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I was surprised at the speed of developments. After a few phone calls I was advised that the girls Jennifer and Beatrice would be arriving on the following Tuesday. I talked long and hard with Mrs Bodkin about preparations but she assured me the girls were well clothed and only needed a warm room. I panicked a little but decided it might be best if I provided the barest essentials and then take the girls on a shopping spree to decorate their rooms as they each preferred. Tuesday dawned like a typical autumn day, wet and windy. The fruit trees in the orchard were straining with the abundant fruit and demanding to be harvested but I could only fret about the house and keep peering down the lane to see if they were coming. Fortunately Mrs Bodkin phoned me and I had a lunch prepared as her car finally appeared at the bend in the lane.

The girls burst from Mrs Bodkins Estate Car and hurtled towards the cottage expecting to meet ‘Skipper’. Instead they were a little puzzled to meet with Beverly, Skipper’s ‘housekeeper’.

“Where’s Skipper?” They chorused.

“I’m afraid he’s been called away to the ship. He’ll be away a few weeks.”

The disappointment in their eyes distressed me but I reached out and hugged them both and invited them in for lunch. Mrs Bodkin caught my eye and smiled. As we met in the hall she whispered.

“How do you plan to break the news?”

“I’ve no idea. I’m terrified.”

“Let me know if or when you think of a strategy. I’d like you to run it by me and the psychiatrist.”

“Mm. That’s a bit of a bummer. He didn’t take much to me in the court.”

“It won't be him. Your old friend from London has agreed to come on board. We’re giving you all the support we can.”

“Who the girl who drove us down from the airport.”

“Yes the very same.”

I felt a load falling off my shoulders. After the hearings I had been given all the confidential reports that social services had compiled about me. I had galled me that they had taken it upon themselves to dig into my private life but I found nothing false or accusative. I had been surprised by the London Social worker’s assessment of me. I had genuinely thought she hated me. I hadn’t even known her name until I read her report. Her name was Sandra Smith but Mrs Bodkin said she preferred to be known as Sandie.

“Will this Sandi be coming down to meet us?” I asked.

“When you decide to reveal yourself, yes. She’s got a busy schedule but she has to reacquaint herself with the girl’s circumstances anyway.”

“Why so much fuss. Anybody would think I was the cross-dressed axe murderer.”

“We can’t be seen to be careless or unprofessional. You’ve set a huge precedent here. God forbid if it goes pear shaped. The press would have a field day.”

“Yes. I suppose so. Anyway, let’s eat. That usually breaks the ice.”

I had the girl’s favourite food prepared and they immediately tucked in, so much so that I had to reprimand them.

“Come on now girls. Hold you knives and forks properly. You know Skipper is a stickler for good table manners.”

The girls jaws dropped then they smiled. Jenny spoke.

“Gosh Miss Beverly, you sound just like skipper when we ate in the officers mess.”

“Table manners are important, indeed good manners generally are important. I don’t think Skipper would be pleased if he thought I was letting him and your dear grandma down.”

The girls fell silent and adopted the correct techniques with their cutlery. I smiled and promised them a treat for being good. Mrs Bodkin was struggling to suppress her smile but we made it through lunch and I produced the promised treat. I had of course already intended to include a steamed pudding and custard for desert but the girl’s weren’t to know that. The pudding served as an excellent treat and they demolished it in short order. I had no qualms about good appetites but table manners counted.

-o~O~o-

After lunch the girls dressed for the weather and set out into the orchard to play. In the chilly weather, the high activity of outdoor play would soon burn off any excess calories from the pudding. I completed the custody documents with Mrs Bodkin and she eventually prepared to leave. She gave me one last piece of advice.

“Listen. I’ve watched you when you hug the girls. You’re just not tactile and affectionate enough for a woman. A mother genuinely fondles her children when she hugs them. There’s nothing disgusting in it. Watch me when we say goodbye. My fingers wrap around their little legs and I give them a tight squeeze. Mothers are really tactile with their children. Don’t be afraid, just let your heart rule your head and overcome your own fears. I understand why you’re frightened but that limp wristed handshake you condescended to give them while they were stuck like limpets to your legs, well, frankly it was pathetic. Don’t be afraid! You’re their mother now. That’s an intense emotional bond you know. The kids need that intensity of emotion in your mothering. I know you’re capable of that emotion, I’ve seen you crying enough. Just reapply that emotion to hugging and caring for the children. Enjoy it because it will soon be gone and when they’re older they won’t thank you if you were some sort of cold fish. It’s love they want and love they need! OK!”

My eyes widened with mild surprise but I realised she was right. Mrs Bodkin was a proper goldmine of information and veritable diamonds when it came to excellent advice. The hugging thing was to become the first vital step in me addressing my own fears and hang-ups about being a tranny looking after two beautiful children.

Tearful goodbyes followed as Mrs Bodkin drove away but they were soon forgotten and I showed the girls their new bedrooms.

“Do we get a room each then Miss Beverly?” Squealed Beatrice.

“Yes. These two. However, you have to share the bathroom; it connects to both bedrooms see.”

Jenny and Bea’s eyes widened as they explored their new kingdom, then they set about exploring the house and the outbuildings. They returned later, wide eyed and excited after it had gone dark outside.

“This place is huge! Why d’you call it a cottage?” Asked Jennifer.

“Well it’s really an old country farmhouse but I call it a cottage because it is no longer a farm.

Nearly all the fields have been rented to another farmer. Only the orchard and those two small fields are what’s left of the old farm.”

“And Skipper called it a cottage when he spoke of his dream house when we were on his ship. I always thought cottages were little country houses.” Jennifer observed again.

“Well that used to be what they were, but now lots of people talk of their house in the country as a cottage. This is to distinguish it from their town house. Nowadays, a cottage can be quite a large house, just like this one.”

“Where’s Skipper’s bedroom?” Asked Beatrice.

I hesitated for a moment. The girls had obviously searched the house fairly thoroughly. I could not object, for after all it was now to be their home. A child had a reasonable right to know where their ‘parent’s’ bedroom might be. What was left of ‘Skipper’s clothes’ were squeezed to one side of my walk-in wardrobe. My mind raced as I searched for a reason why there appeared to be none of his clothes around.

“Oh I think he took them up to his flat in London before joining the ship.”

This seemed to satisfy their curiosity and they settled down to a light supper in front of the roaring log fire.

“What shall we do tomorrow?” I asked.

The girls exchanged glances and grinned.

“Shall we pick some of that lovely fruit in the orchard?”

“Yes. That’s a good idea. Now after supper, we’ll go and sort out your bedrooms, OK?”

“Can we watch television first?”

“Only for an hour. It’ll be bed time soon.”

I found myself applying what few childhood rules I ever remembered and a strict rule about bedtime was one. I reflected that despite the strict rules of my early childhood, my parents couldn’t have cared that much for me. Six years of age and they got rid of me, - just like a used rag! Still, I reflected, they had three other children so they wouldn’t miss one, - that is -, me.

The girls sulked a little about going to bed so early but they didn’t seem inclined to raise a fuss. Anyway, the first night in their new home would probably be an adventure. I resolved to phone Mrs Bodkin in the morning.

I had no idea what the new thinking was about children and bedtime. Apparently, most kids now had televisions and computers in their own rooms. I realised that Mrs Bodkin had been very wise to offer me help at any time. Whole generations of kids had grown up during my lifetime of seafaring exile. For tonight however, it was going to be my way. Tomorrow I would consider any ‘adjustments’.

I was worried about bath time as well. Should I behave as any grandmother might, and supervise any bath time activities, or should I let them get on with it? In the end, the girls solved it for me. Jennifer wanted her hair shampooed and Beatrice wasn’t confident enough to do it.

Nervously, I knelt beside the bath and shampooed her hair. It was awkward doing it through the hinged door that enclosed the bath but the advantages of the door into the bath soon became obvious. When the girls rinsed themselves down, the water never splashed onto the bathroom floor. I smiled as I listened to their shrieks of delight as they sprayed each other with the telephone shower nozzle. Grandma Fotheringay hadn’t had a shower, just an old fashioned bath, and on the ship the showerhead was a fixed nozzle attached to the deckhead.

It was the first time they had experienced a flexible shower nozzle so I allowed them to splash and play for a short time.

Finally, I called them to order and gave them huge, warm, fluffy towels through the door. They stepped out with the towels wrapped about them and I was grateful that I was not required for any other further assistance.

As they giggled and squealed in the bathroom, I brought up two cups of chocolate and turned down the bed-sheets then left them to it. I went down stairs thinking that my duty was done. It wasn’t of course. The girls wanted a bedtime story. A brief argument ensued about whose bed should be used for the story so I tossed a coin. Beatrice won and the rule of the coin was to become a family custom every time a dispute arose. Both girls clambered into Bea’s bed and demanded that I join them. I deferred and sat in the bedside chair instead, declaring that I wasn’t in my nighty and shouldn’t get into bed in my daytime cloths. I read ‘Babes in the Wood’ then bid them goodnight.

“Can we sleep in the same bed?” Begged Jenny.

I saw no reason why not and smiled to myself as I considered all the preparations I’d made to give them a room each.

‘Huh so much for kids demanding their own space,’ I smiled as I descended the stairs and settled down to watch my favourite documentary programmes on Sky Television.

In the morning my sleep was shattered by two excited bundles bursting into my bedroom and clambering into my bed. This frightened me, but I dare not show it. As they squeezed up to me, I wondered how I was going to handle this dilemma in the future. Fortunately, my all-in-one sleep suit and fully frilled, full-length nightdress prevented any indecent intimacy but it still worried me. What would Mrs Bodkin say when I told her, as I would have to. After breakfast, the girls went out to pick some fruit whilst I grabbed a chance to garnish advice on the phone.

“Well the shampoo thing was bound to happen,” replied Mrs Bodkin. “From what you tell me, you managed well. Don’t forget, mothers and grandmothers are very tactile with their daughters. It’s what we women do best. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

“So what about the morning thing, when they you know?”

“In truth Beverly I was really hoping they would do that. That is exactly what children do with their parents, especially girls and mothers! Let them cuddle up as close as they like.”

“But what about when they learn I’m Skipper?”

“They’ll probably set their own boundaries. Just don’t cross them. I think that they might not worry too much because you truly present as a woman. I noticed that your figure is changing. Is that the hormones?”

I self-consciously felt my soft rounded butts under my frock and replied ‘Yes’.

“Well, if you continue as you are, the girls might well accept you as you are. Children can be very adaptable but you’ll find that out. Where are they now?”

“They’re out gathering apples plums and pears. It’s nice and sunny but there’s an autumn chill.”

“Good. Try making some fruit tarts with them. That’s the sort of thing that brings kids closer to their parents. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. They want to bring both beds into the same bedroom. All that effort to give them separate rooms and now they want to share. It’s crazy.”

“If that’s all there is, just be thankful. It’ll get harder as they get older. Bye, bye for now.”

“Hold on just one more thing. When they just burst into my bedroom this morning and clambered into bed for a cuddle. I mean there was no warning. What can I do? I mean I was, - well, - you know, - uuuhm, - somewhat indisposed”

I heard Mrs Bodkin let out an involuntary snort then move away from the phone briefly. I heard her chortling as she tried to suppress her laughter. Finally she returned to the phone.

“Oh my God! Are you still capable then? I thought the hormones would have rendered you impotent.”

“Yeah well my endocrinologist is good. All I have to do is go for regular liver checks and blood tests in London every month. She keeps a close track on stuff.”

“Well my advice still remains the same.”

“Which is?”

“Cuddle them. But make sure that they don’t discover anything they’re not yet ready for. Now why don’t you get on with making those tarts? I expect a nice spread when I come back with your lady friend.”

“Who’s that?”

“Sandie, your psychiatrist.”

“Huh. She may have written me a glowing report but don’t think that makes her my friend. She’s still a psychiatrist!”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll get to like her. Well Bye, bye for now and thanks.”

“Thanks for what?”

“The morning thing; it’s the way you put it, just so delicately. ‘I was indisposed!’ Oh that’s priceless I suppose that’s exactly how a lady would try describing her erection! It conjures up some hilarious scenarios. Like an adult ‘Carry On Film!’”

“Oh you’re awful!” I gasped with exasperation. “What did you expect me to call it?”

“Oh Beverly! You’re just so funny. I’ve got to go, see you soon. Enjoy the tarts.”

She put the phone down but not before I heard her shrieking with laughter as the line eventually went click.

So that is exactly how Jenny, Beatrice and I spent our first full day together. The girls became totally engrossed in cooking tarts, crumbles and making sweet custard sauces. My plans for shopping went totally out of the window; however we had some fun later rearranging the beds. It was then I realised that the girls had been through so much together that they needed company at night. Fortunately both bedrooms were amply large enough to accommodate two beds and all the assorted furniture. The other bedroom ended up being a study and remained so until the girls hit their middle teens.

Bathroom routines became fixed and after taking Mrs Bodkin’s advice, I allowed them to come down in their dressing gowns after bathing. This was to drink their coffee and dry their hair. Apparently, drying their hair every night with a hot air blower would damage their hair.

Instead they each snuggled by the fire in the huge armchairs and watched their favourite programmes until about ten o’clock. I realised this did not have any bad effects on their sleep needs because they continued to burst into my bedroom early every morning in plenty of time to get ready for school. By now I had taken to wearing a control panty girdle under my sleep suit, nightdress and peignoir in bed. This made certain that the girls would never accidentally discover anything untoward. The next day, Margaret and Sian came visiting with their two children Martin and Chenille. The kids hit it off immediately and I was truly grateful.

Primary school proved to be the next hurdle. Fortunately my secret was well kept. I passed so well as a woman that everybody presumed I was their only surviving grandmother or elderly aunt I did not disillusion them for only the head mistress knew that the girls were ‘fostered’ out. The girls settled in quickly and I was delighted to learn that they had teamed up with Martin and Chenille. This might prove useful if ever anything about my private condition became public. They might find allies and support if any playground bullying occurred. My fears proved groundless though, for Martin and Chenille knew exactly what their lesbian parental circumstances were and they rarely encountered any prejudice. However that was primary school where stuff like this went over children’s heads. Secondary school might prove more difficult.

For a few weeks things went swimmingly then one Saturday morning Bea asked when Skipper was coming home. When I told her it might be a while she wasn’t satisfied with the answer and started to cry.

“I want to see Skipper,” she sobbed.

The following Monday I was on the phone again to Mrs Bodkin.

“They want him to come home. They want to see him.”

“I’ll be down during the week and I’ll bring Sandie. Have you thought of a strategy?”

“Yes, but it’s not a very good one.”

“Go on! “Try me Run it by me.”

“I could pretend that Miss Beverly has to go and visit her sick aunty and she’s been waiting until Skipper comes home before she leaves. You hold the fort during the afternoon until ‘Skipper’ arrives home. I’ll get changed into ‘Skipper’ then I turn up in a hired car in my uniform just as the girls get home from school. The idea is that they are waiting at home when Skipper arrives. That’s the way it usually happens when a seamen comes home, unless the kids meet him at the airport or station.

I think it’s best we do it at home. My breasts are beginning to show under a cotton uniform shirt and I have to wear a ‘B’ cup bra. I’ll have to wear my uniform jacket.”

“Well you’ve thought that bit through. So then what?”

“Well at least they’ll get to see Skipper and that’s what they really seem to want.”

“Hmm, it seems a bit weird, but weird is what it’s going to be all about. How will you re- introduce them to Beverly?”

“It’s Beatrice’s birthday a week next Saturday. We could organise a fancy dress party and I could dress up as Miss Beverly. Hopefully, the girls will slowly realise that Skipper and Beverly are the same.”

“It seems a bit devious but it’s worth a try. It also gives you an opportunity to present as Miss Beverly. What day does ‘Skipper’ intend to come home? I thought a week next Thursday, that only gives them two days but it’ll be enough to enjoy having ‘Skipper’ home before he demonstrates that he’s really Miss Beverly. On Saturday morning the children can witness my transition as I pretend to dress up as Beverly for the fancy dress party.”

“It’s worth a try. I’ll get hold of Sandie the psychiatrist right now and run it by her.”

“Tell her it’s got to be that Saturday though. Bea’s birthday is just the excuse we need for the fancy dress party.”

“Consider it done. I’ll call you back.”

The next day, Sandie arrived with Mrs Bodkin and discussed my plan whilst the children were in school.

“Well it seems a fairly practical plan’” observed Sandie, “it will enable the girls to see your transition without any sense of threat or unexpected change.”

“I’ll want an adult woman to chaperone the activity. I don’t want any -.”

“Yes, yes Beverly! I perfectly understand your fears,” declared Sandie, “I’ll chaperone the transition exercise. It would be unprofessional of me not to. I’ll come down earlier next week to pretend to be Miss Beverly’s temporary replacement. I’ll be learning the girl’s routine as it where, before Beverly goes to visit her sick aunt. It will give me a chance to see the relationship between you and the girls. Mrs Bodkin is busy with another case all next week but I’m sure she’s love to come to a fancy dress party on the Saturday. If it’s birthday party, there’ll be other children wont there?”

“Yes. Martin and Chenille are coming, and some other friends from school. By the time the other children arrive, I’ll be totally immersed as Beverly. None of the mother’s will realise I’m ‘Skipper’”

“What if Jenny or Bea call you Skipper in front of them?” Asked Mrs Bodkin.

“Damn. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well it’s fancy dress for heaven’s sake.” Declared Sandie.

“It would be better if the regular chaperone was there though.” Observed Mrs Bodkin, “Then none of the mothers could object.”

“You mean, Beverly?” Asked Sandie.

“I could dress as the real Beverly and others would realise that Skipper was fancy dressed as Beverly. You and I are about the same build and I’ve got a fancy dress outfit. Miss Beverly could turn up on the Saturday morning as Sandie leaves. She could say her aunt is better and she didn’t want to miss the party.”

“What about your voice?” I asked.

“It’s fancy dress, I’ll have a ‘pretend voice wont I silly?”

“Oh! Yes. Stupid old me! I’m just so nervous, that’s all.”

“You can put on a pretend voice as well. When you come home as Skipper, just use your old masculine voice, you’ve still got it haven’t you?”

“Uughhumm,” I coughed cautiously and altered the intonation in my voice. The result startled myself as well as the two women.

“Good God! That’s incredible. Is that your natural voice?” Gasped Sandie.

“No it’s my old voice, it’s Skipper’s ship’s captain’s voice from long ago; before I even rescued the girls from the life raft.

My natural voice now is Beverly’s. I was practicing my ‘Beverly’s’ voice long before I made plans for retirement. Beverly’s been a long time in the making. Take the beard for example, that was removed long ago. I was only forty-five when I finally had my entire beard zapped. People wouldn’t notice the changes because I was constantly changing ships. In my head, Skipper has been gone a long, long time, but he’s about to be resurrected. Wait here a minute.”

With that I went up stairs and dug out my uniform with the gold braid on the jacket sleeves. The jacket was a bit tight around the bust and the top button wouldn’t fasten. The trousers were a bit tight around my butt and loose around the waist but I could still get into them. With the peaked cap covering my pinned up, still shortish hair I presented my self for inspection. Sandie’s eyes widened as I re-entered.

“Good God! I could fancy you myself in that uniform.”

“Careful young lady. I’m still a heterosexual male.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me,” replied Sandie,” transvestism is really weird stuff. Some doctors still can’t get their heads around it.”

“Nor can I,” declared Mrs Bodkin, “but I’m learning. Trannies are not the monsters I used to think they were.”

“Well that’s a relief. I’ve done a lot of good for the sisterhood then.” I chuckled again in my deepest voice.

For a brief second both women were silent at the sound of my old captain’s voice then Sandie laughed uproariously. Mrs Bodkin also chuckled for she had learned a lot about transvestism since dealing with my case.

“Well, Skipper’s not a problem then;” observed Mrs Bodkin, “no wonder the girls thought so much of you! This could work!” She declared.

“Yes I think it might,” added Sandie. “We’ll give it a whirl. Truly Beverly, your camouflage skills are amazing.”

“Duh!” I Grinned. “I’m a tranny. I’ve been playing camouflage all my life!”

“Oh yeah! Of course. How stupid of me,” Grinned Sandie.

With the decision taken, I pulled out all the stops to make the party a success. Margaret and Sian pitched in and by the following week things were in hand.

-o~O~o-

Sandie arrived a day early on the Monday because she secretly wanted to savour the happy atmosphere. She was also amazed to see how Beverly coped with the girls.

“They really like you don’t they? I loved your bedtime story technique. It’s almost as though I was in Wonderland. Your a good story teller you know,” she observed that Monday evening after the girls were finally asleep.

“I try. They’ve had enough horror in their lives. I have to pick my stories. Peter Pan is a definite no-no. They still won’t talk about the pirate attack you know and they never mention their parents. It’s awful.”

“That’s not unusual. They might never talk about it. It’s a psychiatric defence mechanism. If they were forced to talk about it, the trauma might send them over the edge. You don’t try to pump them about it do you?”

“Hell no! Definitely not! I never mention it.”

“Good. If they ever do broach it, just listen. Don’t question them, don’t prompt them, and don’t do anything that might elicit a response just listen carefully and remember as much as you can. . Then please phone me immediately.”

“You’re the doc. Your word is my command. D’you want a mug of chocolate?”

“Please that would be nice.”

We drank our chocolate in silence then made our way to our bedrooms. I showed Sandie her rooms and indicated the bathroom across the hall.

“It’s not en-suite I’m afraid. We don’t run to hotel standards at the front of the house just yet. The girls share a bathroom and I have one en-suite, but other guests have to share I’m afraid unless they choose the back of the house. All the bedrooms are en-suite on that side of the landing but they are smaller and there are no decent views from the windows. However tonight you’ve got the whole rear of the house for yourself.”

“That’s fine. See you in the morning.”

The usual earthquake announced the early morning cavalry charge as the girls stormed into my bedroom for their regular morning cuddle. The noise woke Sandie and she knocked discreetly on my bedroom door.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” I replied as I sat up in bed with the girls squeezed either side of me.

Sandie’s smile widened as she saw the picture and she sat on the side of the bed. “Are you girls looking forward to Skipper coming home?”

The girls squealed with delight as they chorused ‘Yes!’ and squirmed tighter to me as they savoured the anticipated arrival.

“And what about your Party Bea?”

“It’s going to be fancy dress. I’m going as a pirate queen.”

Sandie’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise as she and I exchanged questioning glances. We would obviously discuss this later for I might give Sandie an ‘in’ to the girl’s shared pirate trauma.

“A Pirate queen. Well that will be interesting won’t it?”

“And what about you?” Sandie asked Jenny.

“I don’t know I’m going to ask Skipper when he gets home.”

“That’s a good idea.”

With that I stirred and my night attire rustled silkily on the satin sheets.

“Right girls,” I commanded, “back to your bedrooms. Time for school.”

Reluctantly the girls left and Sandie nodded towards my night attire.

“So feminine? All those frills and lace? And this bedroom, very girly!”

“It’s what I am. This tranny loves frills and lace. Anyway, you keep telling me if I’m living as a woman I’ve got to make it realistic.”

“Not very practical though.”

“It is. There’s three layers see. I’m nice and warm.”

I held open my peignoir for Sandie to see the full length flowing nightdress and then raised the hem to reveal my all-in-one sleep suite. Sandie’s face broke into a smile.

“Oh that’s nice. D’you know. I’m really jealous. Isn’t it uncomfortable, all that lace and ribbons?”

“It’s what I like. I’m a transvestite remember. I like the silky sensations and the satin sheets.”

“Have the girls commented about it.”

“Yes. In fact they asked for the same. You saw their nighties; same materials and colours, just a different children’s design. “

“And when they cuddle up to you?”

“They just squeeze up and hug me. I’ve got a strong control panty-girdle on underneath just in case little fingers accidentally get too close. But the all-in-one sleep suit prevents any possible accidental intimacy. I’ve never thought about any sensuality or that sort of stuff. I obviously worry about any reactions I might have but I don’t feel anything sexual towards them. They seem to like squeezing up to me. Would little girls notice soft and silky?”

“Only to feel nice in bed. It doesn’t really gain any sexual connotations until they’re older and dress for the ball. Then it’s mainly dress designs, materials and looking good.”

Sandie then reached forward and investigated my panty girdle.

“I’m glad you’re wearing that. It must be uncomfortable though.”

“Like I said; I’m a tranny. This stuff and tucked boy bits go with the territory. Anyway I do it for the girl’s sake. I don’t want any unfortunate surprises.”

“That shows how much you must care. Good girl!”

She lent forward and pecked me lightly on the cheek and I flinched nervously.

“I hope that was a girly thing. The tactile thing.”

“That’s exactly what it was. I’m pleased about you. Well done.”

“D’you think I’m wrong to let them climb into bed? They chose to do it on the very first morning, I didn’t encourage them.”

“No. If they’re happy with it, let them continue. They’ll possibly grow out of it when they’re older.”

“Possibly!” I gulped. “I thought they would definitely.”

“Who can tell? It depends what sort of relationship the daughters have with their mothers.”

“But I’m not their mother. What do I do if they still want to cuddle when they’re fully fledged young ladies?”

“Well then you’ll have to fly solo on this one. I’ve got no experience of this and therefore no advice. I’ll be interested in following your case. There are hundreds of issues to address.”

I felt a small resentment rising in my bile but I managed to suppress my feelings. ‘So I was to become a laboratory rat again.’ I said nothing about my feelings and continued in the other vein.

“But it’s OK to continue for now, you know cuddling and stuff.”

“Yes. Shall I put the children on the bus today? I’d like a chat with them in private.”

“By all means.”

I was well used to the Social services workers regularly interviewing the girls. Sandie’s request was no more intrusive than all the others. It would give me an opportunity to lounge about in my bedtime finery even as I made breakfast. I put my warm dressing gown over my peignoir and slipped into my mules. Sandie returned to her own bedroom to get dressed.

As she and the children came down the stairs, I was laying out breakfast. Sandie’s presence exited them.

“Manners now girls,” I smiled, “we’ve got guests.”

They giggled, (they were always giggling!) but behaved themselves and were soon chattering with Sandie as they bounced down the lane to the bus stop. Sandie had a good opportunity to pump them and I got on with some household chores until she returned.

“Well. Were their answers OK?”

“Yes. Fine. They love cuddling up to you in the morning. Carry on with the good work.”

“And bath times?”

“Same again. They’ll soon let you know when they want privacy.”

“So you still trust me then?”

“Believe me Beverly, if we had the slightest doubts or fears -,”

Sandie let her statement hang as I handed her another coffee.

“Yes. Nobody knows that better than me. But I’m sure you’ll be watching until the day the girls leave home.”

“Does that offend you?”

“Not any more. I’ve had fifty years of censure. I’m long since inured to it.”

“So, shall we get ready for the party?”

“There’s not much to do today. It all comes together at the weekend, then I say goodbye to the girls and visit my aunt. You’ll be on your own with the girls. Plenty of time for you to check for anything untoward.”

Sandie gave me a jaundiced look before speaking.

“D’you not think our necks are on the line if this goes pear shaped. Don’t you think Mrs Bodkin and I are sticking our necks out, not to mention the judge, Miss Elizabeth Porter?”

“Yes. I get the picture. It never leaves me.”

“Well that reassures me. Now what shall we do today.”

“I thought Skipper might like to bring the girls a present. When he comes home.”

“Such as?”

“Oh something I know they’ve been wanting since they came here. They’ve never mentioned it to me, but I’ve heard them talking about it.”

“And what’s that?” Asked Sandie curiously.

“Well they would like a pony. One each preferably.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea just yet.” Cautioned Sandie.

“Why not?”

“What happens if they cant accept that Skipper is really Beverly and the whole thing falls apart? You’re left with two ponies.”

I paused thoughtfully. I had let my excitement get ahead of me.

“Ye-ess. Perhaps you’re right. I was getting a bit too ambitious. I’d best let it lie.”

Sandie smiled.

“Well I’m glad to see that you’re mature enough and thoughtful enough to recognise sincere advice when you get it. It show’s your heart’s in the right place. Could you afford to keep two ponies?”

“Oh yes, easily. Money’s not a problem, nor space. There are plenty of barns and stables plus the two fields and the orchard. This was once a farm after all.”

“Yes’” conceded Sandie, “truthfully the girls have landed on their feet here. At least in a material sense.”

“But not in the emotional one, is that it? You still don’t approve then?”

“It’s not about approval Beverly. You’re a really nice person; and I mean that sincerely. I know Skipper appeared at first to be a cynical old curmudgeon but the girls have really mellowed Beverly. You’ve done well. I think the girls have been lucky. Truth to tell Beverly, I don’t really know myself how you’ve managed to change so effectively. It must be a component of your transvestism and that alone intrigues me. . I’m really feeling my way with you and this case. It’ll be interesting material for any paper I might choose to present.”

“After the girls have reached their majority I hope.”

“Naturally. I wouldn’t want to embarrass them.”

“Good and I hope you ask their permission.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being exposed yourself?”

“Would it matter if I did?”

“Well you would have every right to object?”

I smiled sardonically and Sandie had the good grace to blush.

“Sandie; I was a lab rat for half my childhood. If anybody could have developed a carapace to resist such slings and arrows, it’s got to be me! I suppose there are already whole bloody books written about me.”

“Yes. I must confess. I’ve recognised your case in lots of articles in several of our professional publications from way back in the fifties. I’ve been researching your case a lot.”

“Huh! That would figure. Beverly the lab rat; that’s me.”

“Yes I just can’t begin to imagine, but try not to let it get to you. You seem to have managed wonderfully well with whatever trauma’s you must have suffered. I’m terribly impressed!”

“I get by. I must be getting over it slowly, for example this is one of the first times I’ve ever discussed it with someone and not broken down. You seem to have a knack. Thank you”

“No it’s me that should be thanking you. I’d like to go over it all with your some day. D’you know you’re a living fossil.”

“How so?”

“Well all that awful stuff, Electro convulsive behaviour modification, chemical aversion, pre-frontal lobotomies; I mean the list just goes on, and you actually survived it.”

“No they didn’t do a prefrontal lobotomy.”

“Of course, I realise that, but you saw the results in others. That must have been ghastly, I mean; - the sheer sense of threat you must have felt.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should have just grabbed the water fountain and jumped out of the window. Sadly I didn’t have the strength or a place to run to. He had the reservation.”

Sandie looked at me puzzled.

“I don’t follow you, your rambling.”

“Oh Sorry my generation. Have you never seen the Film ‘One flew over the cuckoo’s nest?’

“No.”

I nodded and smiled wryly

“Well you should see it. It’s not all that accurate but then I don’t suppose they could really portray all the ghastly things could they. The women who wandered about naked, the promiscuous ones, the ones who should never have been put there but ended up there because they had got pregnant or something. No; you wouldn’t remember all that would you? That was forty years ago. Long before you were even born.”

“I’d like you to someday discuss it at length with me. The patient’s perspective, more importantly an intelligent, coherent patient’s perspective.”

“I wouldn’t be much use I’m afraid, I suppose I’ve forgotten ninety percent of it, some of it locked away deliberately to protect my sanity and the rest just forgotten or subconsciously suppressed..”

“We could help you recall it, and maybe help you address it.”

“Yeah. That’s the rub isn’t it, - that little word ‘maybe’. What happened if you called up my devils or released the dragon, or whatever? I could end up totally fucked. No thanks. They did enough damage then. They’re not getting another chance. I’ve only got one brain; one mind’ one life.”

“I have collated the reports and studies they did about you. The dates and circumstances described in those articles might help you address stuff. Would you like to see them?”

“It would make no difference would it? What’s the point in raking over old and very cold cinders? No thanks.”

“Don’t you mean coals?”

“No the coals were all burned out donkey’s years ago and anyway, as I said, the bastard’s who tried their magic on me are probably all dead! In my mind the only useful therapy would be requital and that’s forever lost to me, the chance to confront the bastards.”

“Bastards?”

“Yeah, I’ve already told you I was a lab rat. You name it, I got it; except the pre-frontal lobotomy of course. I think I only just escaped by the skin of my teeth when I was finally dumped in the borstal unit and that was virtually frying pan to fire! Though was it; I still ask myself I mean ‘pre-frontal lobotomies’ come on!”

Sandie knew all about the dark history of her trade. The long litany of ghastly abuses was well documented and she fell silent when confronted with me; a living fossil, real evidence of those abuses. I sensed her feeling of guilt and decided the conversation had got dark enough and the atmosphere had become oppressive..

“Oh come on. Let’s lighten up. I’ve got business in town, lets go shopping for some party fixings. That’s one thing that trannies and girls always have in common; shopping!”

In the car she opened up.

“I’m surprised and pleased that you’ve come through it so well.”

I chuckled ironically.

“Huh. You mean the childhood thing; despite the ‘treatment?”

“Precisely.”

“Let’s talk about something else. I want to stay in a good mood for Skipper’s return.”

“Sorry. What were you planning?”

“Well as you know, it’s a fancy dress party. Any suggestions?”

“This brought Sandie out her dark mood and she quickly fell to discussing ideas. On arrival in Bournemouth we used some ‘retail therapy’ to complete the day. We picked the girls up at the school gate and drove them home.

“Well girls,” I asked, “Skipper’s coming soon. How d’you feel?”

The girls both squealed with anticipation and started gabbling about meeting him. Thinking as ‘Beverly, I hoped Sipper didn’t disappoint them. I asked Jennifer if she had any preferences for the fancy dress and she had finally chosen to be a unicorn. I remembered then that she had been watching the film, ‘The Last Unicorn’ the previous evening.

“Won’t you need a partner for that? Four legs and everything.”

“It’s a pretend unicorn silly. Anyway she end’s up as a beautiful princess. I’ll just wear a silvery white costume and a unicorn’s horn. I could dye my hair silver and get myself a silver tail.”

“That sound’s like fun. So you won’t need a unicorn suit then.”

“No. I’ve got a white and silver ballet tutu with along skirt. I’ll use that for starters.”

“The dyed hair sounds a bit ambitious but you could give it a try. What do you think Sandie?”

“Yeah. Go for it, but remember you’ve got school on the Monday. You’ll have to dye it back to your natural blond colour.”

“No we haven’t. There’s no school next week. It’s half term!” Chorused the girls.”

Sandie and I exchanged wry smiles. ‘Dyed hair it was then, unless Skipper could somehow persuade Jenny to use a silver wig.’

The following day, Sandie and I dug out jenny’s tutu whilst she was at school. It was obviously way too small and necessitated another trip to Bournemouth to buy a new one. We indulged her and also purchased a delightful ‘pirate queen’ costume for Beatrice.

The next evening, Beverly said her tearful cheerio’s and handed the girls over to Sandie. Sandie and the girls drove me to Poole station and saw me onto the train. I got off in Bournemouth and got the very next train back to Poole then checked into Sissy’s gay hotel. Sissy was in on the plot and we discussed where to get a silver wig and a silver extension piece to fashion a unicorn’s tail.

“She wants to dye her hair but I’m not sure about that.”

“Oh go on,” encouraged Sissy, “she’s growing up. It’ll be a novel experience for her. It’ll be a chance for Skipper to really indulge.”

I secretly fancied the idea of Jennifer experimenting with her hair for the first time and a fancy dress party would be a damned good excuse. It would be an excellent icebreaker if Skipper dressed up as Beverly, and then assisted Jenny with the hair thing before Saturday noon. The party was scheduled to start at three and be over by seven or eight. I slept that night in Sissy’s hotel feeling a little easier about my crossing over in front of the girls on the Saturday morning.