of our family–Puddin’ isn’t our baby, and isn’t home yet anyway.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take the portable DVD player and some kids films, just in case.”

“Post is here, Cathy,” Tom handed me a couple of envelopes. One as from the taxman–just what I wanted, and the other was from Smedley Hydro, whatever that was. I opened it and to my joy inside was my new birth certificate.

I pulled Simon into the kitchen and after shutting the door, showed him the document. “Wow, now you really are female. Congratulations, Miss Watts. He gave me a loving kiss and hugged me gently.

“Thanks, Si. Sometimes I wonder what I see in you, then you kiss me like that, and my tummy turns to jelly.”

He looked slightly bemused. “Was that an insult or a compliment?”

“It was a declaration of love, you meathead.”

“Oh, right, glad you told me. Put that somewhere safe. I’ll go and distract the girls while you show Tom.” He pecked me on the cheek, “I’m really pleased for you, end of the journey eh?”

“Well this part of it, yes. Thanks for coming along with me, it’s been a great help.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it. Now we can get married.”

“Once we can agree upon a few things.”

“I surrender, you can have your little country church as long as we do a repeat up in Scotland.”

“Okay, I accept your surrender and it’s conditions.”

He winked at me then went out to supervise the girls. He was growing up at last and turning into a very good parent. I went and showed Tom, who was absolutely delighted at my piece of paper. I thought it ironic, that a non-medical condition, has a medical treatment but a legal cure. I had now officially changed sex. I was now legally female. Part of me wanted to cry in relief, but that would have wrecked my mascara, so I managed to hold back.

“I’m going to take us out for dinner tonight to celebrate,” Tom chuckled.

“What do we tell the kids?”

“We don’t tell them anything yet, you don’t know how long they’ll be with you. If it’s long term, then it would probably be worthwhile, but otherwise, would they really understand anyway? I suppose Trish might, but then again, she might not. Let her see you as a female role model, rather than a transsexual one.”

“Okay, Daddy mine, I accept your wise counsel.” I opened the other one and it was a letter from the taxman stating that from now on my records would be held by Cardiff 1, and would not be available to any other tax office in full.

I found it a bit stable door, the horse had long since bolted, my local tax office knew about my change of status anyway, I’d written to them two years ago, so did Social Security and all the other official bodies who needed to know. So the big secret was hardly that in the first place. Oh well, I suppose they were trying to be protective of our records, so I wouldn’t complain. Ten years ago, people were still throwing themselves on the barricades of the European Court at Strasbourg, trying to get equal rights for transsexuals, so this was progress.

I managed with a struggle, to style my hair and do my makeup. I still had to use the sling, but at least I didn’t need surgery like Lancie boy. Still this time I was leading him, I broke my collar bone first; he led they way in having his nuts off before I did. I sniggered at my own little joke. I had no idea if he had or not, but presumed he’d had to with cancer of the goolies. It wasn’t funny really, but it had caught me on the funny bone.

I tidied up Trish and she looked quite smart and presentable as a four/five year old girl. She was actually quite a pretty kid and not at all boyish in looks. “Where are we going, Mummy?”

“To see Dr Edwards, you know, your shrink.”

“Oh,” she said and her expression changed from happy to glum.

“What’s the problem, don’t you like her?”

“She made me cry last time.”

“Did she? Would you like me to sit in?”

“Oh yes, will you, Mummy?”

“I’ll try my hardest,” I smiled back at her. I squirted some of her scent on her, and did myself with my own. At least we looked and smelt presentable.

Simon drove us to the hospital and he and Meems stayed in the car, she was quite happy to watch a cartoon on the DVD player, so Trish and I braved the squally wind to walk to the children’s clinic.

“Patricia Watts to see Dr Edwards.”

“You mean Patrick?”

Here we go again. “I thought this had been sorted. This is my daughter, Patricia, if you call her anything else, I shall create such a stink the smell will last for years. Do you understand?”

“Are you threatening me?” asked the bristling receptionist.

“No, I wouldn’t dream of it. I am just stating the law of cause and effect. Piss me off and deal with the consequences.”

“I’m not sure who you think you are?”

“My family are quite important and can make lots of trouble.”

“I’m sure they are, Mrs Watts.”

“Try Cameron, as in Lords and Ladies.”

“Oh,” she coloured up.

“So if you could just amend her records, after all it should say preferred or calling name, and hers is Patricia.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you so much, you’ve been a great help.” I smiled sweetly, well like a tigress who’s just eaten an antelope and is going off for a sleep. The receptionist was furiously typing on the computer, I hoped changing Trish’s notes, but probably warning the good doctor, that Trish’s parent was a bit of a handful. But then she knew that from our conversation on the telephone. Now I was warmed up, I was quite looking forward to the next obstacle and clearing it.

Trish was sitting reading a children’s book to herself, but out loud, blissfully unaware of my campaign of attrition with the hospital records people. I would speak to Dr Rose after this, unless Dr Edwards was able to sort it. After that, all hell would break loose as I pointed Simon at them and said, “Kill.” He can write a nasty letter, and I’m sure having a title counts in this sort of thing. I had been careful not to call myself Lady Cameron–okay, a barrister would accuse me of implying it–so my conscience was clear, sort of.

I sat next to my foster daughter and let her read to me, while I waited for the next move to happen. It didn’t take long…