Orphan ~ 1

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----------=BigCloset Retro Classic!=----------

Orphan
Chapter 1

By Sue Brown

Copyright© 2007, 2016 Sue Brown
All Rights Reserved.

As we travelled along in the car, I wondered what would become of me.

I thought back two weeks ago and remembered with horror when I
found out that my parents had died coming back from a new year’s
party. It was 1969 when they left and it was now 1970.


 
Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Monday 12-29-2007 at 03:21:08 pm, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
 
Chapter 1
 
As we travelled along in the car, I wondered what would become of me.

I thought back two weeks and remembered with horror when I found out that my parents had died coming back from a new year’s party. It was 1969 when they left and it was now 1970.

I had been tucked up in bed and fast asleep. I had only just turned 11 and was considered too young to stay up very late; as my parents were not due to return until the early hours of the morning.

My babysitter, Rachel had been paid a lot of money to look after me on New Years Eve. She had just dumped her boyfriend and didn’t want to go clubbing.

It was about 3.00am, I think, things were a bit sketchy and disjointed, so can’t really be sure.

I was woken up gently by Rachel; even so I jumped slightly.

I opened my eyes, blinking in the glare of the bedside lamp.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes and then blearily looked at Rachel and noticed that she had been crying.

‘What’s wrong, Rachel?’

Just then, I noticed a woman standing at the end of the bed and a policeman and another lady, carrying a case, standing at the bedroom door.

‘Mark, this lady needs to tell you something and I’m sorry, it will make you upset.’

She sat on the bed and held my hand as the lady at the end of the bed came over, sat beside me and spoke.

‘Mark, dear, I’m sorry to have to tell you some very bad news. About an hour ago your mother and father were driving along the bypass. A van was coming the other way, lost control and hit your parents’ car, head on. The driver was drunk, we believe, but won’t be sure until later.’

‘How is my mum and dad, are they hurt?’

I could see by the woman’s face and the tears in her eyes that the worst possible thing had happened.

‘NO!’

Things got a bit confused then, I was being spoken to and hugged by Rachel but I was hysterical. I felt the jab of a needle in my arm and things went black.

When I woke up I was in a bit of a daze. I knew that I had been told that my mum and dad had died but I didn’t really believe it and felt numb. I found out later that I had been given drugs to help me over the worst of the horror.

Noticing that I was in a strange bedroom, I was told that I was in a foster home, an emergency one. I was to stay there until something could be worked out.

Being an only child; I had no known relatives alive except an aunt; my mothers’ sister. She lived up north somewhere, but Auntie Christine had been out of touch with us for years and I barely remembered her.

A series of people came to visit me, social workers, a doctor a lady police officer. I just wanted to curl up and be by myself. I wanted to cry but found no tears. I was surrounded by sympathy and felt stifled. I needed to grieve but didn’t have time to do it. I wanted to be alone!

My temporary foster parents were Sue and Phil, they were nice and gentle people and they must have realised that all these well meaning people were doing me more harm than good. Gradually, I was left alone to my thoughts and sorrow.

The following day Sue came in the bedroom and sat on the bed. I hadn’t moved from there for two days apart from using the toilet.

‘How are you feeling, Mark?’

I shrugged my shoulders and said nothing.

‘Are you sleepy?’

I nodded.

‘Well, that’s probably the pills and the fact that you are in shock over your parents' death.’

I looked up to her.

‘They’re not really dead are they?’

‘Yes, honey, I’m sorry, but they are.’

‘They can’t be dead.’

‘I know it’s hard, but you must come to terms with it. You are so young to have this happen to you, but you have to be big, brave and strong. Your parents are probably looking down at you now, hoping that you feel better and wishing that you move on with your life.’

I looked up at her; tears smarting my eyes.

‘So they really have gone?’

‘Yes.’

I fell into her arms and cried my heart out.

I felt a bit better after that. I still was upset, angry, hurt and all other things people feel when they have such a loss in their lives but crying helped to relieve the tension and pain.

I stayed with Sue and Phil for two weeks. The doctors said that it would not be good for me to go to the funeral and I agreed. I didn’t want to see two boxes with my parents in them. I wanted to remember them as my loving and happy mum and dad.

My Aunty Christine could not be found as she had moved from her last known address. So it was up to the local council to look after me. So here I was, being taken by Sue and Phil to the council office where a decision was to be made as to where I should now go.

We pulled up outside a drab office building and were soon walking up some lino covered stairs and along a lime green corridor, finally reaching a door marked "CHILDREN’S SERVICES".

Phil knocked on the frosted glass door and we walked in.

There was a lady typing loudly behind a wooden desk, she had a cigarette in her mouth and she looked up as we entered.

‘Hello Phil and Sue.’

‘Hi Mandy is he in? we’re expected.’

‘Yes, Phil, hang on a mo.’

Mandy picked up the phone.

‘Mr Rogers, your 2.30 is here.’

She placed the phone back on the cradle, looked at me and smiled and then said, ‘Won’t be a mo. Take a seat.’

We sat down on the cold hard plastic seats. I winced a bit. I was wearing shorts and the seat was a shock on my legs.

A few seconds later, a rather podgy, florid faced man came out.

‘Hello, nice to see you again and you must be Mark?’

I nodded shyly.

‘OK come in and let’s have a chat.’

We followed Mr Rogers into his office and after much scraping of chairs, sat down.

Mr Rogers shuffled some papers and then frowned.

‘Won’t be a moment.

‘MANDY,’ he shouted.

There was a faint scrape of a chair and then the door opened.

‘I wish you would use the phone Adrian… I mean Mr Rogers.’

‘Sorry, Mandy, forgot. Did you speak to Miss Phelps about young Mark here?’

‘Yes, she is going to ring me back in a few minutes.’

‘OK, let me know when you hear from her.’

‘Right.’

Mandy left, shutting the door quietly after her.

‘Now Mark,’ said Mr Rogers, smiling at me, ‘how are you?’

I was always a bit shy with people I didn’t know and I just whispered, ‘OK.’

‘I am so sorry about your parents. It must have been awful. We have been trying to contact your aunt with no luck, so far. That’s why you were placed with Sue and Phil here. Have they been looking after you alright?’

‘Yes, they have been very nice to me.’

‘That’s good. Unfortunately, they can only look after children for a short period as they are what we call our emergency foster parents. We now need to put you somewhere more permanent. We would normally place you with other foster parents but, unfortunately, there is no one available at the moment, so Mandy has contacted the Boys Care Home and will get a call back, hopefully in the next few minutes.’

I wriggled in my seat. I didn’t like the sound of that.

‘Don’t worry, it’s a nice place and it’s well run with friendly carers and a good bunch of kids.’

He turned to Sue and Phil.

‘It’s a pity that the Mixed Care Home was shut due to the cuts in funding. It’s put a big strain on resources. That’s the main reason why Mark here can’t go into a foster home. We had to use all available parents to fill the gap.’

Just then Mandy came in and went over to Mr Rogers. She whispered something in his ear. He frowned and said, ‘WHAT!’

She looked at me and then whispered something else that I couldn’t catch.

‘I’ll come out. Excuse me a minute.’

He left with Mandy and I could here a mumbled conversation outside.

Sue held my hand and looked encouragingly at me.

‘Don’t worry, Mark. I’m sure it’s just a glitch or something.’

The voices were being raised a bit and I could here Mr Rogers quite plainly now. He appeared to be speaking to someone on the phone.

‘Miss Phelps, you promised to keep a place open for Mark. You know what he’s been through. He needs a bit of stability in his life… I know… but….I…are you sure? Very well, goodbye.’

He slammed the phone down.

‘BUGGER!’

I went red and then suppressed a guilty laugh. Sue and Phil looked shocked at hearing a swear word in hearing distance of a child.

I looked at Phil who shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to say.

Mr Rogers walked in and sat down, his complexion looked redder than before and he was sweating a bit.

‘We have hit a snag. You cannot go to the Boys Care Centre as there is now no room. They had to take a child back from a foster couple as one of the parents became ill. So that now leaves us with a major problem. You can’t go back with Sue and Phil as they have another child due to go back with them today. It means that we have to look at another alternative… MANDY!’ He shouted making me jump.

‘Mr Rogers, Please do not shout like that.’

‘Sorry, Mandy, could you take Mark down for a drink in the canteen while I sort things out?’

‘Certainly, but you had better say goodbye to Sue and Phil, Mark, as they have to go soon.’

I stood up and hugged my foster parents.

‘Thank you for looking after me.’

‘That’s OK, honey, I hope things work out for you,' said a tearful Sue.

‘Good luck, son,’ Said Phil, shaking my hand and then hugging me.

I left them with Mr Rogers I made my way to the basement with Mandy for a cuppa.

I decided on some coke while Mandy had a cup of tea and a cigarette.

‘Will they find somewhere for me?’

‘I’m sure that we will. It’s those cut backs though; we are finding it hard to place all the kids that need help. We may have to move you out of the area.’

‘PLEASE DON’T,’ I cried.

‘Why honey?’

‘It’s bad enough loosing my mum and dad, but at least I know this area and I go to school here.’

‘What school are you in?’

‘St Lukes Boys School.’

‘That’s the Church of England school off the High Street?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Have you many friends there?’

‘Not really, I’ve only just started there but it’s just that it’s familiar.’

‘Well, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what we can do for you.’

We stayed a few more minutes until we had finished our drinks and then we went back upstairs.

When we got back to the office, Mr Rogers was on the phone so I sat with Mandy as she got on with her typing.

‘MANDY!’

Mandy’s eyes rolled upwards and she said something under her breath as she got up and went into Mr Rogers’ office, shutting the door after her.

There was a mumbled conversation and then the voices rose a bit. I think that they were arguing about something and then there was silence.

Mandy head poked around the door.

‘Would you like to come in Mark?’

I went in and sat down in a chair. Mandy sat next to me and I looked over to Mr Rogers who was writing something down.

He sighed, put his pen down, looked up and smiled in a weary sort of way.

‘Well Mark, I have tried everything I could think of to get you placed in a suitable home, but I’m afraid that all enquires except one have failed to come up with a solution.’

‘Where will I go then?’ I said with visions of being put out on the street to fend for myself.

‘Erm, Mandy, can you explain?’

She looked daggers at him and then turned to me.

‘Well Mark, as Mr Rogers said, everywhere we tried could not help. We have no places at the Boys Care Centre and no foster parents are available to look after you. We can’t just pluck a couple out of the sky and parents have to be licensed before they are allowed to take children in. I would take you, but I’m not licensed, nor is Mr Rogers or his wife. So we have a big problem.’

‘What will happen to me?’

‘Well, we have a solution, far from perfect but doable. Apart form the boys home, we have a girls home too and Mr Rogers has spoken to the house matron there and they have agreed that you can go there until other arrangements can be made.’

I looked at her with relief and then it struck home.

‘A girl’s home, but that means that it’s full of girls?’

‘That’s right.’

‘But I’m a boy.’

‘Yes but, due to the circumstances, they are willing to take you in.’

‘OK.’ I said, not sure whether this was a good idea or not.

‘There is one slight problem.’

‘Yes?’

‘As it’s a girls home and the fact that there are children there who have come from broken homes and some being a bit fragile, we have to think of all the children and not just one.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not sure…’

‘Well, the only stipulation that the matron has is that you dress and act as much like a girl as possible and not tell anyone that you are a boy.’

I looked at her with horror.

‘Dresses?’

She nodded.

‘Skirts?’

She nodded.

‘Blouses?’

‘Yes all of those things. You have to look and act like a girl. It’s going to be hard on you, but you are small for your age and your hair is long and you could pass for a girl if you wear the right clothes and if we do something with your hair. What do you think?’

I looked at Mr Rogers.

‘Is there nowhere else I can go?’

‘Sorry Mark. Believe me, I’ve tried. As soon as something comes up, we will transfer you.’

I looked down at my feet. I needed this as much as I needed a hole in my head, but it appeared that I had no choice.

‘OK.’ I said sadly, tears dripping from the end of my nose. ‘I’ll go if you want me to.’

‘Good boy. Now go with Mandy, she will take you to her home as she thinks that she may have some old clothes of her daughters that might fit you.’

A few minutes later, I left with Mandy and we were speeding along in her car.

I was quiet as I thought about the ramifications of what was about to happen and a bit of curiosity about how I would look as a girl. I wasn’t as upset as I thought that I would be, perhaps because I knew nothing about girls. I knew that they were different when they got older and had breasts and everything but kids of my age and younger looked fairly similar except the differences in clothes.

For some reason, I perked up a bit; perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad pretending to be a girl. I had lied to Mandy about St Lukes, I had been there a few weeks but I had been bullied about my size and the fact that I was one of the few boys still wearing shorts. I didn’t like St Lukes and I never wanted to go back. The reason why I wanted to stay in the area was that I wanted to be near my mum and dad and visit them at the cemetery. I thought that if I went away from the area, they wouldn’t be able to look over me and watch me as I grew up.

As we pulled up at Mandy’s house, I wondered how I would get along being a girl and whether I would give myself away as a boy when I moved into the Girls Care Home.


 
To Be Continued…
 
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Comments

-Insert Praise Here-

::Giggle:: It is interesting to see how Mark has been placed in situations that demand him to become someone else. I would love to see where this will be going and eagerly await the next chapter. I know how wonderful it is to recieve comments about a story that is well written and seems to be planned out. Keep up the wonderful work.

Hugs,
Jayme Ann

The answers to all of life's questions can be found in the face of true friends

The answers to all of life's questions can be found in the face of a true friend

orphan

its a good story but can you say who put a fox in the hen houseok verry good love it hugs and love and ill keeplooking for part #2 and #3 love awalys [email protected]

mr charlles r purcell
verry good story i wood love to see a lot more of this all i can say is wow verry good thanks for shareing

who put a "Fox"?

Love the story chapter and your double meaning word "Fox".
Who put the fox in the hen house... An old and wise saying applicable to this situation.
now consider the male definition of "Fox" (a beautiful enticing young girl/ woman)
and your saying takes on a whole new meaning. Also applicable to this situation.

Great story
great comment

Interesting "concept"

I suspect it couldn't actually happen. (Hey, mistakes are NEVER made are they?)

This is an interesting situation. Sounds a LOT stressful to our young hero, when piled upon the recent loss of his parents.

It'll be interesting to see how things work out.

Phrances

Orphan

marie c.

Looks like poor Mark is due for an unexpected change. I'm waiting for the next installment.

marie c.

strange start

Hi love

It must be the English, not really but this is strange start to a story. Yes i like it and i read everything from the English all of it, the words you use, Bugger means what? this is a good story very good can't wait to see more of it.

Hugs and Kisses
Melissa Ann

Hugs and Kisses
Melissa Ann

...

Bugger as far as I know means anal sex... from Buggery.

However in Britain, and I think Australia & New Zealand its a rather mild expletive. Certainly not to my mind considered very rude.

The Legendary Lost Ninja

All equal things being unequal...

erin's picture

"Bugger!" is perhaps slightly more vulgar than American use of "Crap!" as an expletive. You wouldn't say either at a formal dinner though you might use "Crap" around the deacons of your church, you probably wouldn't use "Bugger" and maybe neither around a minister. :)

- Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

bugger

kristina l s's picture

Is sort of swearing without swearing. In Aust and NZ it's commonplace, probably a pinch more 'nasty' in the UK. As Erin says you may not use it in conversation at a formal dinner, but if you're all friends it might get a good deal more colourful than that. Bugger in Oz basically converts to crap or damn, with a more laconic humourous edge perhaps.
The land holder has just spent days re-posting and re-wiring his paddock fence and is finally tightening the last strand. A storm approaches and the cattle get nervous and then spooked by a clap of thunder to stampede straight through said freshly wired fence. Several days work undone in a moment... he (or of course she) would lean back tipping the hat high on the head and mutter...'bugger!' Of course said storm passes, sans rain. Understatment, resignation and wry humour... it's a nice mix.

Language, it's a fun thing.

Kristina

Bugger

In British usage bugger can be very offensive, quite mild, or even friendly. It depends on who's saying it to who, and how it's said.

Sinisterpenguin

eg.

Angharad's picture

Oh bugger! I broke a nail, all because of you, you silly bugger, now bugger off before I get really angry!

Angharad

Angharad

Excuse me?

Would that useage be considered "very offensive, quite mild, or friendly"?

A confused Karen J.

Down with ego photo sigs!


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Brit. versus Am. English

Due to its origins, and no doubt the Brit. influence on us here in New England, I always thought that 'bugger' was a rather dirty word, but I get the contextual differences - hadn't thought about them much before... 'crap' isn't that flexible, although 'damn' might be...
"Damn, I broke a nail!"; "Damn it, they're late again!"; "Damn you to hell!" Yup, that works.

Great story, by the way! I'll be reading along & trying to catch up!

He conquers who endures. ~ Persius

Interested to see how it goes

I *do* like your stories, and I hope it goes well with Mark.

good story

i love it. it was just wonderful and i do hope it goes well for the boy. hes been though alot. its sad

Orphan 1

I wonder what would have happened if Mark had said "no". He has been asked and said yes, so isn't really as forced as in a lot of stories. It will be interesting to see how things develop over the next episode.

Hugs

Karen

Bugger!

Hi all,

I hope that I haven't buggered up the story by mentioning the word bugger.

Sod it, I probably have!

Hugs
Sue

Please note that the swear words above are in the public domain and therefore not subject to copyright infringement. Any use of the said swear words are purely incidental and should therefore not to be taken too literally.

(Cor, that sounds quite official don't it?)

Hugs and kisses

Sue

;-)

Well, I'll be buggered!

…used to be a frequently used exclamation of surprise here in UK. I'm sure nobody meant it literally—I hope not anyway—but it was only the very prim and proper types that objected to such language. "You old bugger" is used as a term of endearment between men, particularly in the Antipodes.

Great story, Sue, keep up the good work and let's have some more soon.

Hugs
Gabi

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Reminds me of an old Dave Allen bit

A young woman in training to become a nun stubs her toe in the dark.

"Oh Christ! I've stubbed my toe."

"Oh God, I said Christ!"

"Knickers! I never wanted to be a nun anyway."

Subsitute sod and bugger for the Christian deity and son and it still works.

What would be wild is if he comes out of this a normal, sucessful male as the *timeout* as a girl gave him a chance to grow up in a caring environment and learn the ways of women without all the posturing BS and bulling of the boys school.

I see a double standard with the child welfare people and the school, that they are more concerned for the girls than the boy who seems an after thought. What will happen if it gets out they conjoled him -- come on this wasn't a unpressured decision on the boy's part -- that they made a boy live as a girl to aoivd dumping him in the street?

You will manage to do this with charm as always.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

Bugger me!

I've only just discovered this story, but thought I'd keep up with the rather odd topic drift of the comments... :)

I've read various scenarios that get a story's protagonist experiencing the other side of the gender spectrum, but this is certainly different!

Could it happen in real life? Probably not (especially as many local authorities have closed down all their children's homes in favour of foster care - and there there is an estimated shortage of 10,000 foster carers - of which 2/3 are approaching retirement. So a recently bereaved lad ending up with a foster carer who's only approved for girls is a possibility. Admittedly they probably wouldn't be required to crossdress, but we wouldn't have a story here if Mark was allowed to remain the sole boy in a home full of girls. After all, the vast majority of fiction requires at least one extraordinary incident, or at least one character behaving atypically to most humans, or it could get very boring very quickly, and many genres (horror, fantasy and sci-fi for example) wouldn't exist at all.

Anyway, enough buggering on about bugger all, on with the reading!

 


EAFOAB Episode Summaries

There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...

As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

Again?

***Ms. Brown, You are doing it again. You have gotten me hooked like a fish. The only thing is I won't be able to finish this today...Rebecca

Being in Texas and the

States I can just imagine the media if word of this got out It may sound strange but Dallas is an oasis of tolerance in this state. I am hooked on the story already Being paralyzed w/ the stroke I am going Bonkers and need something like this story badly. Thank you.

giggles

Cute story so far.

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