This section contains all those stories that are too long and drawn out to stand alone as solos and have been written over multiple parts, chapter, episodes or whatever else you'd like to call them...
Before you rush off though, I would like to warn you that The Sight and Second Sight are in the process of being rewritten. This is because when I tried to continue Second Sight, I couldn't remember what was going on and what had happened before. So I ended up rereading the whole lot and like the idiot I am, I also started noodling; fiddling with the existing chapters and before I knew where I was, I had changed them both to such a degree that it would no longer have been possible to update each individual episode ... we were looking at replacing everything from one end to the other.
I wanted to take these older versions down or unpub them, but it was suggested that both should be left up side-by-side. So be aware, the story is incomplete, but will be just as soon as I can finish the new version.
This will be posted chapter by chapter at regular intervals until the whole novel has been uploaded to this site, at which point it will be published for Kindle. However, nothing of the new version will be published or posted until such time as it is complete and I've stopped picking at it.
Just thought you'd like to know.
This is a complete story in four chapters, but I have left it open so that maybe one day, it can be added to with further adventures...
This story is highly sexually charged, at least in the first chapter, so you have been warned.
Truth or Dare
© Nick B May 2007
Alex is taken to his mum's friend's house and while they go out, Ronnie's daughter Sharon is charged with 'babysitting'.
Sharon suggests a game of Truth or Dare and that's where this all begins...
This is a story taken from the Alex's Adventures in a World of Wonder universe that I created. I must confess, it's a lot more steamy than my posts here usually are so be warned.
Thanks again to Kristina LS, my trusty proof-reader and generally all-round good egg. I don't think I'd still be writing this stuff without her input. She knows what I mean....
I would never have thought that my mother would have taken me with her. I was fifteen for God’s sake and I had better things to do. Actually, I didn’t, but I could have found something and anything would have been better than going there.
I’d got into trouble at school (not for the first time) earlier. It wasn’t my fault, but the teachers… well you know how teachers are and Mum had gone ballistic. I was in deep shit and she told me she wasn’t letting me out of her sight over the holiday, so gone were any neat things I could have got into. Even mooching around was out now.
So there I was with a face as long as a wet weekend sat there while mum and Ronnie (short for Veronica) were chatting. I don’t even know what they were chatting about. It didn’t seem to me to be about anything. They were doing all those “Oh he never did” and “get away…” kinds of things and I thought it was funny, but evidently, mum didn’t.
I was bored and I couldn’t help it. What really annoyed me was the fact that they thought it was funny too. I was mimicking them with the “oh go on with you” comments, but mum was determined not to let me have any fun at all — punishment.
Ronnie could see that just the fact that I was there was getting on mum’s nerves and decided to step in before things got embarrassing and I guess I should be grateful, because Ronnie’s “boy’s will be boys” attitude probably saved me from even more crap from mum.
Coincidentally, Ronnie’s daughter Sharon came in at that very moment and Ronnie decided it would be a good idea if she let me join in with her and her friends.
Well that went down well — NOT!
Both Sharon and I looked at our respective parents with looks of “do I have to” and once it was affirmed that yes, we did have to, our expressions turned to looks of “this isn’t fair”. Both of us stomped off like teenagers do whenever they’re told to do something they don’t want to in the direction of her room.
“You’d better not get in the way.” said Sharon with a look that I have to admit, I found just a teensy bit intimaidating (pretty scary) before we went into her room and I wasn’t about to argue.
Inside Sharon’s rooms, three of her friends were already looking through comics and teen magazines and I just thought “yuck!” I wasn’t looking forward to this at all.
It didn’t seem as though Becky, Colleen or Judy were particularly impressed by the intrusion either, but that was fine by me. All I wanted to do, was stay out of trouble long enough to get home without mum yelling at me again.
What was probably worst of all was the fact that all four of these girls were older than me. They were all sixteen and looked it. To them I wasn’t worthy of being stepped on; just a skinny little boy with about as much right to be in their sanctum as a dog turd.
“Just sit over there and don’t, don’t make a sound.” said Sharon with another one of those looks. Funny, if another boy had said that to me, I’d have ended up scrapping with him, but for some reason, Sharon’s tone just struck the right chord in me and I went over to the chair she’d pointed to and sat down — quietly.
They started back on with their conversations that seemed to centre around shoes, fashions, shopping, soaps, oh and music. I got bored again and started looking around. On the dresser next to me was one of those Rubik’s cubes and started twisting it this way and that.
It only took about five minutes, which was no record, but it was complete by the time I had finished it.
“Who said you could touch… Hey!” said Sharon.
“How long have you had that for, Shaz?” asked Becky. “He’s here for five minutes and already finished it.” Sharon was not best pleased.
“It was nearly finished already.” she snipped. She took the cube from me and stared at it, turning it over in her hands.
“How did you do this?”
“Pretty simple really…” I said and told her how.
It’s one thing to know how it’s done but something else entirely to do it and I watched as Sharon (who was obviously the leader of this small bunch of girls) gave the cube to Becky and told her to jumble it then pass it on. By the time Colleen who was last, had twisted it this way and that, it was pretty well messed up.
“Now let’s see how clever you are.” said Sharon with a smirk.
I didn’t want to tell her that it was a technique, not what you started with and this time it took me no more than three or four minutes before I handed back the cube with all sides complete.
“How the fuck?” she asked.
I was feeling pretty smug now, being able to confound Sharon so easily, but she wasn’t convinced I hadn’t watched the girls and just reversed their actions.
“Turn round so you can’t see.” she said and I dutifully did as I was told. Several minutes later, I was handed the cube again and with a very smug look, Sharon asked me to get out of that one.
I did.
Finally, I was starting to get through and after about half a dozen times of messing it up and putting it back, they got the message.
Mum called me at this point and I left them to it. I went into the kitchen where mum and Ronnie were chatting and drinking coffee.
“Ronnie and I are going out for a couple of drinks. Can I trust you not to screw this up?” she asked and I just shrugged, but this didn’t go down at all well.
"…because if you can’t…” There was one of mum’s raised eyebrows again and I knew that should I put just a toenail out of line, I was going to be in the brown smelly stuff until I was old and grey.
“Yes mum.” I said resignedly.
Ronnie called Sharon in.
“Oh what now?” she whined.
“I’m taking Aunty May for a drink. Alex will be staying here.”
“Oh muuuuuum.”
“What?” asked Ronnie with just a hint of bad things to come if this attitude was maintained.
“Well,” said Sharon, oblivious to the danger signs. Now I wouldn’t say I was more grown up than her, but when you’ve been in trouble as often as I have, you tend to spot those little signals that scream not to go there.
This didn’t seem to register with Sharon and on she went; the metaphoric hole she was digging becoming a gaping maw in seconds.
“For a start, May is not my aunty or your sister and secondly you knew that my friends were coming round tonight and I don’t see why I should…” Her protest was choked into silence when she was issued with a chilling ultimatum to either keep an eye on me or her friends were leaving.
“Do I have to baby-sit?” she whinged.
“Hey! Just a minute…” I started, but my mouth clamped shut like a vice when I saw the look on mum’s face and thought better of it, which needless to say, meant that the adults won — not that that’s any big surprise and once again Sharon and I went off towards Sharon’s room. I detoured to the toilet first, which was probably a good thing, hearing Ronnie and mum shout “goodbye we won’t be long” from where I was sitting.
I washed up and headed for Sharon’s room.
“I can’t believe our evening’s going to be completely ruined by that twerp.” she said. I felt about as welcome as a fart in a space suit and held back going in.
“Come on, he’s not that bad.”
“That’s not the point. It was just supposed to be us and now it’s ruined; ruined!”
“Give him a chance, Shaz. Anyway, I think he’s cute.”
“You would.”
I opened the door and I could see in each of their faces that they thought maybe I’d heard what they’d been saying. I could see who thought I was cute — Becky — as she was beet red and trying desperately to hide behind her little hands.
I didn’t say whether I had heard or not. I just felt a little less alone knowing that at least one of them didn’t think I was that bad, but I still wished that the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
I was acutely aware that apart from Becky, who appeared to be happy just chilling out, the rest were pretty hacked off about having to share their precious time with a boy. I decided to head them off at the pass.
“Look, it’s no good giving me the ice treatment. I don’t like this any more than any of you do. If I hadn’t been dropped in it at school today, I wouldn’t even be here.”
“What happened?” asked Judy.
“Someone took my pencil rubber off my desk and chucked it at one of the girls. The teacher assumed it was me and I got sent home. Well that went down like a sack of shit as far as mum was concerned and here I am.”
“That seems a bit of an overreaction to send you home.” said Sharon.
“It’s not the first time I’ve ended up in trouble for something like this.”
“Ah. Do you know who it was?”
“Oh yes. I know who it was alright, but what do I do? If I tell the teacher who did do it, I spend the rest of my life being beaten up and this seemed like a better alternative. Not that I had a choice.” The atmosphere got noticeably less frosty at that point and a truce was called, which instantly made me feel better.
Sharon raised the atmosphere a bit more by suggesting that we all play a game. I thought Monopoly or Cluedo, perhaps even Scrabble at a pinch, but then she gave me the severe heebie-jeebies by suggesting truth or dare.
I knew how this went and the thought of playing it with four girls scared the pants off me.
The beginning wasn’t too bad, I answered my questions as did the others, but then they were pretty tame anyway; favourite actors, actresses, singer, that sort of thing, but then Sharon threw a spanner in the works by asking which boys they had kissed.
I of course couldn’t answer. I hadn’t even kissed a girl and I don’t need to tell you that the idea of kissing another boy was just about up there with the idea of shoving wasps up my arse.
Becky, Judy and Colleen immediately started giggling and covered their mouths and Sharon looked at me. She was shocked.
“Oh!” she said. “I forgot.” I think that for the briefest time, she forgot that I was a boy, not that I was there and her expression suddenly changed.
“I think we need to make Alex a little more at home, don’t we?” The girls looked as gobsmacked as me. I mean I had no idea what she was talking about. I already felt more at home than I had imagined I would. They seemed to have accepted me as part of the crowd pretty readily, so what could she possibly mean?
I think Colleen was the first to catch on, followed swiftly by Judy, which just left Becky and me. I must be slow or something, but then as Sharon began rooting through drawers in an almost frenzy, I started to get the picture.
Becky started giggling and the colour started to drain from my face. I tried to get out, but Judy got to the door and locked it, taking the key and putting it down her top.
“Oh no.” she said, wagging her finger at me. “You’re not going anywhere, buster.”
I think I’d rather have faced Bill Johnson, the school bully than these three, who were fast becoming four as Becky joined in.
Within no time, I was being undressed and dressed in a flurry of hands and giggles.
I did struggle. I struggled like a man possessed, but it didn’t make any difference. I think I caught Judy on the thigh and all that did, was make her redouble her efforts. In the end, I was pinned down, tears running down my face as my jeans, boxers and t-shirt were all replaced by other items, the first of which being a pair of yellow cotton panties, then black tights, a tartan kilt, training bra and a white blouse.
“That’s better!” said Sharon, getting up flushed, but satisfied. “Didn’t hurt, did it?”
“What have you done for Christ’s sake?”
“Wasn’t just me.”
“And your point is? Look at me, I look stupid and I feel worse.”
“You look cute.” said Becky in a small voice.
“She’s right. You look just perfect, or you will when we’ve put some makeup on you.”
“Oh come on Sharon.”
“Well you did have a forfeit, a dare. This is it.”
“I wish I’d have known before we started.”
“What and ruin all the fun?” said Judy and all four girls collapsed in gales of laughter.
I wasn’t happy.
“My mum’s going to be back soon, You gotta let me get my own clothes back on.” I said in my best pleading voice.
“He even sounds like one of us!” said Sharon.
“I mean it.” I said trying to be assertive. “Look, I’ve done my forfeit, my dare, now let me get my own stuff back on.”
“Oh no; our mother’s are not going to be back until closing time, if I know my mum anyway. We’ve got loads of time and I think we were playing a game weren’t we?”
I sat back on the bed, looking at my legs poking out of the skirt, well kilt anyway, feeling the strange constriction around my chest and seeing the odd lumps sticking out of it.
The tights were tight, in a curiously reassuring way and I was a bit confused as none of it seemed out of place. Perhaps it was because I was sitting in amongst others who were all dressed in a similar fashion; skirts, blouses and so forth.
I was a bit half-hearted about playing the game now. For a start, I was constantly distracted by the feelings of these new clothes that wrapped, encased and draped in places that kept catching me off guard — especially the tights, which rubbed every time I moved and reminded me how I was dressed - as if I needed a reminder.
Distracted or not, the game progressed and it wasn’t long before I had to pay another forfeit and I already knew what this meant.
I couldn’t be bothered to struggle this time and I think that this caused Colleen and Becky at least to lose a lot of the enthusiasm they had in the beginning, but Sharon and Judy more than made up for that and within about ten minutes, I was fully made up and even had some shoes to wear (although they were a bit big for me).
Should I have put up more of a fight? I suppose so, but there was the chance of coming out the other end looking like Coco the Clown and I admit that I was actually curious to see what the end result would be.
I wished I hadn’t.
I looked to all intents and purposes like I was a real girl.
My small frame didn’t look at all out of place dressed as it was. I had small but noticeable breast bumps on my chest and the makeup just made the whole thing even more realistic; like a fourteen year-old, trying to look older.
“Omigosh!” said Sharon.
“Bloody-hell!” I added which was repeated by all of us when we heard the front door open.
“I just popped back to tell you that we’re staying on. We’ll be back about eleven-thirty.” said my mum and the door closed again.
“See? I told you. That’s what you get when the pub’s almost at the front door.”
I was sunk. I was well and truly at the mercy of these young women.
Truth is it wasn’t that bad. After a while I stopped thinking about the makeup and was just conscious of the clothing. As I said, the tights were the main thing as some times my legs wouldn’t look like mine then I’d move and they would rub together reminding me of the fact that I wasn’t dressed as a boy.
The truth or dare game fizzled out shortly after. I don’t think there was anything that could top changing a boy into a girl and Judy and Sharon went to get some drinks, while Colleen went to the toilet.
Becky appeared to be engrossed in some teen magazine and I sat on the bed wondering what horrors lay in store for me as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
“Oh Jesus. What have they done?” I mumbled.
“I think you look lovely.” said Becky.
I smiled, but it wasn’t heartfelt. The idea of looking ‘lovely’ didn’t really ring right. I was a boy and boys look ‘handsome’ or ‘dashing’ or better still, ‘buff’, but I knew that the last one wasn’t me; I was so skinny, I had to walk around in the shower to stay wet.
I felt the bed move and Becky shuffled round, kneeling behind me starting to fuss with my hair.
“You just need to relax. It’s only a game after all.”
“That’s easy for you to say. If you wear jeans and t-shirt or skirts or dresses, it doesn’t matter, you still look like you. Look at what happens to me.”
She didn’t appear to be listening, she just let out a dreamy kind of “hmmm” as she continued to fuss and fiddle with my hair, running her fingers through it this way and that, curling bits forward and others back and I have to say, I found it quite relaxing. I closed my eyes and started to lose myself in the feeling.
Suddenly, she grabbed my face and pulled it up and when I opened my eyes, had her face not been right there, I would have been staring at the ceiling. She bent forward and kissed me full on the lips.
It was my first kiss and I was quite shocked. It was a lot nicer than I expected and when she pulled away, I think I was still there, head back, eyes closed and lips puckered.
She shuffled round again and pushed me back onto the bed, straddling me, which meant that her skirt — which was pretty short anyway — rode up still further and gave me a nice view of her underwear before she almost pounced, covering my mouth with hers.
I felt her tongue pushing at my lips and let mine part, tasting a mixture of my lips and hers finding that alone quite intoxicating, but before I could get used to it, her tongue was snaking around my mouth and whether it was reflex or not, I started to copy, fencing, snaking and generally getting well into this game of tonsil-hockey.
I could feel my member getting involved too as she ground herself into me, sliding back and forth over my hips, the kilt now round my waist and the heat she was generating obvious against my hardening flesh even through the tights and panties.
“Holy cow!” said a voice from the doorway. “That’s sooo fucking hot.”
Who said it, I don’t know, but Becky wasn’t in any mood to stop what she was doing and I was getting much too far into what we were both doing as not to care much either. Seconds later I felt the bed move and I assume that it must have been Sharon and Judy that got on.
I could only imagine what they were doing and while I didn’t really dwell on it, just that initial thought made my thingy twitch and get so hard it started to hurt. I think Becky noticed, because she ground herself onto it even harder and I don’t know what was happening to me, but I didn’t want it to stop.
“For Christ sake, you lot. Couldn’t you wait?” said another voice from the doorway. This time, I assume it was Colleen who had previously been in the smallest room, but seconds later, there was a bounce on the bed and she I think must have joined in the fun.
Becky sat up momentarily, breathing hard and scooted backwards, grabbing the top of my tights, yanking them down towards my knees and collecting the panties on the way. My little soldier was stood rigidly to attention, twitching with each heartbeat now and I was too far gone to care that we were not alone in the room.
She slid back and encircled my hardness with her fingers, sliding her hand up and down whilst grinning and I think it was more luck than anything that prevented me from going ‘pop’ right there and then.
I could hear mumbling and muffled noises from around us, but I was concentrating on Becky as she let me go, stood up and shucked off her panties, stepping out of them before getting back onto the bed astride me.
I knew what was coming, but in my wildest dreams I couldn’t have pictured it this way as she smiled and holding my rigid tool, lowered herself onto me, running the tip back and forth along the length of her sex before slowly — agonisingly slowly, lowering herself down the rest of the way.
I could feel everything inside her as my turgid tool slipped further and further in and I reached up to put my hands on her breasts, feeling the hardened nipples as I gently slid my palms over them through her blouse and bra.
I stopped fondling when she started to move up and down on my tool, going to the buttons of her blouse, releasing each one with extreme difficulty as I tried to get to grips with using my hands at the same time that she was bouncing up and down on me, filling me with feelings I had never felt before, my mind a whirl of wonder.
She had to help and stopped bouncing, but she didn’t stop altogether, she just settled for grinding herself as far down as she could as she undid her blouse and bra, freeing her generous-sized breasts.
Once free, she shook, jiggling them and giggling at the same time as she put her hands on my chest. Grinning broadly she lifted herself up until I was nearly out of her then rammed herself down. Both of us gasped and I for one nearly went through the roof.
I can’t say I lasted too much longer after that. This was my first time after all and I could feel it welling up from about fifty miles away as it headed full steam towards its conclusion at about mach 2 and still accelerating.
When it hit, I was completely overwhelmed. I must have cried out or thrashed about or both as she continued to bounce, the sensations I was getting almost too much to take, but she wasn't finished and with her fingers a blur, she managed to bring herself off before I lost all rigidity. With a long gasp or several, she slumped forward onto my chest and snuggled into my neck.
My eyes were like saucers, my body shaking as she slipped off me and snuggled in still further, I thought she was going to climb into my skin, which at that point in time, I would have been quite happy to have happen.
I think it was the round of applause that brought both of us back to reality. Becky blushed and hid in my neck and I don’t think I was far behind, trying to look round at the other three girls who were all in varying stages of undress.
I’d have been more than happy to call it a day there and then, but there were three other girls there all of whom had other ideas.
Colleen made the first move, almost diving down, pushing Becky’s legs apart and instantly making loud slurping noises. My eyes were already like saucers and I couldn’t open them any wider, but Sharon and Judy with predatory looks both came for me.
Judy knelt astride my head, lowering her pussy onto my face, while Sharon did something I would have never imagined, taking my now shrivelled tool into her mouth. By Christ that felt good as she licked and sucked with the power of a vacuum cleaner and pretty soon, my tool was as hard as it had been, but it was difficult to concentrate on one thing with both ends occupied.
Sharon moved forward and straddled me, lowering onto my now well lubricated tool and it wasn’t until Judy got off me for better access to Sharon, that I realised that I was in Sharon’s rear and she leaned back, my tool clearly visible before Judy went to town on her pussy.
I could go on and on about what else happened, but it was all just variations on a theme.
By the time the parents returned, everything was back to normal, well, as normal as could be. I was back in jeans and t-shirt, but the difference was, I was now wearing Becky’s panties — at her request and we were all sat watching something on the TV in the lounge, with Becky snuggled in beside me. I still had ‘punishment’ to face when I got home, but I was sure if it was anything like tonight had been, I’d survive.
Fin?
Downtown
© Nick B May 2007
Alex is a normal young lad and when the opportunity presents itself, he wants to be there. Trouble is, things don't always go the way we would like them to do they?
Thanks once again to my trusty Kris for taking the time out to cast an eye over this before I plonked it up here. It's not nearly as steamy as the last one, but life's not always like that is it?
Disclaimer:
Any similarity to persons living or dead is really unfortunate. This is fiction, you don't think I was really that lucky do you?
Ever since that episode in Sharon’s bedroom, I had hoped for a repeat or something, but the rest of the holiday went past without so much as a word - typical.
I still had Becky’s panties and every now and again, well alright, any time I had the chance, I would get them out and look at them, feel them; occasionally putting them against my cheek and before you wonder, I washed them out in the bathroom the day after I wore them home — you don’t think I’m that gross do you? I may be a teenage boy, but, oh never mind — heathens!
As much as I told myself it was wrong to do so, I did put them on again. It had been about three weeks since that night with the girls and I found myself waking up in the middle of the night after a particularly erotic dream…
“You’re wearing my panties again aren’t you?” whispered Becky in my ear. I couldn’t answer. I was embarrassed for not only having worn them home, but for having taken it upon myself to wear them again.
“Hmm.” she purred. “You feel so good in them.” She ran her hand up my leg from my knee and brushed across my thingy, through the satin material.
She started to kiss my neck, rubbing me through her panties in earnest and I was starting to squirm — raising my hips to increase the pressure. My breath was short and spasmodic as much of the time I was holding it and consequently, letting it go in “whooshes”.
“You like them too, don’t you?” she asked, patting my, now hard, thingy gently, making me almost leave the bed.
“Yes.” I whispered hoarsely.
“I like you in them.” she said. “I like it when you get all girly. It makes me wet just thinking about it.”
“Good God!” I thought. “She’s unreal. What have I got myself into?”
“Will you dress up again for me?” she asked and out of the corner of my eye, I could see a mischievous smirk playing across her sweet lips.
“Yes. YES. Oh fuck me YES!!” I yelled as she chuckled, still stroking me through the soft, smooth fabric and I was going wild. Shit, I would have done anything for her at that precise moment.
She started to kiss me leaving my lips all too soon and working her way down my neck to my chest where she paid particular attention to my nips. The feeling was heavenly. I could feel them get all big — well as big as they get and I felt the dark skin around them get crinkly and ever-so sensitive as she alternated between one side and the other, biting them and then blowing on them and oh God, I never wanted this to stop.
Willy was almost painful; standing to attention, constrained beneath the satin fabric of its panty prison; pulsating with every beat of my heart, which meant going like a jack-hammer, drumming a military tattoo on my belly. She made her way further down my chest, leaving my nipples and heading slowly towards my, er, her panties.
I reached down to push them down my hips and expose myself to her, but try as I might, I couldn’t. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t get them to budge and every second, she was getting closer.
“Doesn’t he like me?” she asked sounding rather hurt.
“I, um, I, er, that is…” I could feel the moment fading; disappearing into the ether and like a soap-bubble bursting into myriad oil-slick droplets that fell like a mist of tiny rainbows, Becky faded and I opened my eyes…
…to be met with the silence and darkness of my room.
Breathing hard and feeling the small beads of sweat on my brow, I quickly reached down to my groin to feel only skin, oh and one or two of the half-dozen hairs I had growing there.
“Bloody-hell!” I muttered, my thingy still twitching; the memories of the dream still there in the forefront of my mind.
I reached under the corner of the mattress and retrieved the panties, feeling their softness once again and with trembling hands, I shuffled about until I could get my feet through the legs and pull them up snugly around my nether regions, feeling the momentary coolness as they encased my still throbbing Willy.
Closing my eyes, I started to run my hands down from my nipples - my still engorged and very sensitive nipples, down my chest, over my stomach and onwards towards the softness of Becky’s panties.
I tried to go back to that moment in that dream, but I conked-out instead, falling asleep with my thumb just inside the waist of the panties, while my fingers drew small circles on the fabric as the last few moments of the dream replayed over and over in my head.
“ALEX!!”
“Hmm?” I answered dreamily, expecting to see my sweet Becky looking down at me; her smile, her blonde curls cascading like a golden waterfall over her face, those piercing blue eyes…
“Mum?” I almost screeched, sitting bolt upright and blinking rapidly, looking round to see where Becky had gone. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my house and you are my son.” she said with aplomb. “And my son’s about to be late for school if he doesn’t get his arse into gear - pronto!” She turned to leave my bedroom.
“Shit!” I said under my breath and threw the covers off as I swung my legs out of the bed.
About two thirds of the way round, I suddenly felt the gentle caress of a pair of satin panties against my arse and froze, trying to back-track and pull the covers back up all in one movement.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” asked mum, turning back quickly as if to catch me trying to catch just a few more moments of snoozing. Did she see my panties?
“I, er, I, oh mum, it’s a bit embarrassing.” I said, going red at the thought.
Mum knew I slept naked and despite her having nursed me from day one, I was still unwilling in the extreme to appear naked before her.
“Ah. Yes.” she said nodding. “Say no more.” and she left the room, smiling broadly and chuckling to herself.
At school during those three weeks, the boy that was causing trouble for me was out. He’d apparently had an accident fooling around in the street outside his house and whilst I wasn’t pleased for his injuries, I was happy not to be his scapegoat.
This fact had also been noticed by the school. A great many things had ceased since he had been absent, not least of which was my getting into trouble.
“It seems we may have misinterpreted some things, young man.” said the head and proceeded to apologise for having assumed that I was the trouble-maker, though he did add that he hoped that he wasn’t in error this time.
I assured him he wasn’t and walked out of his office feeling like a whole world of weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Perhaps now, mum wouldn’t insist on keeping me quite so close and let me go out now and again.
“No.” she said when I asked. “We’re going round to Ronnie’s this morning and I want some help.”
“Aw muuuuum!”
“I don’t know what your problem is. You won’t need to be there all day so you can go out afterwards.”
“Cool! Thanks mum.” I said and after breakfast, we walked the few hundred yards round to Ronnie’s.
I was helping, getting stuff ready for Ronnie and mum to go to a function and wound up carrying boxes and boxes out to the back of a hire van. The weather was warm and although it wasn’t bright sunny beach-type weather, it was hot enough for me to sweat cobs.
What also made it more difficult was the fact that Sharon and the girls came back from whatever they had been doing and sat drinking tea or coffee in the kitchen. Sharon, Colleen and Judy basically ignored me, but Becky made a point of looking at me every time I picked something up or put something down and she had a way of making my pulse rate go up even without the cardio-vascular work I was doing.
I moved the lot by the way; all of it. Miraculously, mum and Ronnie managed to find other things to do that didn’t involve setting one foot outside of the house, or strangely, lifting anything either, while I traipsed back and forth with boxes of this and that. Still, they had a long, hard day ahead and Ronnie gave me a tenner for my help before they left.
“So what are you up to?” asked Sharon as I got a cola from the fridge.
“Nothing much. I thought I’d go take a wander round the town to see what’s happening. I haven’t been out for weeks.”
“It’ll be a bit special then?” she asked.
“I don’t know about special, but I do think I’ve earned it!”
“Well, we’re going down town too. Do you want to come along?” I thought about it for a few seconds and then agreed. I figured that if they wanted to do girly stuff, I could go do my own thing.
“You’ll have to take a shower first and put on a clean t-shirt or something. You stink.”
Way to go Sharon! She really knew how to make someone feel like a complete arse in one short sentence. I sniffed my under-arms and unfortunately had to agree.
“Oh alright.” I said and started out of the door.
“Where are you going?” she asked with an arched eyebrow, making me feel as though I had just stolen a sweet or something.
“To take a shower and change. I won’t be long.” I returned.
“You can shower here. I can find you a t-shirt.”
“Okay.” I said and shrugging at something that sounded so reasonable, I trotted off into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
Ten minutes later.
“OY!” I shouted. “Where’re my fucking clothes?”
I should have thought before agreeing to take that sodding shower. Especially after last time those girls had anything to do with clothing and me in the same sentence… You know what happened, but after three weeks and nothing, I just didn’t think.
I grabbed a towel and padded into the bedroom, stopping to look at the lock, which to all intents and purposes, was still locked, but the door opened and closed perfectly easily.
“Aha!” I thought. “That explains a lot.”
All four girls were sniggering and began laughing like drains when I appeared.
“This isn’t funny.” I said. “Now where are my clothes?” Sharon shrugged and I knew I wasn’t going to get anything out of her, well nothing of mine anyway.
“I said I’d get you a t-shirt. I thought you might like all clean clothes instead.” she said with a look of complete innocence.
“You want to be careful or that halo is going to slip and trip you up something rotten.” I said, still huddled in the towel.
”Don’t you want to see what we’ve got for you?”
“I’d rather just have my clothes back if it’s all the same.”
“Oh no. We’re not going through that again are we? Haven’t you learnt?”
“Alright then, have it your way.” I said, took a deep breath and with an exaggerated note of resignation, said “What have you got for me to wear?”
“That’s better.” said Sharon and produced a whole outfit, if as I was about to find out, you could call it whole as my eyes widened, roaming over the offered garments.
A crop-top was the first item to be shown. It was white with a pastel flower motif on the front. Trouble was I could see even without putting it on, it was only just going to fall below my own breast area and if I was to poke it out further, i.e., by wearing a stuffed bra, it wouldn’t even reach that far.
Next was a bra, but this time it was a little more ornate than the last, a lacy pastel lilac number that matched the motif, with matching panties.
Lastly a skirt that made me gasp in horror. It was so short that I didn’t even know whether is would cover my arse, let alone anything else.
“Will that cover me?” I asked, suddenly very nervous indeed.
“Don’t know, but there’s only one way to find out eh?”
“You’re mad if you think I’m wearing that.”
“Now, now. There’s no need to be like that. We just want you to look your best to go into town.”
“Best?” I asked. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. Would we do anything to hurt you?”
“Hmm. Perhaps not physically, but you don’t mind the humiliation do you?”
“It’s no more than you deserve.”
What kind of statement was that?
I may be a pain-in-the-arse teenage boy, but to my knowledge, I’d never done anything to them, or more specifically, Sharon, to warrant this kind of treatment. My mind raced through the implications of what was happening and despite the knowledge that sex was out of the question if I didn’t go along with them, I couldn’t go through with this.
Last time was fun. It stayed between the five of us and no-one got hurt, but taking this outside into the big wide world was something I didn’t have in me to do — especially dressed in that gear.
“I’m sorry, no. I can’t do this.” I said and left the room.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t Becky that came out to see if I was alright, but Colleen.
“Are you alright?”
“Not really.” I said, sitting on the side of the bath, the towel pulled tightly around me.
“She doesn’t mean any harm you know.”
“Really. Well how about just asking me if I would mind dressing like that.”
“Would you agree?”
“No. Of course not!” I said, wondering just what kind of a question that was anyway.
“Well there you go.”
“Pardon?”
“Didn’t you enjoy last time?”
“Well, yeah, but that was just us.” I said. “I thought it was just a bit of fun and really, it had little or nothing to do with dressing up in the end.”
“So what makes you think this isn’t just a bit of fun or that you’re going to enjoy this time any less?” she asked.
“Because you want me — a boy,” I stressed ‘boy’ to make the point. “To go into town with you in that… that bunch of almost clothes looking like a little tramp.” I was starting to lose it.
“Alright, I’ll have a word with her. Perhaps she’ll put something a little less revealing together.”
“Can’t I just have my clothes back?”
There was no answer and I could feel the little teardrop as it ran down over my cheek. I couldn’t believe I was getting so upset over a silly prank, but silly or not, I was still being expected to go out as a girl when quite clearly I wasn’t one.
“Alright. You can come in now.”
I reluctantly wandered into the bedroom where the skimpies had been replaced by some slightly less revealing clothes.
“Alright ‘little miss prim’. Try these.” said Sharon with a note of sarcasm and annoyance in her voice. I couldn’t believe how she was getting so arsy. I was the one who was going to have to parade myself round town looking like a girl and if she didn’t like it, why couldn’t she just give me my stuff back and let me go my own way?
She brought out a plain blue t-shirt and the underwear was the same, but the skirt had been replaced by another slightly longer one, which was much better, although I was still reluctant to go for it. Yes I enjoyed last time, but this meant facing the world as a girl and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all.
I grabbed the bundle of clothes and headed for the bathroom. I didn’t have anything to stuff the bra with, but the panties fitted alright. It was a strange sensation — the lace I mean. It looked really nice, but the feel of it wasn’t nearly as nice as the satin.
Before too long, I was dressed and the short skirt didn’t look too bad. If I looked at myself from the side, I could almost tell myself that it was actually a pair of shorts.
That faded as soon as I took a step though as without tights and with the ninety-percent-air panties, I got a very odd — though not entirely unpleasant sensation around the jewels.
“There she is!” said Judy and all the girls clambered over the bed and gathered round me.
“What about shoes?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got that all under control.” said Sharon with a smirk, lifting the t-shirt and stuffing a stocking or something into each of the bra cups.
I now had tits — sort of.
Off she went again and returned with a pair of what I can only describe as stilts. “Here, put these on.”
Last time, the shoes were a bit big. I wondered whether ‘big’ would have been an apt description of these too. At least if they were, I would have an excuse for something more my style — like trainers; yup, trainers would be good.
“Can you walk in these?” Sharon asked after helping me on with them. I stood up — after a fashion.
“Never mind walk, can I stand may have been a better question. Do I get oxygen with these? The air’s definitely rarer up here.” They laughed and I took my first tentative steps straight towards the floor.
“I think she’s going to need to practice.” said Colleen.
What was it with the “she’s” all over the place. I was still a male, or I was last time I looked, but as I stood up, I caught a glimpse in the mirror and well, from the chest down, male didn’t come into it.
I carried on trying to walk and after one or two pointers, I actually managed four whole steps without kissing the carpet.
“I don’t know that these are a good idea.” I said.
“Nonsense!” said Sharon. “I wore my first pair out of the shop.”
Oh bugger. Now I was for it.
I sat on the bed and once again, the girls gathered; all except Becky.
“Her hair’s wet. Perhaps we can do something with it.” said one.
“Bags I do the makeup.” said another and once again, I felt all control vaporise.
Colleen, Judy and Sharon fussed around me and as I looked in the mirror, I could see Becky. Why wasn’t she joining in? Last time, if it hadn’t been for her, I would probably got really annoyed and then scared — alright, more scared, as Sharon wasn’t one to be messed with and I was quite a bit smaller than her.
Soon though, I was sporting a new hairstyle which I thought would have been alright but for the fact that I wasn’t a girl and as far as the makeup was concerned, well that did its usual job of covering up the last vestiges of maleness as once again, I didn’t look like who I was, or rather, I wasn’t what I looked like.
Sharon, Colleen and Judy rushed the bathroom and began sprucing up and primping.
“You’re not happy, Becky?”
“I didn’t want them to do this.”
“There was nothing you could do; not on your own anyway.”
“No, but I could have done something.”
“Don’t worry about it. If necessary, I can give them the slip when we’re out.”
Walking becomes easier if you’re being woman-handled along the road. I found that by concentrating hard and not thinking too much about how far above the pavement I really was, I could just about manage it, but I was stumped when they all ran for the bus into town and I was still trying desperately to keep up a steady, but fairly slow walk.
“Come on!” they called and I did my level best to up the pace as the bus waited by the kerb.
We all went to our seats and I sat down, my feet already starting a petition to ban these shoes and, conscious of the fact that I was in a short skirt, tried to sit with my legs clamped so tightly together I think walnuts would have winced.
The bus jerked and bounced its way along the road and the little old man who sat opposite got an eye full as the bus driver hit the brakes and I rolled slightly sideways (as the others did too) and I opened my legs, displaying my panties.
“You’re going to have to watch out for that.” said Judy quietly and I turned a shade of crimson.
“Thanks for the warning.”
If getting on the bus was hard, getting off was something else entirely. I tried my best, but ended up making a complete pig’s ear of it as people looked on grinning.
“Remind me not to listen to you ever again.” I said to any of the girls who could hear me above their laughter.
We wandered along at an easy pace, which was good, because it allowed me to get the hang of the ridiculously high heels I was wearing. Now I know why they’re called ‘killer heels’ and hats off to those who mastered them. I was improving though.
The girls stopped regularly to look in shop windows and I think I was spending so much time concentrating on staying upright, that I completely failed to notice anyone else around. I suppose the shoes had to be good for something.
Anyway, in my attempt to look nonchalant and like I always wore shoes like these, I didn’t notice Jocelyn Tanner coming towards us.
“Alex?” she said and tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned and there she was. One of those girls at school that every boy was hoping to get to go out with and none of them succeeded — though a few of them had lied.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I thought you were someone else.” she said as I turned to face her. I smiled and she smiled back. Becky came over moments later.
“Hands off. She’s mine.”
Jocelyn blinked as Becky gave me a full-on tonsil tickling kiss that I’m surprised didn’t cause a traffic pile-up.
“I wasn’t… I mean… I’m sorry. You just look so much like someone I know at school.”
“Yeah, well it isn’t her.” said Becky spitefully and I felt sorry for Jocelyn, who had no idea what was going on and Becky’s sudden change of behaviour made me wince.
Jocelyn looked hurt and shocked, but retained a dignified stance. Looking directly at me, she said, “Tell your brother I’ll see him at school.” and with that, she turned and carried on up the road.
“Brother?” said Becky. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“I don’t. Anyway, there was no need to be like that.” I admonished. “She was just trying to be friendly.”
“Yeah. Friendly straight into your knickers!” she retorted.
That was the last straw. Becky or not, I wasn’t going to stand for this. Not one of the girls had seemed to take any notice of me for three weeks and then the first time they see me again, I’m treated like some sort of plaything. I know there are men out there that would give their eye-teeth for a chance like this, indeed, would probably be willing to kill for the chance that I got just a few weeks ago, but there’s a limit to how much leading round by my di, er nose, I was prepared to put up with.
What annoyed me more than anything was that Becky wasn’t prepared to say anything about what Sharon had planned, if it even was Sharon, but the moment that someone else so much as said a single word to me, there she was, claws out and spitefulness at maximum.
“If you’re going to be like that, you can do it on your own.” I said and turned to walk away.
“Hey! I didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah well, don’t you think I’ve had enough of this for one day? First you steal my clothes and now you’re stopping me talking to anyone. Is there anything else, handcuffs maybe? A leash perhaps?”
“Good ideas all.” she said. “But wait till we get home.”
“It’s not funny anymore, Becky. I’ve had enough and I don’t want to play. I didn’t want to play in the first place, but your control-freak buddies gave me no choice. Maybe if I’d had some support from you, it would have been easier to take, but no. You just sat there and did nothing. If you want to fuck about with someone’s life, someone’s head, find some other sorry wanker to do it with. I’ve had it with all of you.”
With that I turned and walked away.
Half of me was hoping to hear Becky’s voice saying “don’t go.” but it didn’t happen. I got about twenty yards down the road, thought “sod this” and took the shoes off. I walked the rest of the way carrying them.
True, I probably missed out on some great sex, but only if I was prepared to put up with all the piss-arsing around. Somehow, it didn’t seem like the price was worth the prize.
I thought that out of all of them, Becky was different, but then what did I know? I certainly didn’t think I would find myself wandering down the main road, miles from home in a skirt and matching bra and panty set, with a pair of ludicrously high heeled stilettos in my hand.
“Excuse me.” said a voice. I thought it was just another voice in a busy town, but it seemed to follow me.
“Excuse me.” it said again followed by a touch on the shoulder. I spun round and was about to give the owner a right bollocking when who should I see but Jocelyn.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t realise it was you. You startled me.” I said. She smiled and looked up and down the road.
“Where’s your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” I said in an almost defensive/aggressive sort of way. “I’m so sorry. She had no right to say or do what she did and I felt really awful when you left.”
“My fault.” she said. “I thought you were someone else. Obviously I was wrong.”
I so wanted to confess, there and then, just get it the hell out of my system, into the open and have done with it. It wasn’t that I trusted Jocelyn any more than any of the other girls, but there was something about the way she controlled herself when Becky went off on one that told me that she was different.
I just wanted this to be over. I felt very stupid having allowed myself to be manipulated, to allow the sex ‘carrot’ to be dangled in front of my face and to actually let them dictate to me that I should play along to the letter in order that if they were feeling like it, I might get that reward at the end, however, it would have more than likely been not.
“Is Alex your brother?” she asked as we wandered back along the road.
“Er, no.” I said, wondering if it was the time to tell the truth.
“He looks very like you. Not as cute though.”
Oh dear. I could feel this all starting to spiral down the drain again.
“You think I’m cute?”
“A bit skinny maybe, but…” she looked down at her feet and mumbled something, just as a bus thundered past, its air brakes hissing.
I didn’t get that last bit, but I didn’t need to hear it to know that it was positive. Her slight flush and the fact that she couldn’t look at me and say it sort of pointed in that direction.
I don’t know whether it was just observational — I mean girls seem to be able to admit when another girl is pretty, unlike men, who couldn’t possibly comment on whether another man is good looking or a bag of spanners most of the time. On the other hand, was it because she actually liked what she saw? That was something else altogether.
I took my life into my hands and assumed the best.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” I said and the blush that elicited almost produced egg-frying heat.
“I, er, um, have to go now.” she said doing that fidgeting thing and going all girly.
“It was nice talking to you.” I said and smiled; which just seemed to make her squirm all over the place and blush even more.
Then she took my breath away by kissing me full on the mouth and running away.
I stood there, my fingers going to my lips and a blush forming on my face too. I couldn’t believe it.
I’d just kissed, er, been kissed by Jocelyn Tanner.
No-one would believe it, but well, it was true and my heart was pounding like it was about to burst out of my chest.
Somehow, my appearance melted out of my head now I had something else to focus on. I veritably skipped home, which didn’t occur to me that that was what I was doing.
When I got to my home, I realised my problems were just beginning.
It was about a three mile walk back to my house and I didn’t feel any of it. I was so elated when I got to talk to Jocelyn and on another planet after that simple kiss.
I stopped at the front door of my house suddenly realising I had no key. In fact, all my stuff; my money, my keys — everything was at Ronnie’s, wherever Sharon had decided to stash it.
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” I said and stood there like a complete idiot for some time, just staring at the door, trying to work out whether there was a way in without breaking anything.
No.
Mum was pretty hot on locking up and the place was shut tighter than a duck’s bum - watertight!
I went back round to Ronnie’s, but the girls hadn’t returned and even if they had, they weren’t answering the door.
I was in real trouble now.
I sat on the step, toying with the idea of waiting for the girls, but I had no idea whether they were going to come back sooner or later — or at all.
Ages passed and I was getting more and more despondent as I realised that the only way I was going to get back into my house before midnight at least was in one of two ways: either a) I wait for the girls, but they may already be in and knowing them, could be up to anything, which would explain why the door wasn’t being answered or b) I could go to the function and get a key from mum.
I know which I preferred — waiting for the girls, but who knew when they were due back?
I waited some more and still there was no sign of Sharon or the rest of the girls.
It was a long walk to the function, which took me away from the main road and any likelihood of being spotted by Sharon or her friends. With each step, the weight of what I was doing, the way I looked as I was doing it and what was the likely reaction upon arrival got greater and greater.
I was all in and my feet were pretty sore after having trudged the whole way in bare feet. I looked at the place where the function was being held and decided to smarten myself up, though all that entailed was putting the shoes on again.
A man was standing at the entrance.
“You’re very late. Do you have a ticket?” he asked.
“Ticket? Er, no, I’m here to see my mum. She’s doing the food I think with Ronnie?”
“Oh, May and Ron. Why didn’t you say? Wait there.”
I stood outside, my heart thumping louder and louder in my chest as I waited for the moment when mum would say “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”
Sitting on the step, I waited as in due course, the man arrived.
“Here she is.” I stood up hearing this, my back to both mum and the man on the door.
“I don’t know…” mum began, just as I turned and her eyes went wide.
“I’m so sorry mum.” I said. “I haven’t got my key and I can’t get in.”
She stood there looking at me like I was something off Mars or something. Can’t say as I blame her, but there I was and I could feel tears starting to well up.
“Come in quickly.” she said and hustled me inside.
Skirting round the edge of the function room, I could see Ronnie at the end behind a table, serving food to a line of people.
“In here quickly.” said mum. I followed her into a large store-room and she folded her arms. I knew this was it. All my birthday treats were about to disappear and I think that would last until my late sixties.
“I can explain…” I said, but surprise is not an adequate word here; total shock, might more aptly cover it as she opened her arms and sobbing like the girl I appeared, I got the best hug I have ever had.
“Hey.” she said quietly. “Your makeup will go everywhere.” She took out a tissue to blot the tears without doing massive damage to my mascara or eyeliner.
“I didn’t want to do it, but Sharon made me wear these instead… It was all supposed to be a joke, but…” It was hard to tell and I felt a complete arsehole for ratting them out, but in this case, it was no more than they deserved this time.
“It’s alright.” she said. “You’re safe and while you’re here, you can make yourself useful.”
Not fin…
Happy Birthday, Jocelyn
© Nick B May 2007
Alex's rejection of Sharon, her friends and her controlling ways, led him to meet Jocelyn, a girl from his school, who invites his alter ego to a birthday party, but Alex has no idea how he can get to go...
Thanks Kris, you came through yet again.
Disclaimer:
Any similarity to persons living or dead would shock the hell out of me. I think parents can sometimes surprise you. Mine? Well that's another story altogether...
My sojourn into the land of femininity was never planned and I suppose thinking about it, I should never have trusted those girls any further than I could spit. The thing is though; I thought I could trust Becky.
True I got my first full-on experience with a girl, but I wasn’t expecting her to turn out to be a bloody psycho; well her friends were anyway, but that’s enough about them. I owe them because without them I wouldn’t have been kissed by Jocelyn Tanner, so I guess I should be grateful, but all in all, I think I’m well rid.
I thought I had got away with turning up to the function en-femme as they say, at least as far as mum was concerned, but the next morning, she said we needed to have ‘a chat’ about it after I phoned Ronnie. I needed to ask whether Sharon would mind waiting for the return of her clothes until after mum had washed them.
“What do I want them for?” asked Sharon who actually answered the phone.
“Well, they are yours.”
“You must be out of your tiny mind if you think I’m going to put them anywhere near me after you’ve had them on. You’re having a laugh.”
“I’m not and I wasn’t. They’re yours. I just wanted to give them back is all.”
“Well you can do what you like with them, I don’t care. I don’t even know why we even gave you the chance to be one of us, thinking you would enjoy the surprise we had, but you’re not even worth it and your dick is really tiny. Becky said they should have named you Justin, not Alex.” and with that, she put the phone down.
I blinked several times before her words got through, at about the same time as the tears. I expected some sort of retaliation, but not that. Her words had rung clear and loud through the receiver; loud enough for mum to hear most of what Sharon said.
She put her arm round me and offered her sympathy. Although I really didn’t need to hear what Sharon said, it did put paid to any further questioning about what I had been wearing the night before.
I still felt a pang of guilt for having spoken to Becky the way I did and I kind of laid the blame for the whole situation on her, which was what I felt was so wrong about how I handled it, but she more than got her own back for that if Sharon was to be believed.
I didn’t think she was as bad as the rest of them and still don’t. Perhaps if she was away from the influences of Sharon’s power-hungry, manipulative group, she would show herself to be a really nice person.
The real surprise came at the end of it all when mum said that she thought I did a very good job at the function and worked really hard. She said she was really proud of me and that the customers paid me lots of compliments. She did say that she had to keep telling herself that I was her son and not her daughter as I busied myself clearing tables, dealing with the customers and I wasn’t sure how she really felt about that.
Another week of school went past, which as I said last time, wasn’t so bad anymore, but I did get a nasty shock. Actually, it could have been a really good shock, but that all depends upon how you look at it.
Wednesday, I was just going into school and I bumped into Jocelyn — literally. The moment I saw it was her I had a total gob failure. I opened and closed it several times, but nothing more than a squeak came out.
I didn’t have that trouble on Saturday. I didn’t have any trouble at all, but now, it was like I had lockjaw; no, not lockjaw — lock-voice, but before I had time to fathom what had altered my ability to talk — probably something mum would be pleased to have a bottle of if she could get it, she started talking.
“Alex!” she said, startled by the intrusion and then looked very nervous. She looked as though she was in two minds about something, wrestling with herself over whatever it was and then deciding to go for it, her words tumbled over themselves to hit me in a barrage while she fidgeted and wrung her hands.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I met a relation of yours on Saturday. It’s so weird, but I thought she was you. Can you believe that? Anyway, I don’t know how to get in touch and wondered if you’d give her this.” she said all in one breath and surreptitiously slipped an envelope into my hand. Just like last time - but without the kiss, she ran off.
Well that was it for me. I didn’t get any bloody peace after that.
I didn’t think much of the encounter itself apart from the shock of me not being able to speak this time, but apparently, I had got closer than any other boy in school to Jocelyn Tanner and became something of an enigma amongst the rest of the boys.
“So, you going out with her?” asked one of the bigger boys and by that, I mean full-sized.
“No!” I said assertively, but he just winked at me and grinned, punching my shoulder as he left saying “Way to go kid.” I grinned back; more because I didn’t know what else to do than because I’d apparently boldly gone where no boy had gone before. I gently rubbed my shoulder to make sure nothing was broken.
This continued all through the day, gaining momentum as more people got to hear the strange tale of how Alex Collins was going out with the Jocelyn Tanner.
I’d even told them that I wasn’t going out with her. I wished I was, but they knew what they’d seen and that was apparently enough.
The halls and corridors, class-rooms and playground were a minefield of whispers behind hands, looks and giggles or outright stares and I felt awful. Awful good, but at the same time, I knew the truth and that made me feel awful bad, like I was lying to her, but I didn’t even know her - really.
She was infatuated with something or someone that didn’t really exist and now, her reputation was on the line as the most beautiful and sought-after girl in school was going out with the most avoided, scrawniest little boy in school — according to the general consensus of opinion that was. I even overheard one lad, tall and extremely well developed asking his mate — equally tall and well developed, what I had that they didn’t. I didn’t dare tell them it was the fact I looked good in a skirt.
Later that day, I sat on my bed in total wonder at how I had managed to go from zero to… well, perhaps not hero, but definitely a somebody in the course of just one school day and all because Jocelyn had spoken to me, slipping me that note.
The note!
Of course! I hadn’t even had time look at that. I retrieved it from the depths of my pocket.
The envelope was quite expensive, being thick and totally impossible to see through, but around a large ornately hand-drawn question mark, were hundreds of little flower designs in purples, pinks and reds and all as intricately hand-drawn as the question mark.
I removed the note from inside and read it.
Dear ???,
Ever since we met on Saturday, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I don’t normally do this, but I have no other way to speak you as Alex and I tend to move in very different circles.
I just wish I’d had the guts to kiss you properly — I wanted to, but I didn’t know how you would react. I saw you kissing that blonde, so I figured what I did would be alright, but I wasn’t sure.
I’ve never done anything like this, felt like this or had anything like this happen to me before and I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re on my mind when I wake up, last thing at night and a lot of times in between, especially when I see Alex. You could be his sister you know.
It’s my birthday on Thursday and my parents have arranged a party for me on the following Saturday night. I would be really pleased if you could come.
It’s at [address withheld for legal reasons, although it was written on the note] from six o’clock.
All my love
Jocelyn.
XXX
“All my love?” I said to myself in amazement.
Every ‘i’ had been ‘dotted’ with a little red love heart and there were flowers like those on the envelope drawn all over the place. It must have taken her hours to do. It made my heart flutter and yet at the same time, scared me, but hey; the plus side was: Jocelyn Tanner asked me out and once I had got over that feeling of the collywobbles, I very much wanted to go.
Then it dawned on me.
Jocelyn hadn’t asked me. Well she had, but she hadn’t. It was all starting to get really complicated. She had actually asked the person she thought she met on Saturday, little knowing that it was me.
My ‘collywobble high’ dissipated like smoke in the wind and I came crashing down to earth with a bump.
It seemed to me that what started as a laugh, as a joke between Sharon, her friends and I (though admittedly I still find it hard to see the funny side - well after the initial fun anyway), was having much further reaching implications and I had to be honest with myself how I felt about this whole dressing as a girl thing and the upshot of that was I really wasn’t that keen, but if I wanted to go to Jocelyn’s party, I was going to have to go as a girl.
Why?
She was expecting the other me, that’s why; the ‘me’ that didn’t have trouble talking to her, the girly me. The ‘me’ I didn’t want to be.
It wasn’t going to stop me going though, well mum might, but that wouldn’t. The only hurdle I had left to leap over now was how I was going to explain to mum why I wanted to go as a girl.
“Hey mum. I’ve been invited to a party and I’d really like to go, but see now here’s the thing. I have to go as a girl.”
That wouldn’t work.
What about “Hey mum, you know the other night when I turned up at that function in a skirt and stuff? Well I met a girl from school before I got there and she’s invited me to her birthday party. It’s really funny, but she thinks I’m a girl so I would have to go dressed…”?
Nah! That one didn’t even get off the ground.
There had to be some way of convincing mum that my going as a girl was a good idea.
With the party on Saturday, I had very little time to formulate a plan.
Mum had evidently spoken to Ronnie who was having trouble with Sharon because of what she and the girls did to me and I didn’t think adding that to all the confusion was a wise move.
Sharon had apparently had a really big argument when Ronnie had told her that what she and the girls did to me was bang out of order. Sharon naturally denied it, saying that I had begged them to let me join in, which was not what mum had heard on the phone.
What a joke!
Fortunately, Ronnie knew that I did not as Sharon had suggested, go into it willingly having first been appraised of the situation by mum and because Ronnie appeared to take my side, Sharon threw an absolute wobbly, disappearing from that moment on and hadn’t been seen since. It was only a couple of days, but Ron was pretty upset.
There was only half a week to go though. I had to do something.
“Mum?” I said when I had gauged that she was in a fairly receptive mood. “I’ve been invited to a party on Saturday night and I was wondering if it would be alright if I went."
Mum’s look didn’t inspire confidence.
“And whose party is it?” she asked suspiciously.
“It’s Jocelyn’s. She’s a girl from my school. It’s her birthday.”
“Oh yes?”
“Yes, but here’s the thing. Jocelyn and I met on Saturday when I was — you know.” I said making hourglass shapes down the side of my body. “Anyway, she thinks I’m a girl, so I would have to go… well…um… as a girl.” It felt quite strange, amazing and strange to hear that come out of my own mouth. Did I really want to go looking all girly? Well, no, but as they say, when all you’ve got is lemons, make lemonade. Who the hell comes up with all this crap? I didn’t know what lemonade had to do with dressing up as a girl, but well…
Mum’s eyes went wide. Then…
I don’t think you want to hear this part, but suffice it to say, I got a half-hour lecture on lying to get a girl’s, er, favour. She pointed out very deliberately and very slowly that the reason she was a single parent was because her ex-husband had done just that — not the dressing up bit, but lying to women — lots as it turns out.
She said something about philandering — whatever that means. She then went on to get very colourful and graphic about his parentage, what she would like to do to him and a host of other things I didn’t really want or need to hear.
“No” would have done.
“But mum…” I said in my best wheedling voice. “It’s not like that.”
I went on then to tell her exactly what happened on Saturday with regards Jocelyn and I said that as much as I wanted to tell her the truth, I couldn’t at school. If I turned up as Alex, I probably wouldn’t even get in, let alone a chance to explain things to her.
Mum was adamant.
“You’re not going to start dressing as a girl to deceive this Jocelyn girl or any other girl for that matter. It’s not right and more than that, it’s not healthy. You shouldn’t be wandering round masquerading as a girl anyway. It’s a dangerous game to play and I’m not going to let you get into that sort of thing and that’s that.”
That was pretty final alright.
I tried several times before the end of the week to give mum an argument that would tell her that all I wanted to do was tell Jocelyn the truth, but they were all arguments that like the fabled seeds, fell on stony ground, culminating in a “I thought I told you, you weren’t going to this party?”
I was completely stumped and very frustrated.
Friday came along and I had spent the days in between when Jocelyn gave me the note until now, trying to avoid her at all times, which proved rather difficult — unlike before all this started.
“Have you heard?” she asked when I had no choice but to face and speak to her.
“Um, I’m afraid not.” I replied solemnly, not having anything better to offer that would let her down gently without letting on that it was really me she was hoping to see and mum had told me no — several times.
“Oh.” she said, her normally smiley and open face showing obvious signs of disappointment. “Thanks anyway, Alex.”
I haven’t seen anyone look more like the bottom had just dropped out of their world as, with drooping shoulders she wandered off to wherever she was going. All I could do was stare after her, my heart feeling like I was the one who had just had a low flying hammer to the soft bits. I didn’t know what else to do.
I walked home Friday afternoon and arrived with a face as long as that wet weekend again; something I’m really good at, but this time I meant it.
I didn’t want to hurt Jocelyn and I although knew I hardly even knew her, I still felt like I was behaving in a despicable and entirely underhanded manner towards her.
Mum was on the phone when I went in and she waved to me to stay where I was.
“I’ll phone you back when I know…” she said and put the receiver down. Turning to me and biting her lower lip, she said “I’m glad you’re here. I need to ask you something.”
“Go on then, hit me with it.” I thought. It couldn’t be any worse than what happened earlier.
“Ron and I need to know whether you would be prepared to help out with Saturday’s function.”
My forehead wrinkled with my consternation and for you to know why, I need to tell you a little something about the business mum and Ronnie are trying to establish.
They run a small catering outfit that is in the infancy stages at the moment, but it’s completely run and manned (?) by women. There are a lot of companies starting up with a similar theme and it works. Sometimes women are more comfortable dealing with other women, not feeling that they’re so likely to get ripped off. Gardeners, plumbers, electricians and a whole load of other trades are being represented solely by women. Theirs was another.
You can see where this is heading can’t you?
“But you said you didn’t want…”
“I know what I said, but this is an emergency.”
“Why me?”
“It’s just that we need someone for tomorrow afternoon and well, we can’t get anyone in at such short notice. Sharon still hasn’t turned up and Ronnie’s afraid that there’s too much work for the two of us, so will you?”
“You wouldn’t let me go to the party because I would be deceiving people ‘masquerading’ as a girl, but this is alright?”
“Don’t get smart young man.”
“I was just trying to get my head round the concept, that’s all.”
“Look Alex, it’s quite simple. Ronnie and I need someone to work with us and you are the natural choice sine we know you can do it.”
“I’d hardly say ‘natural’. Would you?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have asked you. You’re still pissed off because I wouldn’t let you go to the party.”
“You have to admit. It is pretty ironic, wouldn’t you say? The only girl you can get is a boy.”
“Will you do it?”
“I’ve got nothing else to do.”
The sound of cracking ribs could clearly be heard as mum grabbed me and gave me one helluva hug. I went to my room while she was on the phone again, this time telling Ronnie that they had their help.
I was completely gobsmacked. I couldn’t understand how it was alright to create deception for a whole bunch of paying customers, but not to create deception for one girl where the initial deception wasn’t planned in the first place and latter deception was just to enable the initial deception to be clarified, so as not to make it a deception anymore.
It’s one crazy fucked-up world alright.
I was about to grab a comic or two and while away some time when mum hurried into the bedroom.
“Come on you. There’s no time to waste, get changed. We’re going to have to get you some clothes.”
I have to say, I was just the slightest bit confused. Changed into what?
She chucked the lace bra and panties onto the bed, got the skirt and shoes and started rifling through my drawers to find a suitable top.
“We haven’t got anything more appropriate to stuff you with right now, so we’ll use these again.” she said also chucking the stockings onto the bed. “Come on chop-chop!”
I stared open-mouthed at my own mother who was at this precise minute, waiting for me to transform myself into a girl.
It just got weirder and weirder.
I was dressed in no time and wandered out of my bedroom, feeling that the first steps in the shoes were strange after having worn boy’s shoes or trainers all week, but my feet soon remembered.
“We’ll need you to have some makeup, but not much.” she said sitting me down in front of her vanity.
Soon I had lipstick, eye liner; some blush and then mum started messing with my hair.
“Looks like we’ll have to visit the hairdresser’s too.” she said, looking at her watch.
“But mum, what about school? I don’t want a girly style to go to school with.”
“It’s alright. We’ll just get it trimmed.”
Next thing I know, my hair had been brushed out and we were heading at breakneck speed into town.
I’ll tell you, I have never seen any woman shop at the speed she was shopping. I didn’t think we were going to get home much before midnight, but I barely had the time to try stuff on before it was being bagged and we were heading in a different direction.
I didn’t even have time to get embarrassed and the only time I got slightly miffed was when mum described me a slow developer; “up top” she mouthed, which got an understanding look from the assistant and before the colour could rise to my cheeks, I was already heading for another shop.
Talk about whirlwind or whistle-stop…
I got dropped into a hair stylist and mum told the young girl there that she didn’t want the hair too flouncy, but just tidied.
The girl looked at me and giggled, but when she’d finished, I have to say, I liked it. I didn’t know what I was going to do about school, but I figured I could work that out later.
Meanwhile, mum was doing a pretty good ‘Wonder Woman’ impersonation and returned just before I was finished with bags from three more shops in her hands. Where she got the time, energy or whatever, was a complete mystery to me.
Back at the ranch, mum and I struggled up the stairs with bags from just about every women’s wear retailer in town and I just stared open mouthed (again) at all the stuff.
“All this for one night?” I asked.
“You can’t be too careful.” She said and it fell to me to raise an eyebrow.
“Okay,” she giggled. “I got carried away. It’s not everyday a mum gets to shop like that for her daughter.” and immediately covered her mouth with her hand.
“Mum, I’m your son.”
“Have you looked at yourself?”
I went into her bedroom and looked in the mirror.
I think falling down was a good thing. Passing-out sounds so, well like I was drunk or drugged and I wasn’t either, just completely overcome with the change. If what Sharon et al had done was convincing, this left that and headed into orbit. I saw no traces of a boy just pure girl and I have to say that it took my breath away; so much so that I really did faint dead away.
I opened my eyes to find my head in mums lap as she fanned me with a magazine and peered over me with a concerned look on her face.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“I’m er, fine. I was just examining the pattern on this carpet.” I said and we both collapsed in gales of laughter.
She spent the next hour or so showing me all the things ‘we’ had bought culminating in a plain box about the size of a large shoebox.
“Go on. Open it.” I could see she was excited and this worried me. I already had already expanded my wardrobe by hundreds of percent, so what on earth was this?
“What on earth?” I said as I opened the box. “Oh my God! They look almost real.” and they did too.
Inside the box were a pair of the most lifelike boobs I had ever seen, not that I’d seen many boobs up close you understand, but these took the biscuit, matching my skin colour almost perfectly, the nipples semi-erect and dark, just as I remember the real thing being.
“Oh mum. These must have cost a fortune.” I said beginning to shake.
“They weren’t cheap, that’s for sure.”
“But why?”
“It’s more for safety than anything else. Those things you had stuffed down the front of your bra were alright, but didn’t stand up to close scrutiny and I don’t want any of us embarrassed by someone questioning that you’re anything other than a real girl.”
“All this for one night’s work?” I asked. “And anyway, how close id anyone likely to get?”
“Who knows? You may work more often, but anyway, it’s the first and possibly the only time that I’ve been able to do things with a daughter — even if you’re not really my daughter. It was just nice for a single moment…” she said and I could see her eyes filling up.
“Hey, it’s alright mum.” I said and it was my turn to make her feel better with a nice hug.
“Thanks.” she said. “I always wanted to have a daughter — as well as, not instead of, but it never happened. If I had, I was going to call her Michelle, have you thought of an alternative name?”
“I hadn’t, but Michelle sounds like it fits. I like it.”
“I thought you might, so ‘Michelle’ will be going to work with us tomorrow. I’ve told Ronnie it’s your name, but she doesn’t know it’s you. Let’s see how long it takes her to twig.” she gave me a hug and I took another look at the ‘breasts’
“More like ‘beasts’.” I thought, smiling before replacing the lid and going into my room.
The next day mum had given me strict instructions to be at home by midday — or else.
I mooched all morning, trying to better understand what was going on. I wasn’t a girl and as I looked in the mirror, I found it hard to see that I was anything other than I boy.
My hair was all over the place and not at all like it had been finished by the stylist the previous evening. I was in a pair of shabby jeans with an oversized t-shirt that kind of hid what wasn’t present underneath. I was thin, not at all like the other boys of my age — well mostly anyway and the large outer garment sort of disguised that.
Did I really want to go through with this function thing later?
I supposed not, but I had already agreed and Michelle was going to make her debut. I was scared and yet at the same time, excited. It was very confusing, but the thought of doing something for mum was very cathartic. I kind of felt that it made up for the trouble I had caused. True, being sent home was not my fault, but I was enough of an ass to have got myself into that kind of trouble all by myself sooner or later anyway.
I tried reading my favourite comics to take my mind off it all.
By the time mum came home, she was like a cat on a hot tin roof, itching to get started.
“Start with a bath.” she said.
“But I had a bath last night.” I argued.
“Doesn’t matter. We need you spotless. Now I bought this earlier and I want to use it under your arms and from your privates down to your feet before you bath. Just follow the instructions and rinse it off under the shower.”
“What’s all this?” I asked and my eyebrows nearly shot off my head when I saw those two words — “Hair Remover”. “Hey, mum, I can’t use this.”
“You can this once. You may find you want, or need to do it again later, but for today you will use it, alright? Now come along, we haven’t got all day.”
By the time I got in the bath, I felt as though I needed one. I needed to get rid of the smell of the hair remover and having used the stuff, I felt as though I had shoved myself off the top of the helter-skelter and there was no stopping until I reached the bottom. There was so much to get my head round.
This was real. The last two times I had been dressed up, were nothing compared to this.
I have to say though that the hair remover did a great job and I was surprised how soft and silky my legs felt. I was a bit sad to see my six pubes go, but I suppose they’d always grow back.
Once I was out of the bath, mum had me in a new pair of white panties, lying on the bed and was studying the instructions on one of the tins that came with the beasts.
“What’s that for?”
“Preparation for these.” she said pointing at the box.
“What sort of preparation.” I asked, fearing there was something coming I wasn’t going to like much.
“These are glued on.”
“Glued?” I asked. “GLUED??” I said again, my voice going up an octave or more.
“There seems to be an echo in here, or have my ears gone wonky?”
“But mum.” I spluttered.
“It’s alright you silly sausage, they’ll come off again.” she said, adding “I hope” quietly. I wasn’t sure that was what I wanted at all. I knew I’d agreed to help out, but I had no idea it would lead to all this. I was loath to say anything since mum seemed to be having so much fun and I have to say, after yesterday, I was looking forward to seeing what the end result would be.
By the time the beasts were firmly stuck in place, a small amount of makeup was applied around the joins and I was told to go and get dressed. I just had to see them and was fair blown away when I looked at them in the mirror.
‘I’m actually jealous.” said mum. “Mine have never looked like that.”
The beasts had weight; weight I wasn’t expecting and they jiggled. I started getting fits of the giggles as I jiggled. It took mum a good few minutes to calm me down, but not before we’d both laughed at the fact that these things were more realistic than either of us had expected.
The laughter died and I went back to dressing. Mum had bought me a new bra to go with the panties I had on and once in place, my beasts looked like they had developed with the rest of me. I stood in front of the mirror for a good few minutes looking and was completely lost for words.
I had to sit on the bed for a couple of minutes.
Cold feet?
I should say so. The girls just took me and put me through a burger machine of this and that and my alter ego just fell out the other end; simple.
Here, I was calculatingly going through the motions many women go through on a daily basis and again, the real-ness of the situation caught me off guard.
I was fidgeting with the stockings that Sharon had used to stuff my bra with and as I fidgeted, they came unravelled, to wind up as a pair of seamed black fishnet self-supporting stockings.
Willy immediately started to get curious and I felt a shiver of excitement flow down my body, not stopping before my toes started to curl.
I rolled them up and pointing my toes as if I was going to wear the tights mum had given me and taken great pains to explain how I was to put them on, I rolled the first one up my leg to my silky-smooth thigh.
No wonder women like wearing these things. I can’t describe how sexy they made me feel. I was of course, careful to ensure that the seams were straight and then I pulled on the skirt.
“Mum, where are my shoes?”
“They’re just finished.”
“Finished?” I thought. I didn’t even know they’d started.
“I padded into the kitchen to see that the shoes that I had been ‘given’ by Sharon had miraculously changed from red to black.
“They’re by the table. They’ll look better with your outfit.” said mum without turning to look at me and I took them out to put on in private, so I could still surprise her.
When I returned, mum asked me to turn round so she could see properly as I stood before her in a white blouse, black pencil skirt, stockings and now shoes too. I still had makeup and a hairdo to go through, but as an intermediate check, neither mum nor I were expecting what we saw. That’s when she saw the stockings.
“You look amazing.” she said. “But where did you get the stockings?”
“They’re my old tits.” I said with aplomb and we both dissolved into laughter again.
Mum had a very different way of applying makeup, more sophisticated, grown up looking as opposed to the way so many teenage girls do it. As a result, I looked a lot older than I really was, but boy, what a change. Once again, the job that the girls did paled into insignificance by comparison.
Lastly, she did my hair and after a quick spritz of Diorella, the effect was complete.
I sat there staring into the mirror. It was all I could do to stop the tears and I could see through the haze of emotion that mum was the same. Instead of the small, skinny boy that used to look at me in the mirror, a young sophisticated woman stared back.
I was having big problems getting to grips with this.
I didn’t want to be a girl, never had, but I had to admit it came easy to me. I fitted and was taken seriously, unlike the boy who was something of a loner and not by choice. Michelle as I now was — at least for the duration, was outgoing, bubbly and easy to get on with. There seemed fewer negatives to being a girl than a boy and then the questions really started.
Oh boy was I in deep.
We arrived at Ronnie’s and just as mum thought, she had no idea who I was. I smiled at mum as Ronnie gave me a perfunctory greeting and went back to what she was doing as mum and I started the task of taking boxes, trays and assorted other bits and pieces out to the van.
We got into the van and drove out to the venue, my stomach turning and turning as we neared our destination. I was shaky and it took a lot to just get on with things as I had that last time, but then I had had the chance to grow accustomed to things (then).
Ronnie didn’t seem to be any the wiser and the name Michelle seemed to echo with a strangely appealing ring around the function room as I dressed the tables, helped with decorations and generally made myself useful.
There was one good thing about being busy; it certainly took my mind off what was scaring the hell out of me, but it seemed that in no time at all, we were sitting for a couple of minutes before the customers were due to arrive.
Ronnie and mum were talking over things and I went and sat a little distance from them, trying to get myself in order before the onslaught of strangers. I was trying to get used to the feeling of having the beasts hanging off my chest and realised how so many women must be pleased about some support in the form of a bra. I couldn’t believe how much they didn’t so much get in the way, but had to be considered, I mean they did stick out a fair old way.
The door opened and a woman about mum’s age came in.
“Mrs. Tanner?” said mum. I think I went into overdrive at that very moment. Surely it couldn’t be?
“You must be May and Ronnie. It looks nice in here.” I looked around the room and in my effort to be busy I had completely missed the slogans on many of the posters, the bunting and so forth. “Happy Birthday” it read.
“Oh God!” I whispered.
“This is Michelle.” said mum and I stood up to greet Mrs. Tanner. It had to be her, the similarities were too obvious and I should know, the kiss a week ago and seeing her around school, had engraved her face onto my brain.
And there she was.
I had to turn away. Had to go and do something. I didn’t trust either of us if I didn’t.
I only caught a glimpse, but she still had that haunted look in her eyes, that look of disappointment and I didn’t know what to do. I was fidgeting. My hands were sweating and I rolled the paper napkin I was holding so tightly that it tore and I went to get another.
“You alright sweetheart?” asked mum.
“That’s her.” I whispered.
“Pardon?”
“That’s her.”
“Who’s who?” she said again and then the penny dropped.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know did I?”
There was nothing mum could argue with there. I didn’t know where we were going or coming to until we got here.
“You going to be alright?”
“Yeah. I’m here now, time to be a professional.”
“That’s my girl!” said mum as she went off to meet and greet as more people filed in through the doors.
I was going to have to have serious words with her about this “my girl” thing.
I managed to stay out of the way most of the time and every time I looked at Jocelyn, I felt worse and worse. Why was I trying so desperately hard to keep out of her way? Why was I leaving her to be miserable when all she wanted to do was see me? It didn’t mean that anything else was going to happen did it?
I gulped down some air and walked towards her, but somewhere midway between where I was and was heading for, I was called to do something else instead and when I finished, she was nowhere in sight.
I just felt totally rotten to the core. I should have just told her that the ‘relation’ she had met wasn’t interested, but then with the way things turned out, perhaps I was right to do things just the way I had. It didn’t stop the feeling that I was hurting inside because I felt I was hurting her.
I slipped out to the toilet and was going to sit in the cool for a couple of minutes and try and bring back the professional front that needed to be there, but when I got into the ladies, Jocelyn was already in there.
I stopped dead, staring at the girl stood before the sink. She was blotting her eyes and it looked as though she wasn’t really enjoying this very special of days.
“Why so glum?” I asked.
“I’m just a silly, stupid girl.” she said sniffing and not taking her eyes off the mirror.
“Really?”
“I asked someone to come and they didn’t. It was really dumb of me to expect it. I mean we only met once and even then it was only for a minute or two.” I went into the stall, not able to hold the call of nature back any more.
“You never know, they might come later.” I said through the door.
“Huh! I should be so lucky. No, I’ve just got to accept the fact that this is going to be the worst birthday party ever. I mean, it’s like mum doesn’t want me to have any fun. Everything’s been so carefully put together and those people? They’re all friends or business associates of hers, here for business reasons. It’s got nothing to do with my birthday. There’s no-one here from school, not one of my friends. It’s horrible.”
“There is one.” I said flushing the toilet and stepping out of the stall.
“Oh yeah?” she said. “Who?”
“Me.” I said, shaking like a jelly on the spin dryer. She turned.
“You? Who are…?” The mouth dropped open and I went a little closer, lifting her chin, closing it again.
“I didn’t know this is where I was going to be working, but well, call it fate, because here I am.” I took her hands in mine as she looked at me her eyes wide and starting once again to fill.
“You’re working?”
“Yeah. Mum and Ronnie own the business. Guess who got roped in?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Firstly, I didn’t know and secondly, there’s something really important I need to tell you.”
“You look, um, staggering.” she said. “I mean I liked you last time, but this? This is something else. Holy shit!”
“Thanks.” I said. “I really do need to tell you something though…” She put a finger to my lips and was moving in for a kiss when the door opened and in came her mum.
“What are you doing in here?” she said. “There are people out there who have come a long way to see you. What are you doing with my daughter?”
“I was just having a word. She was upset that someone she hoped to see wasn’t here and she got a little tearful is all. I think we managed to save her makeup before she got to the stage of looking like a panda though.”
Mrs. Tanner stood there looking from Jocelyn to me and back and before she had a chance to say anything I looked deep into Jocelyn’s eyes and told her that if there was anything she wanted to come find me.
I smiled at Mrs. Tanner as I left them to it, both of them looking a little shell-shocked.
The next time I saw Jocelyn, she was leading her rather bemused mother from the toilets and out into the main function room. I was serving or collecting or maybe both, but the slumped shoulders and look of misery was gone and a much more smiley - radiant even Jocelyn Tanner was in her place.
Later that evening as things were drawing to a close, I went again to spend a penny and when I came out Jocelyn was there.
“I’ve been waiting all night for this.” she said and taking my hand, she backed up against the door and pulled me in close. “I’m not letting anything stop me now either.”
I was about to say that I needed to tell her that there was something she needed to know, but before I could open my mouth — for words that is, she had it otherwise engaged, her tongue snaking around in mine and well, were it not for the fact that I was fairly well propped against her, I think my knees would have given way.
When we finally parted, she looked at me and giggled.
“Was I worth waiting for?”
“W-worth it?” I stammered, trying to stop seeing double and wondering where my knees had gone. “I should say so. Was I?”
“Oh God yes. Definitely.” she replied slightly breathlessly.
“Happy birthday Jocelyn and I am so glad I could make it, even if it wasn’t the way I wanted to.”
“It is now.” she said and gave me just a sweet little kiss that had my legs buckling all over again.
She did a fairly good job of checking me over and we walked out of the toilets, giving my bum a bit of a grope, well more of a stroke or pat really, before going back to her family and her mum’s friends.
I didn’t get to tell her what I needed to tell her, but I so desperately wanted to, needed to. I only had to look at her for my knees to start to tremble and the air to whoosh out of me, leaving me in a state of light-headedness and I could see that without a shadow of doubt, there was a big difference between what we had and what I had with Becky.
After no time at all, two… no three kisses, one stroke of my arse and a coupe of conversations, I was in love; in it up to my neck and sinking fast, with trouble no doubt following.
Mrs. Tanner and Jocelyn hung about until all of the party-goers were gone and I nearly missed her going altogether. I just managed to catch her as she was leaving.
“I hope you had a good time, Jocelyn.” I said.
“It was the best.” she said smiling and I could see that there was more she wanted to say, but her mum was pressing for them to leave. I nearly had tears in my eyes when the door closed behind them.
Mum was looking at me and I think she understood now what I meant by what I’d said about her at home. I turned back to the tables and began gathering the plates and cutlery, glasses as the door burst open and Jocelyn ran in, straight up to me and flung her arms round me. We hugged for a few moments, before she looked into my eyes and I just melted into her lips. I don’t know how long we were like that, probably no more than a moment, but it felt like a lifetime passed between us in that magical few seconds.
She pulled away, our eyes locked on one another and as she was about to leave, I suddenly thought.
“Wait!” I said, running to where mum and Ronnie were standing. “Have you got a pen and some paper, a napkin; anything?” In a flurry of thumbs, a pen appeared with a post-it. I wrote down our phone number and handed it to her, just as her mum came back in through the door.
“Please don’t dawdle now. We have to get home. Have you got what you came for?”
“Yes mum. Yes.”
“Thank you for a very pleasant evening.” she said to Ronnie and mum. I think she was under the impression that as an underling, I didn’t need to be acknowledged, but I smiled pleasantly to her anyway. The door closed with a click and I was brought back to the present.
“Earth calling Michelle!” said mum. “Boy you certainly can pick ‘em.” I just grinned back.
Ronnie didn’t guess who I was all evening and mum and I were almost rolling around laughing our arses off when we did break it to her.
I did wonder.” she said. “When I saw the two girls, I mean Alex and Jocelyn kissing.”
We couldn't believe it had gone on so long and Ronnie admitted I’d completely fooled her.
I had some serious thinking to do.
I supposed I could tell Jocelyn who I was over the phone, but I didn’t think that would go down too well. Well hopefully, if mum and Ron wanted any more work done, then perhaps a little give and take would be in order, after all, Michelle is a very nice girl isn’t she and it would seem a shame for her to have to be locked away in a box wouldn’t it? Never mind all those lovely clothes going to waste…
Not Fin…
TRUE
© Nick B May 2007
Alex finishes his first night as a catering assistant, as Michelle.
The next task is to tell Jocelyn...
This is the last outing for Alex for the time being, but I'm sure he'll grow; people always do, whether you want them to or not.
I know I say something like this every time, but big up to Kristina LS for her help as always and hugs for stopping it from all going Pete Tong on me.
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction and if you haven't figured that out yet, where ya been?
Any similarities between person living or dead would be... well you know the rest.
Michelle’s first night as a catering assistant was over, but her first night as a girlfriend had just begun.
Mum and I returned home and by mutual consent, said our goodnights, heading immediately for bed.
I sat on the edge of mine trying to fathom what was happening. Mum had gone from a conscientious objector to buying me clothes and even a pair of false boobs — the beasts — to enhance the look.
That wasn’t all.
Not only did I get to go to the party, I also got to kiss Jocelyn, or let her kiss me, I’m not sure how that works — well, we kissed anyway and it was great, but gnawing at my brain was the fact that I still hadn’t told her that Michelle was me, or I was Michelle. I’m not sure how that works either.
Anyway, I started to undress, removing the blouse — having trouble with the buttons as usual and then moved on to the skirt, letting it fall about my ankles and stepping out.
“I’ve left some makeup remover by the sink. Make sure you use it please. I don’t want smudges all over the pillow cases. Goodnight sweetheart.” said mum and I heard her bedroom door close.
“Goodnight mum.” I returned.
I padded round to the bathroom, wondering where this was going to end when I caught sight of myself again in the mirror. I stood there in the pristine white of the bra and panties, with my legs encased to the upper thigh in black fishnets with lace tops. My cleavage was perfectly visible and I couldn’t tell that it wasn’t real as the beasts stood out from the top of the cups. My face was still made up with my dark eyes glittering under mascara-extended lashes. The deep red of the lipstick, created a glossy and sensuous pout, all topped off with hair that hung in curls about my shoulders.
Where was Alex?
At least when I had been dressed by the girls, I could still see me, although a feminine version, it was still me. This wasn’t even me. It was someone else entirely and had it not been for the narrow hips and thighs, I would never have known it wasn’t a girl — all girl.
I padded back to the bedroom after I had finished; my head in a whirl.
What was happening to me?
This wasn’t just a bit of dress-up, this was full-on girliness and the thought that it came quite as easy as it did was daunting to say the least.
I looked good and no-one had even the slightest idea that I wasn’t what they saw, least of all Jocelyn and she got right up close and personal. If that wasn’t enough of a benchmark to gauge things by then I don’t know what was.
The scariest part was the fact that it didn’t feel as though I was pretending; didn’t feel as though I was acting, I was just being me. Perhaps there was a switch in me that changed depending upon what guise I happened to be in, but I seriously doubted that.
The very first time I wore the clothes I had the feeling it wouldn’t be the last. My dreams were about dressing as a girl and perhaps it had only been a small number of times that I had actually dressed this way, but each time I did, it was for longer and I became more convincing. Again I had to wonder what was happening to me.
This trip into girlhood was the scariest yet because, it took little for me to be convincing. I could stand before you in my underwear, look you in the eye and challenge you to tell me that what you saw wasn’t female.
Worse still, this time it had been my decision. I could have said no and I’m sure that mum would have understood. She may not have been happy, but she would have understood. I’m a boy for heaven’s sake and boys are not usually expected to dress in skirts or wear false boobs as a matter of course.
With my head still spinning, I laid there staring at the ceiling, the weight of the beasts pulling slightly sideways, which felt odd and I ran my hands up the sides of my chest to the beasts that joined almost seamlessly with me. My fingertips glided over the soft globes to the semi-erect nipples that even though they provided no sensation of their own, they did seem incredibly real.
I could feel my soft, smooth legs touching one another and I went almost into sensory overload, drawing my hands from my groin up as my legs rubbed together sending signals that didn’t leave much room for argument.
I liked the feeling.
I liked the soft globes that rose from my chest and because the false nipples provided no feedback, my head started to fill in the blanks, sending pseudo chills as I tweaked them with my thumb and finger, my mind drifting off, adding Jocelyn to the equation…
I fell asleep shortly after sliding into a world of dresses and skirts, makeup and nail polish, Jocelyn and me.
In the darkness I could hear her softly breathing as she drew her hand up towards the beasts, lightly kissing my neck and I turned my head towards her. Our lips met, gently kissing each others mouths before parting lips allowed tongues to enter, swirling and fencing with each other, the taste of the lipstick — was it mine or hers?
I ran my hand up from her tummy across her ribs before taking a nipple in my mouth and flicking my tongue across it, her breath coming in gasps as she held my head, running her fingers through my hair, moaning gently. She pushed me off and with a slight giggle, rolled me onto my back before she gave me a taste of my own medicine, taking the nipple in her mouth and sucking on it hungrily.
“I’ve waited SO long for this.” she panted, taking it back into her mouth before moving to the other and as she sucked, nibbled and flicked with her tongue, one hand started to trace across my stomach, down to my hairless crotch and further...
She froze, lifting her head.
“What the…?” she cried as her fingertips came into contact with something hard, almost vertical.
I woke up in tears.
Maybe sex wasn’t immediately on the cards, but sooner or later it would come into play (I hoped) and the truth would out. Then what would happen?
It was a dream, only a dream. Nevertheless, I knew right then and there that the scenario was just one possibility, one of many and none of them ended well. They all seemed to end in outrage, disappointment.
Getting back to sleep took ages and every time I moved, I could feel my smooth skin and the thought of the dream scenario got more and more real; more and more frightening and more and more likely.
I awoke the next morning and it took me a few seconds to establish my bearings. I’m not at my best first thing in the morning, that’s for sure — you may have noticed. Anyway, mum was giving me grief, wanting me to get up and speak on the phone. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and grabbing a dressing gown, stumbled half blind into the kitchen.
“Hello?”
“Good morning sleepy-head. Didn’t wake you up did I?” said a voice I recognised immediately.
“No, it’s alright. I had to get up to answer the phone anyway.”
“What? Oh you are silly!” she said, giggling. “Would you like to come with us to London today?”
“Who’s ‘us’?” I asked, wondering whether it was going to be another one of those ‘bunch of girl’ things and the memory of Sharon’s crowd kind of put me off that for some reason.
“Just mummy and I; oh and you of course. Please say you’ll come.”
“Hang on a minute.” I held my hand over the mouthpiece and called to mum. “Jocelyn wants to know if I’d like to go to London with them.”
“When are they going?”
“I got the impression that it would be pretty soon, but hang on, I’ll find out.” I put the phone to my ear again. “When are you going?”
“Well, we’ll come and get you in say, half an hour.”
“Hang on again.” I said and put my hand over the mouthpiece. “Half an hour.” I called.
“That’s not going to be long enough to get those breasts off and you dressed before she gets here.”
“Off?” I said a bit stunned. “I can’t take them off. Not now.”
“I’ve told you already. I don’t want you getting all mixed up in this charade. It’s not healthy and it’s not good.”
“You what? So it’s alright to do it when it suits you, but now it’s not. Is that it?”
“Don’t start Alex. I told you last night was an emergency.”
“Okay, fine. Well this is an emergency too.” I put the phone back to my ear. “I’ll be ready. Bye.”
Mum stormed into the kitchen just as I’d put the phone down.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to get ready to meet Jocelyn and her mum then it’s off to London for the day.”
“Oh no my lad. You’re not going out like that.”
“Excuse me, but the name’s Michelle. I don’t know where you get this ‘my lad’ stuff.”
Mums jaw flapped a few times, but nothing came out. I could see that steam, smoke or both were just about to start squirting out of her ears and her face was reddening as I strode past her towards the bedroom.
Turning the tables on her was quite satisfying and anyway, someone once said to me something about what was sauce for the goose and gander or something — whatever, but I thought this was so appropriate somehow. Mum had decided that because she wanted it, she could suspend the morality of deception in favour of getting the job done.
What she didn’t consider was the fact that it could work both ways. I needed that suspension of morality too, just for today. I slipped on one of my new bras, a black one and a pair of matching panties.
It all seemed perfectly logical in my eyes. Mum however didn’t see things with the same clarity that I did.
“I’m telling you, you’re not going out like that.” she said, trying to be assertive.
“Mum, will you relax? You’ll give yourself heart failure.” I said, touching her cheek and smiling. “I AM going and I’m going to try and put things right. This is the perfect time to do just that. Now; t-shirt or sweatshirt?”
“Are you wearing a skirt?”
“I thought the green wraparound.”
“T-shirt.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve told you, this is not right.”
“Neither was last night, but that didn’t stop either of us did it?” I said as I pulled on a plain white t-shirt and person-handled the wraparound skirt into place.
“In,” I asked then un-tucked the t-shirt and smoothed it over the waistband of the skirt. “Or out?”
“Out’s nice.” she said and followed me into her bedroom. “Look, I explained that last night was an emergency. It wasn’t my first choice, but well…”
“Yes, and I explained to you that this is an emergency too. “ I rubbed some foundation on my face, but then looked at the plethora of powders, creams, pencils and brushes. This was beyond me. “A little help here?”
“So what constitutes such an emergency?” she asked, smoothing on some bronze coloured eye shadow.
“I need to come clean mum.”
“You don’t need to be Michelle for that.” she said, tracing around my eyelashes with a kohl pencil.
“Yes I do. Who did Jocelyn ask to speak to?”
“Michelle.”
“Well there you go.” I said appraising mum’s makeup job and smiling at her. “Thanks mum.”
I stood up and mum immediately started to brush my hair.
“I don’t like this.” she said, slipping a slide into my hair, just above my left ear.
“I don’t either.” I said turning to face her. “But I HAVE to put her straight. She thinks I’m Michelle and I’m not.”
“I have to say, I’m finding that hard to believe. You’re getting in to this rather well, don’t you think.”
“I know. It’s scary to put it mildly, but I think I’m in love with her and I think she feels the same for me.”
“You’re growing up fast.”
“Well, I’m growing older, even if I’m not growing up.” I said raising my hand above my head and we laughed.
“I need a coat in case it gets cold” I said, but she had already gone to her wardrobe and got a leather jacket that looked like a slightly more ornate version of a biker jacket.
“I haven’t been able to wear this for years. Look after it won’t you, Michelle.”
I felt a lump in my throat at the sound of that name and threw my arms round mum, trying not to let the lump develop into tears.
It’s funny, it must be the clothes, but I already wanted to wear a different pair of shoes with the outfit and was wondering if that wasn’t what I would spend my first earnings on.
God help me.
Jocelyn and her mum arrived by taxi and it was Jocelyn who knocked on the door. Before we left, she told mum that we’d probably be back around eight and that I would be dropped off on their way from the station.
“Tell your mum thank you.” said mum.
“She thinks you’re a friend from school.” she whispered as we walked out to the cab. Mrs Tanner sat in the front and Jocelyn and I had the back to ourselves, not that we could do anything, but it was nice to sit close to her.
On the train, Mrs. Tanner’s laptop came out and Jocelyn took out a small leather box and opened it to produce a backgammon set.
“Do you play?” she asked.
“I can play, but I wouldn’t say I was particularly good.”
“That’s okay.” she said and we started playing.
It’s the last time (until the next time that is) that I’ll play her at anything. She opened one huge can of whoop-ass on my sorry butt as the American’s say. To say I lost would be an understatement.
We parted company with Jocelyn’s mum at Victoria station and were told to be back there at no later than six that evening. She kissed her daughter and even gave me a hug before going off to catch a tube.
“Why’s she working on a Sunday?”
“She seems to work all the time. You get used to it. Anyway, let’s go have a look round. Have you been here before?”
“No.” I said looking round at the hugeness of the station concourse.
“Funny. I thought you looked like someone who would have.”
“Yeah, well looks can be deceptive.” I said, feeling a cold shiver of inevitability running icy fingers down my spine.
We started with coffee at Costa’s on the main concourse, before leaving the station and trying to get all the sights in — I think in one breath. After the night before I would have been happy to just wander into St James’ Park or Hyde Park and flake out for a while, but no. She had a few more places to see. It was a really nice day, but as with all things they have to end and I was afraid that this might be the time that this one did.
We were sat on the Embankment with a couple of bags of chips.
“There’s something I have to tell you.” I said, hating myself as now she had made it really difficult to say anything that might upset her and I had a feeling this was going to be one of those things.
“Go on.” she said, her eyes twinkling. I think she was expecting anything other than what I was about to deliver.
“I’m not what you think.” I said, trying a gentle route in.
“What do you mean? Don’t you like me, er that way?”
“No, not at all, I mean yes. In fact I really like you. I think I’m actually falling in love with you. Well, I thought I’d done that the first time I saw you, but now, I can’t stop thinking about you and maybe it’s too late to say ‘falling’.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“You were right about me.”
“Right? What do you mean right, about what?”
“You called me Alex.”
“No.” she said and her face had that look of disbelief.
“I’m afraid so.”
“No. You can’t be. You’re nothing like him.”
“You’re too kind, but that said, it’s who I am.”
There was silence and I sat there looking at my feet.
“Please say something.” I said at last.
“But, you… and you… Why?” she said, her lower lip starting to quiver, which was starting me off too.
“It was something that got all out of control.” With each word, more tears were leaking from my eyes as I saw the girl I was in love with, looking at me with expressions that went from incredulity to something that was bordering on hatred.
“I never meant for any of this to happen. That first time when we were outside the shop and Becky gave you that mouthful, I felt like punching her out. I hated that she could be like that and when we met up again later, I couldn’t help feeling protectiveness because the girls I was with were bloody loonies, mentalists and regardless of who you may have been or your intentions, you didn’t deserve that.”
“But she said…” I knew she was about to say that Becky described me as ‘she’.
“I know. It was part of this control thing they had going. They just liked to be able to lead me around like some little pet or something.”
“So why didn’t you tell me after I gave you the note?”
“What and tell you at school?”
“I wouldn’t have told anyone.”
“I didn’t know that.” I said, dabbing my eyes with the back of my hand. “Sharon and the girls said that too, which is what got me into trouble in the first place.”
“So alright then.” she said, evidently not liking having been tarred with the same brush as my mentalist girl friends, but accepted that I didn’t know her either. “What about last night?”
“Mum’s idea. They needed another pair of hands and up popped Michelle.” I took a deep breath.
“When I asked mum if I could go to the party, I was worried that turning up as Alex wouldn’t get me past the door and mum was adamant that I wasn’t going in the guise of a girl. She didn’t like the idea of me dressing up that way anyway and told me it was a dangerous game to play.
“So I hoped that you would drop this wanting to see the girl me again, but you didn’t and to tell you that she wasn’t interested was a lie — I was; very. I didn’t want to hurt you and I didn’t want to come straight out and say it was me. I didn’t know whether you’d believe me and after what I went through with those other girls, I didn’t know that I wouldn’t get the same treatment from you.
“When I agreed to work, I had no idea who the customer was much less it was your birthday party, I only knew that I was getting mum and Ronnie out of a pretty nasty fix. Mum took me out on Friday evening to get some clothes and really went to town, saying that it wasn’t likely that she would get another chance to shop for a daughter.
“I told her that I wasn’t and she said that she knew that, but that I should just play along. She said that if I did any more work for her and Ronnie, I would need some alternate outfits. I couldn’t see that, but I couldn’t stop her. Not sure I wanted to either.
“Then you and your mum turned up and I nearly shit myself. I had no idea you would be coming. When I DID try and tell you, we got distracted and the moment was lost. I talked mum into letting me come with you today like this, but she didn’t agree with it and here I am, trying to explain that I never meant to hurt you, never meant to deceive you and that I’m so sorry. It’s not the best time to tell you I know, but it’s so important that you don’t think I took you for an idiot or something.”
“This is all a bit much to take in at once, Mich — er, Alex.”
“You ought to see it from this side.” I said, smiling a bleak smile. “And I prefer Michelle.” I nearly jumped out of my skin hearing myself utter those words. She was shocked too, her eyebrows almost hitting a low orbit — somewhere around Mars I think.
There was a long spell of silence when neither of us could look at the other. I didn’t want to push anything and suddenly as if a spell had been broken, I started to feel very self-conscious.
I knew that I had passed the point of no return, past that safe place where fiction ends and the truth appears. I was wholly at her mercy and she was at liberty to get as pissed-off with me as she saw fit. I HAD deceived her and I deserved whatever I got. I just hoped that this didn’t entail passing this all round school.
Jocelyn and I didn’t exchange a single word from that time onwards and I left the taxi saying thanks to her mum, adding to Jocelyn that I’d probably see her at school. She just looked away and I knew that if she had her way, I wouldn’t see her ever again and inside, the bubble burst.
I stomped past mum, who just blinked as I left scorch-marks on the carpet heading for my room at warp three, where I pulled the slide out of my hair along with a fair wodge of hair, tore off the t-shirt and started pulling at the falsies, tears running like rivers down my cheeks, leaving dark stains in their wake.
I couldn’t budge the beasts that were firmly attached to my chest and gave up, burying my head into the bedclothes, weeping like a baby.
A hand touched my shoulder as soothing sounds of “there, there” filtered through the veil of tears and I turned putting my arms around mum, holding her tight and fearing if I was to let go, everything would crumble.
“It’s not that bad.” she said. “It could have got a lot worse. I’m proud of you and I’m sorry that I misjudged you. You did the right thing you know.”
“It doesn’t help though mum.” I sniffed. “I hoped so much that she would just love me, regardless of the package.”
“Some people — most people probably, simply can’t. The package makes up so much of what attracts us in the first place.”
“But I WAS a nice package. What changed?”
“I think you know the answer to that one don’t you?”
School was a blur on the Monday and I found myself just walking away from all those people that asked about Jocelyn, hoping I think for some juicy gossip, some tasty morsels of whether we’d had sex, whether she was good at it or anything else they could possibly think of that had absolutely nothing to do with them or their disgusting, infantile, tiny, petty little minds.
I couldn't give them any of that, not that I wanted to, I didn’t have any anyway and even if I had….
One week, two weeks then three went past and I was starting to enjoy some semblance of normality. I had dated Jocelyn. As it turns out we only went out the once and had a couple of kisses, but it afforded me a bit of status within the boys now. I may have been one, if not THE smallest in the year, but I wasn’t at the bottom of the heap anymore.
The curious part was, I had nothing to add to their conversations, which centred round ogling the girls and deciding which one or ones they would ‘have’ — a technical term for those one would like to have sexual relations with — which in their eyes, was getting their rocks off and not a lot else. That seemed to be the sum total of what passed through that jelly of hormone inflamed grey matter between their ears, laughingly called brains.
I found myself trying to laugh along with or agree, but for the life of me I couldn’t. I found that instead of ogling, I was looking at how they carried themselves, how they walked or how they spoke to one another. Scarier still, was the fact that their clothes held a particular fascination for me and how, regardless of what they were wearing, some looked stylish and others didn’t.
I found myself pretending to find the boys puerile antics interesting, but couldn’t and I’d get home in the afternoon, usually when mum was out only to reach into my wardrobe to touch some of my new clothes, sometimes taking them out and holding them against me - the blouses and especially the pencil skirt. Mostly though I would take the box with the beasts inside and stare at them while letting my fingertips glide over the soft, smooth, but now cold surface, wishing they were real and not confined to a box.
After a month, I felt that I was pretty much over Jocelyn. I didn’t get any of the badgering at school anymore and I think that most of the people that had shown any interest at all were more interested in what was current and Jocelyn and I most certainly weren’t.
Needless to say, as well as leaving what Jocelyn and I were or weren’t doing out of their conversations, I found myself receding into the background. I still had a certain respect — albeit an enigmatic respect, but the whole school thing had been turned on its head as I felt that my place should have been with the girls and not with the boys.
This, you understand, was not something I made obvious, but I was almost leading two lives or I would have been had I the courage to let Michelle out again.
About a week before my sixteenth birthday, I was sitting in class listening to the boy badgering the girls as usual and found that I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t count myself in with all those moronic juveniles, those idiots. They generally had no idea what they were talking about and were just a bunch of hormone infested bags of muscle. A dangerous combination if ever there was one.
I went home that afternoon and out came the entire collection of femininity.
I sat on the bed with tears roiling down my cheeks as I stroked and felt each individual garment.
“What you up to…” said mum. I didn’t know she was in. I thought I was alone and there she was. I stood up so quickly, I nearly left the ground.
“I, er, um, I don’t know.” I said quietly.
“What’s happened?”
“Nothing. I just, well…” I sat down on the bed, wringing my hands and trying to formulate what I thought was happening, but wasn’t sure. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be Alex.” I said.
“Woo. That’s a biggy.” she said. “What’s brought all this about?”
“Don’t know.” I said in a tiny voice. “But I don’t think I can leave Michelle in the boxes anymore.”
“Ah. Hmm. That’s going to be tricky.” she said.
“Why?”
“Well what about school?”
“I don’t mean at school. I would never leave that place alive if I did. Even I’m not that stupid.”
“So what did you have in mind?”
“Maybe she could help with the business? At weekends, maybe, perhaps, please?” The tears were still running down my face and I know I must have looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care. I’d had plenty of time to think about it — all day everyday for the last month or more.
“We’ll see,” she said.
Well that made me feel better anyway. Just that teensy little window of possibility…
Mum was as good as her word and that very weekend, I joined mum and Ron and worked Michelle’s little arse off, enjoying every minute of it. I didn’t even mind the fact that I was working on a night that ordinarily, I would have expected to have some sort of a party, even if it was only me, mum and a muffin with a candle on the top!
I did settle a bit more from then on. Mum kind of got used to the fact that when I got home I would probably change into a skirt or something and I always kept my legs (and other areas) smooth. I even got better with the makeup. I say kind of because I think she wasn’t sure about having a time-share son and daughter. I suppose that would confuse anyone, but for me, it meant that I didn’t have to spend all day pretending, even though I don’t think I had any intentions whatsoever of making the change to Michelle permanent.
I still got a bit teary-eyed when I thought about Jocelyn. I didn’t know what she was up to and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care; that wouldn't be true at all. I would really hate to think of her unhappy, especially because of me. I would much prefer to think of her happy with me, but happy in any sense would do at a pinch.
Mum found out about the fact that I hadn’t really let Jocelyn go when she got home one afternoon and I was sitting there staring into space with the pencil skirt on my lap and a worn used ticket to London, in my hand as I stared into space.
“You still haven’t let her go have you?”
“I suppose not.” I said looking guilty.
“There will be someone else out there you know. I know you probably can’t see that, but believe me, it’s true.”
“I guess.” I said. She just stood there looking at me for a minute then ruffled my hair and wandered out of my room.
I was surprised that she didn’t make more of it, but there you go. Some things we think are important and really they’re not. Other times though, we think things are unimportant and really they’re not that either. It’s deciding which is which that’s the hard bit I guess and Jocelyn was very important to me — still.
At least I wasn’t constantly wandering around like a fart in a trance as I had been. I’d actually been improving at school although they were a bit concerned that I didn’t take more interest in sport. “So necessary for a chap of his age” they told mum. She didn’t tell them that I got plenty of sport from life and as far as exercise was concerned, well the catering business gave me plenty of that too!
The next time I worked, I was told that I needed to make a special effort with the appearance.
“These are special customers and they’re paying over the odds for us. It’s the least we can do.” she said. I ho-hummed, but didn’t really need much of an excuse to get dolled up, even if it was only for a night of clearing tables and getting the odd drink, or helping an old lady to the toilets or something. I have to say, it was a lot more varied than you’d think.
Well, maybe not.
Anyway, we arrived at the appropriate time and spent the next hour or so setting up.
My last job was to fill the ice buckets and when I returned, the place was already starting to fill.
“Here we go.” I said to myself and got ready for another manic evening. Mum surprised me by removing my apron and took me to one side.
“I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you.” she said and led me to a single table just off the main function area away from the hustle and bustle. “Sit.”
I sat down, wondering what was going on.
Moments later, I could here a familiar voice, whinging that it wasn’t fair that it was ‘expected’ that ‘all’ these silly functions be attended.
“When do I get time for…” she said, stopping mid-flight and staring open-mouthed at me.
“Um, hi.” I said and stood up.
“What are ‘you’ doing here?” she asked.
“I could ask you the same question.” We turned and looked at our respective parents.
“Well?” we chorused.
“You need to get this sorted. Either be together or be apart, but we can’t take any more of this being apart but wishing you were still together.” said mum.
I looked at Jocelyn and she looked at me, both of us turning a deep shade of crimson.
“There.” said Mrs. Tanner. “That’s better. I can’t say I agree with how you young people lead your lives, but I think Michelle is a very nice young… er… person and deserves another chance. He, er, she was honest and truthful and you should respect that. It’s a rare commodity and I should know. Now sort yourselves out.” And with that, the two mums nodded to one another and left us to it.
Both of us sat down, neither of us saying anything. I don’t think either of us could believe that our parents had done what they had, but there we were, face to face for the first time in months, well at least two and was it water under the bridge? Something like that anyway.
There was wine on the table and rather than allow them to come and take it away, I poured us a glass each and held up my glass to say cheers. Jocelyn wasn’t so forthcoming.
“Oh come on. I didn’t know anything about this. I was just told to dress smart and make an effort for some very important customers. Did I do alright? You look gorgeous, edible even.” I said, cringing at what had just come out of my mouth.
“Humph!” she said.
“For God’s sake, Jocelyn. Can’t you say that you’re even the least bit amused that our mums would be so conniving?”
“She did outdo herself this time.” she said grudgingly.
“So,” I said raising my glass. “To evil, conniving old mum’s who don’t know when to leave well enough alone and here’s also to hoping that they don’t stop.”
“I can drink to that!” she said and with some of the ice broken at the very least, we had somewhere to start.
Later, the last drops of wine were almost wrung from the bottle and I couldn’t hold it any longer. I just had to visit the ladies.
I left the stall and found that I wasn’t alone in there.
“Have you anything to tell me?” she asked archly.
“Not that I can think of. I don’t think I stopped loving you, but other than that, I can’t think of anything that can’t wait. You?”
“No.” she said
I nodded. “Good.”
There was something of a pregnant pause and I stood there feeling a bit like a spare whatsit, but I took my life into my hands and took her hand.
“I DO have something to say.” I said looking deep into her eyes. “I can’t see Michelle going away. Maybe she won’t be here full time, but that’s not something I want to rush into. To all intents and purposes I feel I am a girl and I want you to know that it wasn’t my fault I fell in love with you and it wasn’t my fault that I was born the wrong sex so…”
She pressed a finger to my lips.
“Just shut up.” she said and shoved me back into the stall where she kissed me so fiercely that I was pleased that all I had to do was to let my legs buckle and dropped heavily to the toilet seat. Jocelyn just straddled my legs and planted her lips on mine again.
I don’t know what’s going to happen, but now I think whatever does, I know that I have the best mum, mum-in-law (sort of) and girl that anyone could want, although I secretly think that Jocelyn is in love with Michelle and doesn’t really like Alex all that much — at all.
I’ll just have to make sure that he’s out when she visits.
By Nick B
By Nick B
(C) 2007
Kim Heasman won the trip of a lifetime in a competition and everything looked like it was going to be plain sailing, but things don't always go according to plan do they?
Thanks Kris for giving this the once over - as usual, another stirling job...
Chapter 1
I still don’t believe it happened.
You see I won this trip, well cruise - in a competition; one of those: “your name has automatically been entered into our grand holiday prize draw. You could be sailing off on a luxury cruise to New York...” I dutifully ignored this, like you do. I mean, no-one ever actually wins, do they?
Well now I know.
They do.
I did, though when you get to hear what happened with my luggage, I’m sure you’ll agree that ‘win’ might not have been the correct term.
There I was, looking forward to a luxury cruise on a luxury liner called the Paradise. As I walked across from the car park to check in I could see out onto the pier where she was berthed. She was huge, perhaps bigger than any hotel I’d seen, but then I live on the south coast of England and nothing’s particularly huge or grand there.
I was collared by a smarmy looking bloke in a cheap suit who stood with another bloke who was holding a camera and looking bored.
“Mr. Heasman?” he called. I went to him. “Judd Nelson.” He was a representative of the company that ran the competition and he stuck his hand out to shake mine - very limply.
“We just want a snap before you go — for advertising you understand. It's all explained in the conditions.”
“Oh. Ok, no problem.”
“Just one thing.” he said. “I think it would be much better to see you in more ‘holiday’ oriented clothing.” I didn’t think that was a problem either, so I took my suitcase to the lavatories, changed into Bermuda shorts, beach shoes, a gaudy Hawaiian shirt and went back for the snapshot.
They were calling to board by the time they’d finished and I didn’t know which way to turn.
“It’s that way.” said Judd.
“What about my bags?” I asked, flustered.
“We’ll sort those out.” he assured me. “Now go on, go have fun.”
I strolled up the gangplank and onto the deck, shaking hands with one of the officers as he said “Welcome to the Paradise. I hope you enjoy your trip.”
Sounded good and the butterflies in my stomach told me that even though I had always viewed these cruises as “not my scene”, I was definitely excited by the prospect of three weeks sailing across the Atlantic - all inclusive. Well mostly.
I went to one of the many bars and enjoyed a few drinks after talking to a gentleman and his wife who, by their own admission, were “old hands” at this cruising. It apparently always took a while for the cases to be sorted and delivered to the cabins so I stayed with them, enjoyed their hospitality, bought some drinks and then went off to find my cabin.
I followed directions that seemed to take me further and further down into the bowels of the ship and when I finally found the door to my cabin, I expected to see the prop shaft twirling away through the middle of it. There were no windows that far down, but I figured, how much time would I be spending there anyway? However, there were no suitcases, no sports bag — no luggage at all.
All that I possessed was what I was stood up in and the small bag I carried over my shoulder that held my camera, documents and money. With just one pair of Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of sandals, how was I expected to last the trip?
Panic!
If being in the murky depths of the ships hull wasn’t bad enough, I now found I had no clothing either. I asked for the crew’s help in locating my lost baggage, but all they could do was tell me to wait. It had probably been delivered to the wrong cabin.
Still it wasn’t so bad I thought. I have three weeks of lounging around on deck, playing quoits or anything else they have to offer — provided I could afford it and well, aside from the location of the cabin I was still excited.
That was until I heard the engines start. I thought the baggage was a bad start, but the throbbing that was thundering through this tiny little cabin was almost too much (to even hear yourself think). I wondered just how I was going to sleep. It was like sitting inside a giant vibrator and I don’t mean one of those slender things that ladies use (or so I’m told), I mean the sort that gets the air out of concrete. I stood it for about ten minutes before I just had to get out of there and went up on deck, just in time to see Southampton slowly disappearing.
Momentarily, I forgot all about the lost luggage, the orthopaedic vibrating cabin and got into feeling the wind in my hair, the feeling of salt spray on my face and looked forward to the cruise.
Later and feeling slightly cold, I went to see if anything had transpired about finding my stuff. They had no knowledge of my baggage and this made me angry. The officer to whom I was speaking took it all rather well I thought.
“Look, leave it with me, Mr. Heasman.” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
It sounded promising, though I suspected that I was shouting at the wrong person and he just wanted to get me out of his hair. I went back to my cabin and sat on the bed, the sound of the throbbing engine making more noise than I could cope with and I ended up in a bar, sipping beer well into the early hours.
I staggered from there and the thought of the noise in my cabin just turned me right off. I had to find somewhere else to sleep that wasn’t freezing and to that end, I found a quiet corner of a lounge and fell asleep there.
I was woken at heaven alone knows what time. I do know I woke up feeling stiff, uncomfortable and like I hadn’t slept a wink all night. I smiled a bit sheepishly at the porter who was trying to rearrange everything for the morning’s onslaught and went out on deck.
It was cold, overcast and I wondered what I was going to do with the rest of the day. That compounded with the thought of having nothing clean or more appropriate, wasn’t the most auspicious of starts to another day on Paradise.
“Still,” I thought, trying to take a positive tack. “One thing at a time.”
Breakfast and dinner were part of the deal and I went to see what time breakfast/ s would be served, especially since I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
I looked rumpled and attracted a fair number of stares as I sat, savouring the fried eggs, bacon and sausage. I had four pieces of toast and told them to keep the tea coming. The result was one happy camper, or cruiser in this case.
The orange juice in the lap was something I hadn’t bargained for.
I jumped up and saw a child of about six just about ready to bawl, holding an empty glass, followed swiftly by his or her (it’s difficult to tell) mother.
“I’m so sorry.” she said, swiping up a napkin from the table and reaching out to dab the offending liquid from my shorts. I darted backwards out of her way, just before her napkin brandishing hand made contact with my nether regions, slipped and wound up sitting in four pancakes covered in liberal quantities of maple syrup.
The ensuing madness gave rise to some pretty heated exchanges between the mother, her now screaming child and the pancake owner's mother too. I got out just as things were starting to turn nasty, the pancakes still dropping from my sticky posterior as I entered my cabin.
This really wasn’t turning out as planned at all.
I looked down at my yellow-stained shorts and as it turned out, stained shirt too. I had to get out of these things and immediately went to the basin to try and rinse them out.
With the dripping items hanging from the shower rail, I sat on the bed and waited for them to dry, the thrumming of the engine rattling my brain.
Ten minutes later and it was quite obvious that waiting until things were dry was going to drive me insane, so I looked around the cabin for something to do. I fiddled with my camera for a while, but about forty-five seconds later, I tossed it onto the bed and looked around for something else.
I spotted a leaflet and picked that up. Inside, it gave all the on-board phone numbers. My eyes rested on “Radio Paradise” and a thought came to me.
I picked up the phone and it was answered by a bright sounding woman, well girl really I think and I asked her to put a message out for anyone with any spare clothes to drop them at my cabin. I described myself and my predicament, told her my name, my height — five eight, my weight 120 pounds, shoe size - seven and thanked her. I didn’t know whether it would have any effect whatsoever, sighed deeply and went to lie down on the bed.
I was pretty knackered after last night’s escapade and what amounted to about two hours fitful sleep and I dozed off despite the constant thrumming of the engine.
I awoke several hours later feeling better than I had and wondered what effect the call to Radio Paradise had had. I went to the door and opened it.
Outside were little piles of clothes and my heart jumped.
“At last!” I exclaimed, grabbing the clothes before anyone saw me, which was silly since I didn’t think anyone went that far down into the ship unless they’d been bad.
I dumped the clothes onto the bed and started to sift through them. There was a lot more there than I thought and as I started going through them, my smile turned to a frown.
Every item was for a girl.
I suppose you could call the t-shirts unisex, but most of those were in pastel colours and the majority had some sort of slogan on them that sort of pointed to there being a girl on the inside.
There were shorts, even shorter shorts and skirts; panties — new — I hasten to add and even shoes — some were heels, some flats and even a pair of Nike trainers. In a bag that accompanied all this were new pairs of panties in a packet, tights and stockings and a couple of bikinis. My heart couldn’t take this. With the thought of my own missing stuff was the thought that I was banished to the cabin, since there was no way I was going out in this stuff.
I sat back down on the bed, my head in my hands and was nearly in tears. I considered that although this wasn’t the best of times to be having, as soon as my own stuff was dry, I could then go back out, but for the moment, here I was on what was supposed to be a luxury cruise and wasn’t even able to go outside.
There was a knock at the door.
“I’m looking for Kim.” said the brunette outside, holding another two bags, presumably with more clothes in.
“I am he.” I said, trying to keep my naked body from her view.
“He? Well where’s the girl who needed the clothes?”
“Can you hang on just a moment please?” I asked, closed the door and went and grabbed the towel from next to the shower. It wasn’t that big, but it covered most of what I didn’t want showing. I invited the woman in.
I guess she must have been in her early thirties at a push and she looked around the cabin disdainfully. I stood holding the towel around me, clasped together at the back.
“I think there’s been a big misunderstanding.” I said.
“Oh? How so?” she asked.
“Well, I am the one who wanted the clothes. My name’s Kim Heasman and I’m here because I won the trip in a competition.” I said and went on to explain what had happened.
“You really are in the shit aren’t you?” she asked.
“Gee thanks.”
“Well you are, aren’t you?” she said. “But I think I can help.”
“No way!!” I almost yelled. I wasn’t worried about being heard yelling. The noise from the engines was so loud that I figured that anyone who wasn’t deaf before they entered one of these lower cabins would be by the time they left it.
“Come on, it’ll be fine.” she said. I was resolute. The answer was “no, not on your life”.
“Look, the first point is that you’re not in a position not to. You can’t stay in here for the entire cruise, you’ll go deaf and secondly, what have you got to lose?”
“My self respect?” I asked. She shook her head.
“I think that went in the breakfast room this morning.” She said, observing my still dripping clothes.
“But I’m not a girl.”
“No-one needs to know that.”
“It’s not going to work.” I said, though the conviction was leaking away faster than I could plug the gaps.
“It’s going to work fine. Now put these on, grab the rest of the stuff and come with me.”
I don’t think I can adequately describe what a fool I felt going from my cabin to hers and no, I didn’t know her name yet either.
I had on a yellow t-shirt with some slogan or another that was only marginally less embarrassing than “My Little Pony” in multicoloured glitter, some pale blue shorts with a pair of the panties underneath and my new Nike’s. I couldn’t look at anyone, not that there was much to see of me behind all the clothing I was carrying, but I was so relieved when we finally made it to her cabin.
That was an understatement too — cabin. It made the thing I came out of feel like a bloody broom cupboard. Hers had rooms in it.
It had windows too.
“Right, there’s no time to waste, get those off and go in the bathroom.”
“Er, just a minute. What’s your name?”
“Didn’t I say? It’s Donna. Donna Elliot. Now scoot!”
I went into her bathroom, itself bigger than my cabin and through the door, she shouted “Use the Nair.” and then it went quiet.
“Nair?” I said to myself. “What the hell’s Nair?”
A bottle on a shelf answered that one.
“Don’t forget to do under your arms and make sure you get right up to the crotch, in fact, just smear it on liberally all over.” she shouted through the door again. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Hair remover?” I thought as I looked at the innocent looking bottle in my hand. “What on earth?”
Suddenly, Donna’s plan seemed far too real, far too much for someone like me. I didn’t want all this, I just wanted to enjoy the cruise and having got this far, I didn’t see why I should go to such great lengths to see it through to wherever it ended.
I sat down on the toilet and worried; the Nair bottle still in my hands and not a trace of it on me. I had had nothing but weird since I started this and far more than I thought right for one person.
“You alright in there?”
“I can’t do this. I’m really sorry, you’ve all put yourselves out, but I can’t do this.”
“Course you can. Look I’ve brought help. If these people can’t put you right then no-one can.” she said. There was the muffled sound of assent from behind the door. “Look, I’ll help if it’ll make it easier.”
“Er, no thanks. I think I can do it.”
“Attaboy!”
Twenty minutes and a shower later, I emerged completely devoid of what little bodily hair I had. It felt weird. I had been waiting so long for that hair to grow, because as slight as I was, I thought it made me more manly, now all of that had gone; washed down the drain with the rest of that foul stuff.
Wrapping a towel around me, I stepped out of the bathroom and it was like one of those old westerns where someone walks into the saloon and everything stops. I stepped into the main room and everyone stopped and stared at me as I changed colour to something that neared purple.
“There we are. Didn’t hurt, did it?”
“Well it stung a bit, but no, I suppose not.” I said in a small voice.
“She’s even more perfect than you let on.” said one of the assembled ladies.
“Who you calling she?” I asked, my hackles rising. Donna laid a hand on my shoulder and shook her head at the woman, whose name was Margaret and she quietened down almost immediately.
“So who’s going first?” asked Donna, retaking command of the situation as I cowered just behind her.
I think the rest of the afternoon went past and I never saw anything other than the five ladies I was ensconced with. They started on my head and worked their way down to the tips of my toes and by the time they had finished, barring the makeup, which I wasn’t looking forward to, I had false boobs, smooth skin (my fault), bright red nails on my hands and feet, a new hairdo — which they wouldn’t let me see until I was dressed and made up and a new feeling of dread.
Half an hour later, I was dressed and made up. The lipstick tasted strange, but not unpleasant, just strange, but the strangest thing of all was my perception of myself and how it took a matter of seconds before I recognised that the girl in the mirror wasn’t a girl at all, but me.
“What do you think?” asked Donna as the other four ladies were busy congratulating one another.
“I-I don’t know w-w-what to say.” I replied, my voice once again very small and timid. “Is that really me?”
“Damned right honey!” said Margaret to hoots of laughter from the others. I tried to smile, but succeeded only in turning red again. I was getting very good at that.
To be continued...
Chapter 2
By Nick B
(C) 2007
The one where Kimmy takes a dive…
Nice one for the work Kris.
The shock was a bit much. Had I been an actual girl, I would have been glad to have been sitting down or I would have fainted. As it was, I wasn’t too far from that anyway.
“We’d better get going if we’re going to be ready in time.” said Margaret and herded the other three ladies who were babbling about dances, men and a bunch of things I didn’t want to think about, towards the door. “See you there Donna.”
I could see my reflection in the mirror and it made me feel strange. It wasn’t that I didn’t look good, I did, but I didn’t want to be a girl. I had enough trouble getting people to believe I was a boy most of the time and this just set that back by a few millennia, at the very least.
The young man who first set foot on this tub not two days previously, was gone and the reflected image was one of a young lady with one of those short feathered hairdo’s with blonde highlights just on the tips — the sort of thing Kim Vo from the Extreme Makeover team would do; short but by no means masculine.
She wore a black skirt that ended just above the knee with a deep red blouse in a kind of satiny material. Black shoes with a modest, yet still deadly, heel finished the ensemble. The makeup was definitely evening style; dark around the eyes with a red lipstick that more or less matched the nail polish and the blouse. Of course, under the blouse was a bra filled with these squishy blobs that bounced and jigged sort of authentically and I think, made the look complete.
The overall effect was a total transformation.
So I didn’t have the hips and curves that one would normally associate with the fairer sex, but it didn’t detract one iota from the femininity that exuded from the person that stared back at me.
It was I’m sad to say, frightening.
It didn’t look wrong really and I know there are a lot of TG and TV men out there who would have killed to have had a body and face like mine, but suddenly for me this was like walking into a waking nightmare, the light switches didn't work and I couldn't find my blanket.
“I told you you’d look good.” said Donna, coming and sitting beside me.
“I know, but I don’t know if I can go through with this, I mean, it’s... it’s…”
“A shock? You’ll get over it, honey. We don’t even have to change your name; you’re perfectly fine as you are.”
“Fine? That’s easy for you to say, you’ve probably never been anything other than a girl. For me this is…” I couldn’t finish my sentence because the reflection kept catching my eye and although it was me talking — I could hear that perfectly well, it wasn’t me at the same time. I could see the girl in the mirror talking and for the life of me I couldn’t see that young man I was trying so hard to be. Not only that, but to add insult to injury, the voice seemed to fit, sound more appropriate from ‘her’ than from me.
“I’m sorry.” I said and got up. I grabbed my little bag and stumbled in the shoes to the door yanking it open. The door flew back and I went through, leaving the five women slack-jawed and motionless, staring at the empty space that used to be me.
I didn’t stop running — well running and stumbling until I was pulling on the handle to my own cabin. The low rumble of the engines that shook the very walls was almost a Godsend as I slammed the door behind me and flopped back, leaning against it, breathing hard.
The oval mirror above my wash-hand basin caught most of me and I stared at myself, finding it very difficult to believe what I was seeing. My hair was definitely not masculine and even without the application of makeup I would have been hard-pressed to get away with calling myself a guy, even in men’s clothes. The plucked and shaped eyebrows gave a very definite arch and the pouting expression the lipstick gave took the last traces of ‘me’ away.
God what had just happened? It was making me wonder just who it was that was going to end up enjoying this trip.
I sat on the bed, the noise of the engines and the constant throbbing through the bed made thinking near impossible. I was in something close to a state of panic and I went back to the mirror. I looked and looked to try and see Kim Heasman, but it was not to be. I felt like Sam Beckett, looking in the mirror after one of his Quantum Leaps from one person’s body to another, not quite knowing what to think or now, believe.
The knock on the door brought me back into the present.
I pulled myself together, shrugged off as much of the fear and panic I was feeling as I could and pulled the door open just enough to see who was there.
“Hi.” I said.
It was the ships officer I had spoken to the day before and he looked at me ‘in that way’ - as if he knew what I was doing there in Kim Heasman’s cabin, craning his neck as if to try and catch a glimpse of ‘him’ around the door.
“Is Mr. Heasman there?” he asked, looking me up and down suggestively.
“I’m afraid he’s indisposed at the moment.” I replied. There was no way I was telling him he was looking at him!
“Well, could you give him a message please?” he asked.
“Sure, fire away.”
“His luggage still hasn’t been located. I suggest he comes to see me about it.” he said, giving me details about where to find him etcetera.
“I’ll let him know you called.” I said inwardly vomiting at the salacious way he looked at me.
The door clicked shut and I breathed out explosively. “Jeez, that was weird!” I exclaimed, but I had got away with it. The man who had already spoken to me not twenty-four hours before didn’t recognise me or even give any outward signs that he thought I was anything other than a visitor to Kim’s cabin.
Well at least the ‘he’ Kim was getting a positive reputation!
Meanwhile, I had pulled off a bit of a coup as far as passing was concerned. I don’t know why I was worried, I mean visually, I didn’t have a face like a slapped arse and as I was currently dressed, who would ever suspect?
I sat back on the bed, the reflection of my face visible in the mirror and I couldn’t help being just slightly curious. I mean, I had always had a masculine self image, but that didn’t stop people from making the mistake of thinking that because I was slightly under the average height and build for a bloke, I was actually female. Well there was probably more to it than that, but...
There was another knock on the door.
I couldn’t believe it. I knew no-one on this ship save those women and here I was getting more visitors than I did at home where I knew loads of people.
I opened the door and wasn’t entirely surprised to see Donna standing there.
“Oh, hi Donna.” I said and held the door open for her to enter.
“That was a pretty wild dash back there.”
“Yeah well that was a pretty wild shock too.”
“So what made you come back here?”
“I don’t know. Safety?”
“But you left all your stuff in my cabin.”
I shrugged and looked a little sheepish, but the fact was that not all my stuff was in her cabin, some of it was still hanging from the shower. It was still wet, but it was there. Anyway, I didn’t see that the stuff that was outside my cabin door was mine. Not really.
We argued about it for ages and whatever justification for me not to accept the kindnesses of the passengers, she found ways to contradict. Not all of them I thought were valid either, but as the ‘discussion’ went on, I felt myself losing out to her reasoning until in the end, I felt I had no choice but to accept my current situation and go with the flow.
Alright, call me weak, but after however long it was that we argued — sorry, DISCUSSED the point, the engines were thrumming, her voice was grating and although I know it’s bad, but I gave in. “What the heck?” I thought, I’ve passed once, I can do it again. How hard can it be?
We stepped out of my cabin and I left my shorts and shirt on the shower, but grabbed my little bag and we set off down the corridor. I could have sworn I saw someone dart into an adjoining corridor, but I figured it was just someone going from ‘A’ to ‘B’. I took no notice anyway, feeling that at a time like this, it was bound to be paranoia.
My mind was well and truly on the matter in hand anyway and all the way to Donna’s cabin I was wondering why she was taking so much trouble over me. I hardly knew her after all and she knew me no better, so what was this fascination with getting me into girl’s clothes and makeup?
The boat was busy, there was entertainment and all sorts going off all over the ship what with the restaurants, the ballroom, the night club and other sundry things, but no-one gave me a second look. It helped to bolster my confidence, though I still felt that I stood out like a sore thumb.
Back at Donna’s cabin, I thought everything was going to calm down, but it didn’t. The first thing I faced was the blame that thanks to me we were likely to be late and that she had to go and get ready.
She didn’t need to do what she did, did she and what did she mean by ‘we’?
“Are you ready?” she asked when she came back out of her bedroom, some half an hour later.
“Ready?” I asked. “Ready for what?”
“The dinner/dance silly.” she said.
“You can’t be serious.” I said, the full meaning of the situation suddenly crashing down on me.
“Of course. It’ll be fun and I’ll bet you’re going to be the belle of the ball.”
“Oh, ding-dong.” I said resignedly. She looked back at me with a dangerously arched eyebrow.
“You’re not getting cold feet are you?”
“Cold feet? My feet are the least of my problems. Right now, it would be easier to find the warm bits. You might have said something, let me get used to the idea.”
“I thought I had. Sorry.” she said with that giddiness I knew was false.
“Yeah, well anyway. I don’t know that I can do that.”
“Of course you can. Look, you walked all the way here through all those people and not one took a blind bit of notice of you and what about that crew member that you spoke to earlier?”
She was right of course, but that didn’t mean I wanted to go. I made some lame excuse of not fitting, not feeling as if I was going to pass. Well that just made her angry.
“Look at you. Come on - look!” I turned once again to the mirror and as before, the face of an attractive young woman was staring back at me; that haunted expression deepening as ‘she’ realised that this was permanent — well possibly permanent for the remainder of the cruise.
“Can you honestly see anything wrong with what you’re looking at?” asked Donna, her voice adopting a tone that had with it, more than a hint of steel.
This assertiveness from Donna took me by surprise. She was evidently growing tired of my indecisiveness, but after all, I wasn’t used to this new guise or what it meant, either to me or anyone else.
I was as nervous as hell. I had been given little time to get used to the idea of being this new girl, but I was now being dragged into what I saw as the lion’s den.
Apparently, it was an informal affair and that I suppose was the one thing in its favour.
I was escorted in by the five ladies and kept very quiet. I thought that the less attention I drew, the more likely it would be that I would get out of this alive and with my sanity intact, though the way things were already going that was looking less and less likely.
There was a fair mix of old and young there, which pretty much described our own table and as the evening progressed so did the consumption of wine — my glass never seemed to empty. It must have had a good effect because I felt less self conscious of my appearance, although despite getting decidedly mellow, it never really wholly went away.
My self-consciousness was brought right up front when a guy who was obviously a lot younger than me came and asked me to dance, much to the amusement of the ladies — or those left who weren’t already dancing. I didn’t have the heart to refuse and the remaining ladies would have made me very uncomfortable if I had.
I allowed the youngster — Edward, to dance with me for one number and had the Devil’s own job keeping his hands off my arse. I kept pulling them up to my waist and then as if by magic, they’d be back to cupping and squeezing my cheeks before I knew it. I was happy to bow out gracefully at the end of that number and went to sit back down.
Truthfully, it wasn’t that bad. I suppose that I was beginning to get into character. ‘Kimmy’, as Donna so eloquently put it, was a girl and ‘Kim’ was a boy who seemed to have got left behind on the docks. So it was with an odd kind of detachment that I danced with Edward, although I fervently hoped I wouldn’t need to again.
No such luck. I was dancing pretty much all night and the men ranged from an older bloke of about fifty or more who I think, was trying to piss his wife off and was doing a really good job, to guys not much older than me.
“So how did you find it?” asked Margaret as the band disappeared off.
“Okay, I suppose. I don’t like dancing at the best of times and dancing with men just isn’t my cup of tea, but it’s definitely better than spending the night waiting for my shorts to dry in that noisy cabin.”
“You should hear the noise in that. I can’t believe they put him in there.” said Donna.
We walked back towards Donna’s cabin, the ladies saying good night and peeling off as they reached turn-offs for their own cabins and I continued with Donna, chatting about nothing really, it was just a nice way to round off the evening.
Outside her cabin, I said my goodbyes and was just about to head back down into the vast cavern of the ships interior when Donna asked where I thought I was going.
“Back to my cabin.” I said.
“Don’t be so silly. You can’t go back there.”
“But it’s my cabin, where would you suggest I went? I’m certainly not going back to that lounge; I don’t think I slept at all in there.”
“Of course not. You’re staying here with me.”
She wouldn’t take no for an answer and I was led — almost dragged bodily actually, into the rich grandeur of her suite, my head playing games with images of ‘spending the night’ with Donna. I needn’t have worried. That wasn’t on her mind at all.
I was shown to a spare cabin that alright, didn’t have windows, but it didn’t throb either and after she showed me the various chemicals and stuff I needed to take the makeup off my face with in the bathroom, she told me she’d wait up and we’d have a nightcap together.
I awoke the next morning to rediscover a hairless body, complete with a full-on chubby and that constant feeling of softness as my legs touched and rubbed together, which was further enhanced by the smooth feeling around that certain other part of my body. This of course was made all the more frustrating when I remembered where I was and any eroticism that was floating (or charging full-bore in my case) was dispelled fairly quickly when I realised that I was going to have to get up and do yesterday all over again.
Oh joy.
Donna knocked on my door shortly after realisation dawned.
“Ready for breakfast Kimmy?” she called.
I didn’t like the name Kimmy. It was bad enough that there were two Kim’s in my class at school — one was me and the other was a plain girl who was labelled as a bit of a swot. Now I was actually answering to that feminised version of my name and it grated.
“Be with you in a moment.” I called back, dragging myself out of bed and trying to find something that didn’t look too girly to put on, though trying to find a skirt or panties that “aren’t too girly” is like trying to find a bacon sandwich that isn’t too porky. Fortunately, I remembered that I had shorts and stepped into a pair of those instead.
I wondered whether I could get away without wearing the bra, but upon looking at the shorts I had, not one pair was a male style. Bang went my idea of being just a boy in shorts, no boy on earth would entertain wearing these. Oh well, back to plan ‘A’.
I struggled with the bra, until I sussed that putting it on backwards, doing it up at the front and then spinning it round, was far easier than doing it the other way and despite the heating in the cabins, the ‘chicken fillets’ - blobs of silicone that were my false breasts were still a cold shock when inserted into the cups.
I finished off with the baggiest t-shirt I could find and looked in the mirror. No makeup, shorts and a baggy t-shirt seemed to make me pretty non-descript and moments later I emerged.
“There she is!” said Donna gleefully.
I didn’t like that either. Much as I felt glad that she had come to my rescue, all this girly stuff was hard to get to grips with.
“Here I am.” I replied in a kind of flat tone.
“What’s wrong Kimmy?”
“Nothing! Everything. I don’t know. I just don’t think I’m cut out to be this girl is all.”
“Why? You were brilliant last night. I don’t think there was a man there that didn’t dance with you.”
“Don’t remind me. I don’t think I’m cut out for this because I’m not a girl. I don’t find men attractive and all the time I’m wandering round like this, I feel like I’m being sized up.”
“But that’s half the fun!”
“It maybe fun for you, but not for me. I just feel that I’ll push the wrong or right buttons and it’s curtains for Kimmy. Last night, it was all I could do to stop myself smacking some of those chauvinistic bastards in the teeth.” I shuddered inwardly as Donna had even got me using Kimmy now too.
“Honey; you can always turn them away.”
“I tried that. It didn’t work very well did it?”
“Look, let’s go get some coffee and croissants. I always think better after those, don’t you?”
The idea of coffee and croissants sounded good and I approached the dining room where breakfast was served with some trepidation. After the morning before, I considered it off limits, but then Kim would. Kimmy on the other hand, had never been in there and that was definitely a plus.
True enough, no-one associated the skinny young lady with Donna as the same person who had exited with half a pint of OJ down his front and four maple pancakes on his rear. Breakfast today went without such hitches.
On the way out, I almost bumped into a girl of about my own age. She took my breath away. Our eyes met and I swear that something passed unspoken between us. I exited the breakfast room backwards, unable to take my eyes off the beauty that walked in. She turned and gave me an odd sort of look just before it happened.
I didn’t know anything was there, not until my heel made contact with it. I stumbled backwards and caught the small of my back on the railing. I thought that was it, but suddenly my whole world was turning upside-down — literally!
I shrieked — probably the most girly sound I had made since the transformation. I went over the railing and watched sky and clouds pass by before seeing a swimming pool coming towards me at breakneck speed then — SPLASH!
I surfaced to see a large crowd of people clambering to see what had happened, one of whom was Donna. I swam to the edge and hauled my sorry butt out of the water before balling my fists and stomping a soggy foot several times on the decking and shouting “Oooooh!”, before I realised that the people above and around me were laughing at this bedraggled mess that dripped and muttered as she left the scene in great haste.
I was so pleased when the beauty that had passed me wasn’t among them.
I was still frowning long after Donna had let me into the cabin. The frown stayed until I had showered, changed into dry clothes and she had stopped laughing.
“Oh come on Kimmy, it was funny. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that before, well not in the morning anyway. A few have gone in later in the day after being in the bar, but not straight after breakfast.”
“It’s NOT funny.” I said and tried to sound authoritative, but failed miserably and wound up laughing just as hard as Donna.
“You really know how to make an exit and after that scream, I don’t think anyone’s in any doubt about your femininity; certainly not after that foot stomping when you got out.”
Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better.
She suggested then that I should go out and enjoy myself. Before I could argue, I was hustled out of the cabin and into the daylight wondering why I couldn’t just stay inside where people couldn’t see me. This was especially true since I was back into a skirt and a t-shirt that accentuated my ‘breasts’ rather than hiding them as the breakfast ensemble had.
I wasn’t supposed to be feminine; I was a guy and could prove it.
Okay, so I wasn’t Vin Diesel, but I still had something between my legs that set me on one specific side of the gender divide. It was like a light bulb going on over my head. I was right, I was male and dressing me up as a female wasn’t going to change that.
Yes, I had heard of the poor guys and girls who realise that what’s on the outside doesn’t match what was on the inside, or had been born with both, but I wasn’t either of those things. I was male and intended to stay that way.
The first thing on my mind was to find out how much it would cost to change me back. Okay, the hair was something I could live with — sort of, but the clothes weren’t me and neither was being this girl they all seemed to think I was.
Looking in the various shops or ‘outfitters’ as they prefer, I was treated to a view of what shopping in Harrods must be like and I realised very quickly indeed that providing myself with an alternative wardrobe would not only be costly, but even to replace to a minimum would leave me virtually penniless for the rest of the trip.
This was like a kick in the soft bits — a challenge to my masculinity. I was sure in my own mind that I wasn’t a woman, but a man. I was masculine and liked all things masculine. The only way I liked feminine was when it was on a female. I liked the way that lingerie looked on someone with curves and all those interesting lumps and bumps.
I wasn’t going to be able to just slope off to the shops, buy myself a new set of duds and amble out as Kim Heasman — man about town. I would have been lucky to have wandered out with a pair of trousers or shorts, a couple of pairs of underwear, two or three t-shirts and no more money.
After realising I wasn’t going to be able to do it my way, I didn’t feel like I had any choice in the matter. I had lost out to an absurd situation that any way I looked at it, had got me solidly by the short and curlies. I was in it up to my ears and the only way out seemed to entail playing along with whatever was going on.
Not what I wanted to hear, especially from me.
I needed to go sit somewhere quiet and think. As much as I disliked being in this guise, I didn’t look bad, I mean I actually looked quite natural, so at least I had that on my side, although that was sure to haunt me after this was all over.
I wandered round for some time and with few areas on a ship like this that can be called quiet it took ages to find anywhere where I could just go sit and be alone. I didn’t want to be on my own, but under the circumstances, I really needed to gather my thoughts and try and figure this out.
Eventually on one of the mid levels, I found an area that was largely unoccupied. I sat down on one of the deck chairs and gazed out over the sea. It wasn’t warm, but it was out of the way and that was reassuring.
I’d been there for about an hour when a voice said “Hello.” I looked up and saw the girl from the breakfast room.
I was a bit flustered to begin with because I saw something in her that had I been plain Kim, I would have liked to have seen develop. Right now, I didn’t know who I was, what I was or why I was even there. I was just biding my time until either it was time to go home or Donna grew weary of this play-acting and I could get back to some semblance of normality — whichever happened sooner.
“Hi. You were at breakfast this morning weren’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah. Have you any idea what all that ruckus was about just after you left?”
I most certainly did, but whether I should tell her was something I wasn’t sure of. Oh well, in for a penny as they say.
“I fell in the pool.” I said and could feel that crimson tide running up my cheeks.
“What?”
“I fell in the pool.” I said again, blushing even more. “Straight over the railings and ‘splosh!’”
“No!” she said with ever widening eyes. “Not the one two decks down?”
“The very same.”
“That must be about twenty feet or more.” she said. “Are you alright?”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” I said. “But physically I’m okay. No broken bones, just a severely bruised ego.”
“Well that’s alright then.”
“Depends which way you look at it.” I said philosophically. “I’m not so sure, but then I’m not so sure of anything right now.”
“May I sit down, I’ve been all over this ship over the last few hours and my feet are killing me.”
“Be my guest. I may not be the best company though.”
“You seem alright to me.” she said giving me a smile that if certain things hadn’t been firmly tucked into my panties, may well have given ‘rise’ to other things and those were what right now I was trying hard to ignore.
“Thanks.” I said.
She introduced herself to me as Lucy and I introduced myself as Kim. I didn’t even think about how I looked, but thankfully it didn’t matter. Just as well my name wasn’t Herbert or something.
We chatted about all sorts of things for what must have been ages. We watched the sun travel across the sky and start to set on the horizon before she made her excuses to leave.
“It’s been really nice talking to you.” she said. “I’m here with older relatives and I know it’s really good of them to have me along, but they’re a little difficult to get on with when it comes to understanding people of my age.”
“I know. They can’t understand the music for a start.” I joked. “In my day, you could understand the words.” I said, making a fair impersonation of an old voice and for the first time since I started this cruise, I was laughing and feeling comfortable.
“Oh well… best get back.” she said and off she went.
I watched Lucy walk away along the deck, wondering whether I should have offered to walk to wherever it was that she was going, but I just let her go. I reasoned that if I had walked her back — the gentlemanly thing to do, she may have thought I was making a play for her, and that would probably have led to all sorts of odd and unanswerable questions, so I didn’t - did that mean I wasn’t interested?
Jesus. This being a girl thing doesn’t half get complicated sometimes.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her though. The reasons were obvious. She was pretty — boy was she pretty and she was my age — I guessed. We were on the same wavelength or appeared to be, with many of the same hopes, fears and aspirations. There were obvious differences — like the fact that she was a girl, while I was just being dressed up to look like one, but it was nice to have someone to talk to who wasn’t trying to force me into being someone I really didn’t want to be.
“So what you been up to?” asked Donna when I returned.
“Nothing; I just sat and chatted with one of the passengers.”
I must have seemed upbeat and I was, but it wasn’t because I was happy as I was. It was all down to having met someone who seemed to put me at ease. I didn’t think Lucy thought of me as anything, just someone to chat to. I hoped it would go further though. Anyway, Donna didn’t press and I wasn’t going to volunteer anything.
“You’d better get changed. I’ve booked us a table at Antoine’s later.”
“What’s Antoine’s?” I asked, though really it wasn’t hard to work out that it was going to be one of the restaurants on board.
“A very nice place to eat, now come on, chop-chop and put something good on.”
“Something good?” I thought. I had hoped that asking about the restaurant would prompt Donna to divulge a little more about the plan for the evening, but no. It was going to be another one of those things I have to walk into blind and hope that it’s not going to involve dancing - again.
To be continued…
Chapter 3
By Nick B
(C) 2007
The one where Kim makes a decision
Kris yet again worked miracles, not because the script was bad, but because she was having a really crappy day, her laptop has been pronounced D.O.A. and she still managed to get this back to me. Well done Kris!
Antoine’s was a fairly intimate place and involved a dinner for the two of us.
“So how are you getting on?” she asked.
I don’t know quite what she expected me to say. So far over the last two days, I had been plonked into a situation I clearly had little or no control over and wasn’t at all sure which way was up. Were I at home I would no more of dreamed of dressing this way than flying unaided, but here I was, dolled up to the nines, as a girl.
I could see that the dinner and dance outing was well, probably a bit of a joke, but to continue to push me out into the big, wide world like this was fast losing its appeal — if it had any to begin with.
I knew I was fighting against something that I couldn’t do much about, well not immediately and it felt like falling — I knew I couldn’t stop it and I also knew that the fall itself wasn’t going to be bad, but the sharp stop at the end, now that was something else entirely.
“Alright, I suppose.” I said, not really sure why what was happening was happening and definitely unsure that dressing me up like some cheap alternative to the Spice Girls was the answer to my predicament. I wondered why rather than taking me to dinner, she couldn’t have sported the cash for some emergency clothing?
“Huh!” she said, looking somewhat deflated. “There’s gratitude for you.”
“It’s not that I’m not grateful, it’s just that I don’t feel right like this. I appreciate how much support people have given; donating their clothes and whatnot, but I’m not a girl, I’m a boy — well man and…” I shrugged and looked back at my wine glass.
“Are you sure? You look better than some girls I have seen and a damned sight more attractive than you did when you first came on board.”
There was no denying that my current guise was better presented, but that didn’t detract from the fact that what I was, (was) well, male and what I looked like was female. Whether I looked better as one over the other wasn’t the point. I leant across the table and said the next part quietly.
“Why can you not understand that just because I don’t look particularly masculine, doesn’t mean I will just drop straight into the guise of a girl and enjoy it. I’ve spent my whole life — short as it is — knowing I’m no stud to look at, but I’ve got used to it and that’s the way it is. Despite my shortcomings, I still want to look male, or as near as I can manage, not this, this… whatever you’ve made me into.” I said plucking roughly at my blouse and making Donna wince.
The rest of dinner was rather more subdued. Donna kept throwing me glances, I suspect to see whether I was likely to get angrier than she thought I was already. I wasn’t angry, just frustrated. I didn't feel I fitted like this and wanted out. I wanted to be dressed in clothes I felt comfortable in and sit on the deck, drifting along enjoying the cruise, but if the last couple of days were anything to go by, that wasn’t likely.
There was something I’d observed about women and that is that as long as they haven’t got a face like a bag of spanners and a halfway reasonable bod, they will get hit on. I was hit on plenty during the dance and I didn’t like it then. I didn’t suppose that more exposure to it would make it any better but it did kind of go with the territory. However, spending the rest of my three week cruise politely telling blokes to sod off wasn’t my idea of fun.
“Look, I know it’s not the perfect situation, but I was planning on going to the nightclub after this. Why don’t you come along? If it’s no good you can always leave.” There was me thinking I had got away with not having to ‘shake my thang’ and there I was — again. This time though, it wasn’t in a fairly brightly lit ballroom, but more intimate surroundings and with music that was much more up my street. This time Donna’s idea to go to the nightclub was welcome.
I kept thinking about Lucy and well, you know how it goes — thinking I’d got a chance, if only I could get back into man-clothes.
My heart nearly missed a beat when there she was. She came rushing over to me and nearly swept me off my feet.
“I’m so glad you came.” she said, giving me a hug.
“I’m glad you’re here. I would feel a bit like a fish out of water without you.”
“You needn’t, you wouldn’t be alone for long.”
I wanted to tell her that being alone would be preferable to being preyed upon by men. I just smiled and we went to the bar to get some drinks.
I was hoping to dance with her and we did, but together, not ‘together’, which I suppose was expected, but soon enough, fellas were dancing with us and whilst I felt rather uncomfortable, she was in her element.
I was dreading the slow dance and bowed out after a couple of numbers only to be followed back to the table I had found by the guy who thought he was dancing with me. Well we WERE in the same vicinity, but… Anyway, his name was Saul and he was all about him. “I this…” and “I that…” and within minutes I was almost yawning.
Fortune smiles on the brave though and having not told him to bugger off like I was thinking, he was still yakking on and on when Lucy and her fella, Eric, returned. She sat down beside me and we started chatting amongst the four of us, which was no mean feat with the loud music.
When our glasses were empty, I was going to do the gentlemanly thing and get refills — I’m going to have to remember about this as there ARE advantages to being part of the fairer sex — but Eric offered instead.
“What do you think?” asked Lucy as the two blokes disappeared towards the bar.
“What about?”
“Eric, silly.”
“Oh, um, I don’t know. Do you like him?”
“I don’t know. He’s a bit full of himself.”
“Mine too. Didn’t stop talking about himself all the time you were dancing.” We laughed at the daftness of men and decided that we’d have a drink with these two and then give them the bum’s rush, I think Lucy had the idea that we would find more suitable beaus. I was just hoping to get the hell out of there.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying the sounds or the atmosphere, but I wasn’t in any way pleased at the prospect of watching Lucy team up with some la-di-dah Neanderthal and bugger off with him, leaving me to team up with some other equally macho slob, whose idea of impressing a girl was half of lager, a quick jig on the dance floor, then out the back for a swift knee-trembler.
Saul and Eric returned and were looking quite smug. They put drinks down in front of each of us and sat down. I don’t know quite what was on their minds — well I do, but I was trying desperately to steer well clear of all that mucky stuff.
We were both a little tipsy and were doing things that girls do, clowning around, getting quite close to one another and when I turned my head to see her face just an inch or two from mine, I took my chance and gave her a kiss, which got a roar of approval from the two guys.
The response wasn’t exactly what I expected or hoped for, but in the cold light of day, I guess that to suddenly find yourself, lips crushed together with those of another girl, may well be a little disconcerting. It wasn’t for me, but then I wasn’t a girl (despite appearances) and I was thinking about her from a guy’s perspective. Boy this could get very confusing.
She just giggled and I could see that it was all taken in fun; you know the way girls can be so close as to appear intimate without fearing being seen as lezzies.
For me it was quite a rush. God I wish she had taken that kiss as seriously as I.
Anyhow, by the end of the evening, we were pretty razzed and having ditched Saul and Eric, we wandered back towards her cabin arm in arm, singing the refrain from a song by a popular beat combo, whilst trying to walk in a straight line and not giggle quite so much. We reached the door to her cabin and although I wanted to give her another kiss, she hugged me instead and then kissed my cheek.
“I’ve had a really good time.” she said and giggled again. “Good night Kim, see you tomorrow.”
I wandered back towards Donna’s cabin, but found it locked and knocking didn’t get me anywhere, so I headed back to mine.
The next morning I had a bit of a hangover and having just crashed out on arrival back at my cabin, I looked like a panda too. As much as washing got the majority of the makeup off and looking better, I needed some remover to clean it off properly. I also needed a change of clothes. The only place I knew I could get them was Donna’s cabin. This living between the two, wasn’t working out particularly well, since she was the only one with a key for hers.
Still she was up and about when I got there and didn’t seem in the least bit distressed that I had gone back to my cabin the night before. I showered, cleaned myself up and reapplied some eyeliner, since it was the only thing I knew how to do properly, humming the same tune that Lucy and I had been singing on the way back after the nightclub.
“Who’s a happy bunny this morning then?” asked Donna as I exited the bathroom, combing my hair. I just shrugged; looking a little smug I suppose and grinned. “Well, well, well and don’t we look nice this morning?”
This looking ‘nice’ was something I was actually getting into. The fact that it was looking girly nice didn’t seem to matter. I enjoyed the compliments I was getting for having made an effort, however simply the things I did were done. True I had a lot to learn about makeup, but slapping a bit of eyeliner on was something after a couple of stabs in the eye, one tends to get good at quite quickly.
“How did you get on last night?” she asked on the way to the breakfast bar.
“I got a bit drunk.” I replied.
“I know that, but what about the other thing?” she pressed, nudging me with her elbow and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
I was about to ask “What other thing?” but remembered the two fellas Lucy and I were with, then the penny dropped. She thought that Lucy and I got off with a couple of blokes. How many times was I going to have to tell her that I wasn’t that way inclined?
“Oh, you know…” I said and left it hanging. There were far too many people about to start trying to explain to someone that didn’t want to hear that I hadn’t even got into kissing, let alone horizontal jogging.
“Ah-ha!” she exclaimed and it was her turn to look incredibly smug. I on the other hand, shook my head resignedly and considered putting the next one into the ships hospital just to show her what can happen when you try touching me where it matters.
Breakfast was cool. Some hot coffee and croissants was fast becoming a firm favourite with me. I was usually a cornflakes and cup of tea bloke - if that most days. Maybe it was the sea air.
Lucy was coming in with another couple as I was finishing up. I was glad I took the time to have a shower and make myself look presentable.
It seemed odd now I come to think about it; that I should be applying makeup and putting clean and pressed girl clothes on to impress another girl. On the face of it, for a boy, it’s the most natural thing in the world, but when you consider that I look like a girl and I’m trying to impress a girl who’s into boys…
Perhaps I was deluding myself. The kissing thing was something that was drink induced. Sober, I don’t suppose she would stand for that. I guess I could try and find out, but right now, having someone that I thought trustworthy was much more important than the thought of a short bout of tonsil hockey under the life boat — in lieu of there being no bike sheds.
“Hi Kim.” she said with a note of hangover in her voice.
“So this is the famous Kim is it?” said one of the older couple who entered the breakfast bar with her. Well, I say ‘older’ but they couldn’t have been more than thirty-five if that.
“Sorry. Pete, Gil, this is Kim. Kim, this is my Uncle Pete and Aunty Gil.”
“I’m not your auntie, Lucy!” the young woman admonished.
“Well, it’s easier than telling the truth.”
I wondered what that meant, but it was followed by a few seconds of awkward silence that often hangs in front of you after someone puts their foot in it as Pete, Gill and Lucy all looked as though they wished they hadn’t bothered getting up that morning.
“The croissants are very good today and the coffee’s delicious as usual.” I said brightly, trying to divert the attention from two red faces and one look of obstinacy. No prizes for guessing who was looking tight-lipped and obstinate.
When breakfast was over and everyone had stopped looking daggers at Lucy, who was studiously playing the part of the aloof teenager, she grabbed me and nearly dragged me out of the breakfast bar. Pete shouted “where are you going?” and Lucy rolled her eyes.
“As if I can go far on this tin can!” she said tutting loudly.
I couldn’t help but smile. There we were, probably a good couple of hundred miles from anything that could remotely be described as dry land and they were asking her where she was going. She pulled me to her, threaded her arm through mine and we wandered off down the deck, the slightly chilly breeze blowing through our hair. We walked in near silence, just the odd sentence here and there to punctuate the sound of the sea and the breeze.
It was then that it dawned on me. I was assuming that Lucy wasn’t into me, yet she clearly was, but in what way? The one thing that I hadn’t done was ask her about it.
“Um, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” I asked; my voice no more than a hoarse whisper.
“Sorry, what was that?” she asked. I blushed.
“Would you like to join me for dinner?” I asked.
My heart was in my mouth as I watched closely for a reaction. She seemed to think about it for a while before telling me what I least wanted to hear.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” she said.
“Why?” I asked. “You like me and I like you. What’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t want to be with you — that way.”
“What; you’ll eat breakfast with me and walk arm in arm down the decks of this ship, but you won’t eat dinner with me?”
“Um, it’s a bit more than that.”
“Well; what more?” I asked.
“I can’t say.” she said and broke away from me, running off up the deck and round the corner.
“What did I say?” I wondered, which was followed swiftly by “Why me?”
I wandered dejectedly back to Donna’s cabin and knocked on the door. I needed to tell her that one way or another I needed to get back to being Kim the slovenly, unkempt, but above all — Male.
I had less money now than I started with and I was trying to formulate a plan for getting some clothes as an alternative to looking like a teenage girl, which wasn’t doing anything for my love life and whilst I had learned the skill of makeup application and how to pick out an outfit, but that wasn't really what I wanted, was it?
Donna answered the door.
“This really isn’t a good time, Kimmy. Can you come back in an hour, no make it two?”
“Brilliant!” I thought as she closed the door. “This is just getting better and better.”
I wandered even more dejectedly back to my cabin. That noisy hole in the depths of beyond and wondered whether I should bother to ever come back out again. I was about to turn into the corridor and go down to my cabin when I heard voices.
“You haven’t seen him?” said a woman’s voice. I was sure I recognised it but couldn’t quite place it.
“How can you call that a him?” said another, a man this time.
“There’s no need to be like that, it’s not his fault.”
“Wouldn’t catch me getting caught up in all that, I mean, imagine dressing up as a girl for God’s sake.” The man laughed, a bitter derisive laugh that made me want to go and confront him, but I just hung back.
“You’re a nasty, nasty man, d’you know that?” said the woman.
“And I should care why?”
“Just tell him that Margaret’s looking for him.”
“I’ll try and remember.”
“Make sure you do. Cabin 15C.”
I imagine that was the officer that knocked on my door the other day. There I was thinking that I had passed with flying colours and all the time he already knew and that was confirmed as first Margaret went past and then a couple of seconds later, the officer sauntered past too. I slipped quietly round the corner to my cabin.
I was stuffed. I thought Donna and a few of her friends were the only ones who knew I was not a girl, but it appears I was wrong.
I took my shorts and shirt down to the ships laundry and waited for them to do before I almost ran back to my cabin. I got out of Kim-en-femme, into Kim, scrubbed my face to try and clear off all the makeup, slicked my hair back into something a little more befitting for a boy and headed for cabin 15C.
To be continued…
By Nick B
(c) 2007
The one where Donna shows her true colours
Another big hug and thanks to Kris for doing the proofing on this one - twice! She has nerves of steel I'm tellin' you.
I decided to visit that officer before going to see Margaret. I figured that there was just an outside chance that I had been wrong about the two blokes that said they would deal with my baggage. Well, you never know.
Thinking about the officer’s visit to the cabin made my skin crawl. There was just something about him that I didn’t trust. It wasn’t just his outspoken prejudice, but for a person in his position, the way he spoke to Margaret was unforgivable. I wondered what he might have to say.
I needed to visit the little boy’s room en-route and when I saw my hair in the mirror I just had to do something with it. I damped it down, well in fact I totally soaked it, scraped it this way and that and STILL it looked feminine. I needed something to cover it since there was nothing I seemed able do to it to make it look less like a girl’s haircut. Coupled with the shaped brows, I was having a hard time seeing me as a male, despite the change of clothes and judging by the looks I got on exiting the gents, so were a few others.
I bought a baseball cap since it was cheap and pulled it on. Looking in the small mirror on the sunglasses rack, it did make a difference, but not as much as I was hoping for. Unless I pulled it down right over my eyes, you could still see the eyebrows and they kind of gave the game away.
Oh well, deep breath and off to that officer’s office.
I know, I keep referring to him as ‘that officer’, but I didn’t know who the hell he was. He wore a cap and had things on his shoulders, so as far as I was concerned, he was an officer. He was also an arsehole, but I felt it best to let him dig that hole for himself. He didn’t need my help there.
I arrived at his office and knocked on the door.
“Come!” said a stern voice from within. He was sat behind a desk, smug-looking and wearing an expression that made me want to stand with my back to the wall.
He told me to shut the door and sit down almost dismissively. I didn’t think his tone went with placating a passenger who through no fault of his own (as far as he was concerned) had lost all his baggage and had been left to fend for himself.
“You left a message for me to come and see you.” I said as ingratiatingly as possible, trying to use politeness to offset his abrasiveness.
“Yes, it’s about your baggage.”
“You’ve found it?” I said, knowing damned well he hadn’t and neither had anyone else on this damned floating sardine can.
“I’m afraid not. Apparently it wasn’t brought aboard.”
“Why ever not?” I asked, knowing that Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dummer on the docks were probably responsible for that mishap. “What am I supposed to do? Do you have any suggestions?” I asked.
“What’s wrong with that other look you seemed to have got good at?”
“Sorry?”
“Well, the skirts, blouses, heels.” There was an extra bit of leering when he said the word ‘heels’. I could feel myself blushing and getting just the teeniest bit pissed off.
“That wasn’t my idea and I wouldn’t have dressed like that at all had I not had my baggage misplaced for me.” I contested hotly. “So look. I can’t keep on wearing this all the time can you help?”
“I’m sorry, but no we can’t. You do have an alternative, so I feel that you should do just fine.” he answered, giving me a grin that said a lot more than the words alone.
I was furious and getting furiouser — I don’t know how else to describe my feelings at that time. I was hoping that if he saw me in what amounted to men’s clothes I would have got a bit more respect, but I was wrong.
Once again I was on back to square one. I sat waiting for him to relay the message from Margaret, but it didn’t happen.
“Well?” he asked in that downright condescending way of his.
“Nothing.” I almost spat and left the office.
I closed the door to his office and couldn’t believe that that was it. Not only did he not feel it necessary to help, but worse, he seemed to take a kind of sadistic delight in watching me suffer as a result of this baggage fiasco.
I really didn’t like that man.
Perhaps he didn’t like me either and that was just his way of showing it.
I hoped I would have better luck with Margaret.
Ooh it made me mad.
The sea air or something about that vast apparent emptiness seemed to blow out the fire that was raging inside and I calmed down.
It occurred to me that this was the first time since this trip started, barring the first day that is, that I hadn’t had to worry about whether my boobs were straight, my hair just so or whether my makeup was okay and instead, I found myself worrying about other aspects of how I looked.
I knew I looked hideous in the clothes I was currently wearing, not least because of the nail polish that I had completely overlooked in trying to look ‘manly’. Reluctantly, I had to concede that although they were meant for a girl, I did look more presentable en-femme, so I headed back to my cabin and the outfit I wore for breakfast.
It was some time later that I knocked on the door of cabin 15C.
There was no reply.
I knocked again, louder this time and waited…
…and waited…
…and finally knocked again.
Despite the hefty pounding I gave and fears that my knuckles were now damaged, I received no reply from her cabin and only managed to bring the man from 16C out instead.
“What the hell’s going on out here?” he demanded. I looked at him and I could see he was just about ready to punch me out, but stopped short when he saw what he thought was a girl. “Sorry, it’s just that the wife’s seasick, has a migraine and only minutes ago, there was a right old racket going on out here. I have no idea what was happening, but all this noise is doing nothing to alleviate her discomfort.”
“I’m so sorry.” I replied. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll call back later.”
He disappeared closing the door behind him, leaving me wondering what had happened. Revellers perhaps? Probably not at this time of the day, but my gut feeling was that Margaret was somehow involved and that intrigued me.
I still had about an hour to kill before Donna was about, so I decided to go tour the ship. There were shows and café’s, shops and pools — even a gymnasium — not that I was going to even try and put on a leotard. Come to think of it, I wasn’t going to be able to use the pools either, not without drawing an awful lot of attention. Still, coffee sounded good.
Café Paris was fairly quiet. It was a real tables-and-chairs-on-the-pavement affair and after a while of sitting outside sipping a cappuccino and watching this micro-world go by, one could be forgiven for forgetting that this was a ship, not some arcade or backstreet off the Champs Elysées - minus the cobblestones of course!
I suppose being in such a small community, it was only a matter of time before Lucy and I bumped into one another again. She was walking alone across the atrium and I don’t think she noticed me until it was too late. I got up and went across to her.
“Hiya. How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Um, okay, I guess.” she replied and I could feel the tension growing.
“Would you like to join me for a coffee? I can say without fear of contradiction, that the cappuccino is quite excellent.” I said dramatically. I don’t think she wanted to, but she wound up smiling and well, I think she just gave in.
We sat there for a good couple of hours in the end. I asked her if she’d eaten and whether she had plans. I had no intentions of candle-lit anything, but after three cappuccinos, I needed to eat something before my stomach turned on me.
“Just a snack maybe?” I asked.
To my utter amazement, she agreed and the two of us headed for the food court that was about as impersonal as one could get.
I was hungrier than I thought and went and got seconds of everything, returning with a full plate, to wide eyes from Lucy.
“How… Your figure… You can’t possibly…”
I just grinned.
“I have a high metabolism and right now, I think I need it. It’s not quite as relaxing as I thought this cruising thing.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just not what I expected. Not what I expected at all.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s not really a case of not liking it; it’s more a case of not being able to be myself.” I almost had to kick myself under the table for that one. Lucy looked at me with a kind of questioning look.
“Is it because of me?”
“Sort of, but no. Not really. It’s complicated and…”
“Ah there you are.” said Pete. As usual, Gil was beside him. “Hello Kim.”
“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me dragging Lucy here to lunch.”
“Not at all. It’s nice to see her out and about instead of moping round the cabin.” said Gil. The look that Lucy gave her could have curdled cream at several hundred yards. “She needs someone of her own age to have fun with.” Another daggers expression from Lucy, which seemed to go unnoticed by Gil or Pete.
“Well, you look as though you’re enjoying yourselves, so try and stay out of trouble. We’ll see you back at the cabin later.”
That was that. A very embarrassed looking Lucy was doing her best to hide the look of horror that was unmistakable on her extremely pretty face.
“What?” she demanded. I tried to keep my face straight.
“Nothing.” I said as matter-of-factly as I could muster.
“Good!” she said. I couldn’t help it, I just burst out laughing and pretty soon, we were both laughing.
“Do you fancy a dip in one of the pools?” she asked.
“Oh shit!” I thought. There’s no way I can hide inside even a tight one-piece. For one or rather two things, my ‘breasts’ wouldn’t stay where I put them, plus, even in cold water, my manliness — such as it would be at low temperature — would be unmistakeable
“Er, I can’t.” I said rather nervously.
“What, can’t swim?”
“Oh, I swim just fine - like a brick in fact, but I can’t. I’ll happily join you and watch from the side, but I can’t.”
“Spoilsport. Come on, it’ll be lovely.”
“I’m sure it will, but I don’t think so, not today.”
“Ah! Why didn’t you say?”
I had to think for a moment on how to answer that one, but then it dawned on me. She thought I meant I had the curse. Works for me.
“I didn’t think it proper.” I said.
“Another time then.”
“Yes.”
I think I meant it, but right now, it just made me feel better knowing I wasn’t going to have to besport myself in the nuddie or at least not have to worry about who saw that beneath this feminine exterior, throbs… well anyway it does whenever Lucy’s around.
We talked a lot, sitting close together most of the time and I wished the day would never end. It didn’t have to, but it was getting cold outside, she wanted a shower and would eventually be going off for dinner and I figured I could do with a change of clothes for dinner too.
I went back to Donna’s cabin. I didn’t think anything of having spent all day out with Lucy, but evidently, Donna didn’t feel the same way.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. I have to say, I was shocked. I didn’t think it any of her business.
“Here and there.” I replied as casually as I could.
“So what; my cabin is a bloody hotel is it?”
“Er, that was you idea, not mine. Look, I’ll get my stuff and go back to my cabin if it’s all the same. It was starting to grate anyway, having to live between the two.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You’ll come in this instant. I definitely need to have a few words with you.”
Since when did she become my mother?
I went inside as I figured that whatever rant she was going off on, would just sail over my head. Then I could pick up my stuff (well alright, the stuff I’d been given) and then go back to my cabin. It might be noisy and it might not have the same luxurious quality as Donna’s but at least I could come and go as I pleased.
“I said be back in two hours didn’t I?”
“You say a lot of things, Donna and I’m under no obligation to pay any attention to any of them if I don’t want. Frankly I’m tired of acting the perfect little girl for you and as much as it pains me, I have no choice but to continue dressing this way until I get home and I don’t need you telling me what t do.”
“Of all the nerve!” she spluttered. “I give you the hospitality of my suite and this is how you repay me?”
“You want paying? I had no idea this all came with a price tag. I thought being trapped in this hell-hole of a disaster was payment enough. Sod it! I’m getting my stuff and I’m outta here!”
I turned to walk away to what I had considered my room when there was a sharp pain in the back of my head and twinkles round the eyes before my knees gave way and the lights went out.
“That was quite a nasty fall you had.” said Donna.
The man with her, peering over a pair of half-moon glasses introduced himself as Dr. Weintraub. I tried to sit up, my face contorting with the rage of her saying I fell for one thing and the fact that I wanted to tell the doctor it was no fall, but I failed to do so, for another.
“Stay vhere you are, young lady. I haff giffen you a mild sedatiff, you should sleep.”
I vaguely remember Donna thanking the good doctor for his time and him saying something about glad to be of help. He also said something about a check up with regards to the ‘other’ medicine.
What other medicine?
Again the lights went out.
I have no idea how long I was out, no idea what odd chemicals were now floating around in my body and no idea how long Donna planned on keeping me here. All I knew was that I was pretty scared.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
“No thanks to you. A ‘fall’ was it?”
“Well I had to do something. I didn’t want to resort to drugs, especially since you seemed to be doing so well, but you forced my hand.”
“Drugs? What sort of drugs?”
“Just a little something to make you a little more relaxed about things; give you a bit more incentive to be the Kimmy we all know and love.”
“It won’t work you know.” I said, finding it difficult to get my head round this latest turn of events. Of course if my head didn’t hurt so much in the first place, perhaps that would have made things a little easier.
“Oh I guarantee that they’ll work. Dr. Weintraub has given you a small implant. That should take no longer than a month to get to grips with your masculinity. Fortunately, you’re such a wimp anyway; it should help speed up the process. You should start seeing results in a week or two.
“What have you done to me?”
“I haven’t done anything and if you hadn’t been so intent on doing you own thing rather than doing as I asked, perhaps none of this would have been necessary. Anyway, it’s time for your shot. The good doctor suggested you stay in bed until your head heals and I’m inclined to agree. Looks like you’ll be spending the next three or four days here.”
I tried; God knows I tried to fight her off, but I just didn’t have the energy or strength for that matter and a few seconds later, a slight jab in the arm was followed shortly afterwards by blackness.
My ears were ringing, my body was shaking and the bump on the back of my head was still tender, feeling like a large bird - probably an ostrich laid it — though thankfully not nearly as painful as it was. I had trouble standing and even more trouble moving once I’d managed that.
“Nice to see you up and about.” said Donna.
“Only just.” I said.
“Whatever. You’re up and that’s the main thing. Do you feel well enough to go to breakfast?”
I was famished. I didn’t know how long I was sedated, was it three days, four or was it longer. Anyway, I was absolutely starving. Had I not eaten as much as I had with Lucy, how ever long ago that was, I think I’d be feeling even worse today — if that’s possible.
“I think I can manage.” I replied.
“No funny stuff. Otherwise I’ll have to get good Dr. Weintraub in to sort you out on a more permanent basis. You might as well just relax and enjoy the trip.”
“There’ll be no funny stuff Donna.” I said resignedly, scarcely able to shuffle along, my head still feeling woozy.
We made our way to the breakfast room — incidentally also known as the food court. Running away wasn’t likely as much as I wanted to. I had to be helped along by Donna the whole way and I felt such a twit getting in there and walking like a bloody geriatric.
The one thing about going to breakfast there was the possibility of meeting up with Lucy. Well that and the delicious croissants and coffee they served at breakfast time. I started this time with some orange juice, followed by croissants and I have to say, it was harder to get them down than I thought.
The coffee tasted weird too. I don’t know whether that’s as a result of the shots, feeling bad or what, but I stomached it because I knew it would make me feel better and to help it along, I had my fingers crossed.
I hoped it would make me feel more like a human and less like a poor excuse for one, but I have to say that the wooziness didn’t go away. I don’t know what the drugs they had been giving me were, but food wasn’t having the desired effect on quelling the queasy feelings I had in my stomach.
You can’t know how pleased I was when Donna went off to the toilet and almost immediately in came Pete, Gil and Lucy. They came and sat at my table and as bad as I felt, I gave them all a big smile.
We’ve missed you, or at least ONE of us has! Have you been hiding?” asked Pete, smiling at me and giving Lucy a quick sideways glance, though I could see that Lucy looked a lot less pleased with that remark than I was. I could feel the shakes starting to build and I just HAD to get out of there as quickly as I could.
“Not exactly.” I said. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. Any chance you can give me a hand to get out of here?”
By Nick B
© 2007
I never wanted to go on this damned cruise. Three weeks of moochin’ about with my uncle and his partner. That’s not his partner as in living together and sex type partner, but his working partner.
I have no idea what they do, but it seems pretty important; important enough to be going to New York on a boat anyway. Taking weeks off was not something everyone did whenever they liked, but these two seemed to have no problem.
Anyway, Uncle Pete asked me if I’d like to go and I virtually got volunteered by mum, who thought it was a wonderful idea. I'll give her wonderful.
“Get out, see the world” she said and let me tell you, I’ve been on this ship a week now and the world I’ve been seeing hasn’t changed. Well it does change, I mean, it sort of alternates between sea, sky, clouds; sea and sky with no clouds and sea and clouds. The one fixed item being sea. Sometimes it’s rough, sometimes it’s smooth, but mostly it’s just there. If I never see sea ever again I won’t care.
If this place wasn’t like a glorified holiday camp, I wonder what people would find to do. I suppose they could always hold bets on when the next ship would appear on the horizon.
I’m sorry, do I sound a tad bitter? Well I suppose I am. I’m sharing a cabin with Uncle Pete and Aunty Gil and that sucks. Her real name is Gillian, but she hates being called Aunty. I like that, so I call her it as often as possible. It helps to break up the day.
So anyway, there I was, minding my own business going in to breakfast when suddenly I see this girl. She’s leaving the food court as I’m going in and - I’m starting to blush at the thought - I felt something there; you know like attraction. I later discovered that apparently she felt the same, but anyway, I just carried on to breakfast when I hear all this commotion outside. I didn’t know what happened until afterwards, but there was a huge ruckus when she apparently ended up going over the railing and down into the pool about twenty feet below. She was alright thank goodness, but none too impressed with her early morning dip.
She’s funny and her name is Kim. We spent the whole of the rest of that day together and at the end I thought that the trip might not have been such a bad thing after all. It’s weird but I get tingly when I see her and I’m not sure I like it. I don’t really want a ‘girlfriend’, well I don’t — that’s it and all about it.
A couple of days later, we met in the nightclub. It’s the first time I’d been out that late and there she was. We picked up a couple of boys and blew them off - I mean dumped them, silly - after a couple of drinks and spent the rest of the time clowning around.
Then it happened.
She kissed me, or did I kiss her?
Whatever, I was pretty drunk, but then so was she and we just found ourselves there, face to face, our lips just a fraction of an inch apart and then they touched. God it felt like someone had wired my lips to a battery or something and I was well upset when it finished. She could have taken all night the way it felt, I wouldn’t have minded.
The next day of course, I felt guilty as hell. I had really enjoyed that kiss and at that admission, the real meaning of what I was getting off on hit home.
“Kim’s a girl.” my head said. “That means you like girls.”
Sometimes I can be a bit dense; a bit slow, but the penny DID drop — eventually.
“Eeeeeeeyeeeeeew!!”
See, it dropped...
...and clattered about a bit.
Then of course, we met up the next day and as soon as I saw her, I was like, all of a flutter. I tried my best to just be me and calm, but really, all that was happening was my head was replaying that kiss over and over and I wanted more while at the same time, I felt like “NO!” Isn’t that odd?
Course when she said that she wanted to take me out to dinner something in me couldn’t take it. It meant announcing to the world that I was into girls and I couldn’t accept that.
I did what any normal girl would do. I ran away.
Having said that, they had met her at breakfast the day I ran off, but how would they have known that she was the one I was… It doesn’t matter as it transpired as I bumped into her again outside one of the café’s.
She invited me for cappuccino and I ended up staying with her and going to lunch as well. I couldn’t believe the effect that girl was having on me and there I was saying to myself, “she’s just a friend”, yet all the time, the slightest touch or even just being with her was sending my pulse rate soaring.
I don’t know what happened or maybe it was something I did, but I didn’t see her for four days. I was almost climbing the walls and although I didn’t say anything to ether Uncle Pete or ‘Aunty Gil’, I think they knew. Anyway, on the fifth day, there she was in the food court having breakfast.
I wanted so much to be angry at her, but she looked, well, like shit.
Uncle Pete spoke first, telling her that we’d missed her and then pointing out that it was really me that had done the missing. I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me, but then things just went off at about a hundred miles an hour.
She asked if we’d help her out and when she stood up, I could see she was shaking — quite badly too. I tried to get to her before she hit the deck, but none of us did and she just collapsed in a heap on the floor, sending her chair backwards. A collective gasp went up around the court and people were staring at her.
I felt so bad, all I wanted to do was tell them all to go away, stop staring, anything but what they were doing, but my mouth just didn’t want to work.
God she looked awful. Her face was grey and her eyes were all like sunk into their sockets. Uncle Pete and ‘Aunty Gil’ were really concerned and were there beside her in no time, picking her up — well Uncle Pete did and carried her out of the food court. One of her arms just seemed to hang there, lifeless and I took her hand in mine, hoping that she could feel it and know, even though she was out cold, that I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her — I wouldn't let anything bad happen to her.
Our cabin was closer than the ships infirmary, so Uncle Pete carried her there and asked that ‘Aunty Gil’ and I keep an eye on her. I felt so useless, not knowing what to do. I knew CPR, but this was hardly the time for that. Whatever was wrong with her wasn’t something that mere first aid could fix.
Uncle Pete had put her onto the long sofa in the main cabin and I knelt beside her, almost unable to let go of her hand. She looked so helpless laying there, he face looking drawn, her skin almost cold and I could feel the tears rolling down my face.
Gil surprised me by not saying anything for some time and when she did, what she said was encouraging rather than her usual well-mannered though nonetheless barbed snipes. I looked up at her and couldn’t hold it any longer. I burst into tears and Gil just knelt down beside me, stroking my hair and making me feel better.
From that point on, I decided that I had been mean for long enough and the ‘Aunty’ bit would have to go. Gil didn’t mean me any harm and probably didn’t want to be doing this cruise thing any more than I did, but she was making the best of it and she after all, wasn’t the enemy.
The ships doctor was a nice man and looked to me to be far too young to be a fully fledged doctor, but hey, full power to the man.
He opened one of those black doctor bags and took out a stethoscope listening to Kim’s chest, then he took her pulse, looked into her eyes — all those check-up shaped things and all the while, Uncle Pete, Gil and I were hovering. I was trying to hover closest, feeling that my lost contact with Kim would in some way impede her progress.
“I can’t really tell here.” he said then turned back to Kim. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty ropey.” she replied. “I can’t seem to shake off the shakes.”
“Have you been taking anything?”
“Not that I wanted to take.” she said. The doctor looked a little confused.
“I don’t understand.” he said.
“I’ve been given a few shots by doctor Weintraub and I don’t think they’ve worn off completely. Donna said they were to make me a little more relaxed about things; make me more like the little Kimmy they all know and love.”
The doctor looked at us and we looked at him, equally confused. None of us knew what that meant although Uncle Pete was rubbing his chin thoughtfully and nodding gently.
“I think I’d better get her back to the infirmary.” said the doc. “I can’t do much here. Would you mind?”
Uncle Pete picked her up off the sofa and I asked “will I be able to come and see her?”
“I hope you will. Having people she knows around her will undoubtedly help her get better — well, at least keep her spirits up while we try to find out what ails her.” He smiled at that and somehow I just knew she was in good hands, or at least would be when Uncle Pete put her down.
We all filed out of the cabin, virtually half way round the ship and all the way, people were staring as Uncle Pete carried the semi-conscious Kim to the infirmary. Once there, she was laid on the bed and Uncle Pete and the doctor moved into a small ante room which served as the doctor’s office.
I didn’t hear what was going on, but I could see through the small glass panel in the door that Uncle Pete was doing most of the talking, while the doctor stared, open-mouthed at times. I was starting to get a bit suspicious of Uncle Pete and Gil too for that matter.
I nearly had to be pried away from Kim’s bed before we could all troop back to our cabin.
“Just let the doctor do what he has to do.” said Gil and scooped me off the bed and out. I don’t think Kim even noticed that I’d gone to be honest, but I knew I had once again broken contact with her and that that was not good. I was scared to death that I’d never get to see her again.
In the end, I think it was like about one in the morning; I got dressed and slipped quietly out of the cabin. I headed for the infirmary and knocked quietly on the door.
“Hello, you must be Lucy. The doctor’s told me all about you.” said a nurse in a hushed voice. That calmed me a lot I can tell you as I thought that she’d be there on her own and the fact that this nurse was there in case anything happened was a real tonic.
She showed me to a chair next to Kim’s bed and told me to sit. It was obvious that Kim was asleep; the closed eyes and the gentle snoring gave the game away. I sat down and reached onto the bed, interlacing mine and Kim’s fingers and holding her hand as tightly as I dared without wishing to do any damage. I honestly don’t know what damage I could do, but I figured, like, I’d rather be safe than sorry.
I’d been there about half an hour I suppose when the phone in the office rang. I jumped and I think the nurse did too.
She was on the phone for about half a minute and then a serious look came over her face. I thought it was something to do with Kim, but she gathered together a bag of stuff and headed out of the infirmary, telling me to stay put; that she wouldn’t be long.
I was sitting at the bed, staring at my feet when I heard a noise at the door. It couldn’t have been the nurse, because I suppose I thought she would have been longer. Anyhow, the door knob turned and the door rattled.
“It’s locked.” said a voice.
“Don’t worry, I can open it.” said another, younger voice.
It obviously wasn’t the nurse then. So who was it?
I went to the door and listened as someone fiddled a key into the lock and then the door swung open towards me.
I froze. I just couldn’t help it. I knew what I was doing in the infirmary, but I also knew that Uncle Pete would probably be upset with me for being here without telling him and suddenly I went cold with the anticipation of what might be going to happen. I could hear the two voices and one said to the other “just get in, do it and get out. I can’t be seen here.”
I didn’t know who this man was. He was older than the doctor by a long way and he peered over half-moon glasses as he moved past me and went on towards the bed where Kim lay. I was rooted to the spot, holding my breath and more afraid of giving myself away than turning blue and passing out.
He seemed to look Kim over whilst his hand went to his inside jacket pocket and he drew out a hypodermic needle. There was something in the syringe, but I had no idea what and I started to panic. I knew this was about to be shot into Kim and I had no idea why or what it would do.
I scanned the immediate vicinity for something — anything and saw it; a metal bedpan. I picked it up as the man in the jacket held the syringe, needle uppermost and took the plastic cover off the needle. Then he gently flicked the side of the syringe, just as I got close and kapow!
I closed my eyes and swung the bedpan as hard as I could. It hit him on the head, causing a loud “BONG!!!!” sound to rattle around the infirmary, followed by a lot of little bangs and crashes as the doctor spun round knocking a table and going cross-eyed while he pointed at me, gibbering something about not being in here and then hit the floor.
I stood over him wondering what on earth to do when a familiar voice spoke.
“Looks like you’ve beaten me to it. Not what I would have done, but just as effective. Next time, would you mind waiting for me?”
I spun round to see Uncle Pete standing in the doorway. The emotional outburst afterwards was so embarrassing and I ran to my uncle, flung my arms round him and hugged him as tears flooded out of my eyes and I sobbed.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been here and, and…”
“It’s alright. Don’t cry, you can tell Kim yourself about your heroic deed and tale of derring-do. I’m sure it’ll be very impressive.”
There was a lot going on in the infirmary after that. The nurse had returned complaining about it being a wild goose chase and saying that if she ever finds out who the woman was that made the call, she’d have something to say to her. She was balling her fists and looking extremely upset at having left me to face whatever it was that happened, but the looks on the doctor’s face and even that of the Captain suggested that they didn’t blame her for one moment. I kept out of the way and once again Uncle Pete did a lot of the talking. I just held Kim’s hand and hoped it would all be over soon.
I thought Kim was so lucky. This whole thing went off and she didn’t stir - not once. She just looked real comfortable — aside from the saline drip that was hanging out of her arm, that was, but she didn’t bat an eyelid.
Back at the cabin, Gil was not best pleased that I skipped out without telling her or Uncle Pete. Thankfully, Uncle Pete shushed her and explained that thanks to me, they had caught the one who had given Kim the shots and was about to give her something else too. He said that they didn’t know what it was and the ship’s infirmary wasn’t equipped to analyse the contents, but that would come. Meanwhile, the now infamous Dr. Weintraub was in the brig and wouldn’t get to enjoy the rest of the trip.
“What abut Kim?” asked Gil.
“Slept like a baby. The doctor says that she’ll make a full recovery and should be up and about within a couple of days or so.” said Uncle Pete. “For now though, I think it’s time to get some rest.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice and I hugged him again to say thank you for being there when he was before going off to my room and falling asleep almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.
It was three days before Kim was up and about. When she was, my stomach was doing cartwheels and almost making me sick. We went to the infirmary to collect her. She still wasn’t up to full power yet and the doctor only released her on account of the fact that Uncle Pete said she could stay with us for the duration of her recuperation.
“Man?” said Kim. “He only gave me one shot, it was Donna who fed me most of the drugs.
“Donna?” asked Uncle Pete. “Donna who?”
“Donna Elliot. She has a suite on B deck.”
“A woman?” asked Gil.
“Hey, didn’t the nurse say that a woman had made the call that took her out of the infirmary?” I asked. Three faces turned slowly to look at me and I started to blush.
“She’s right. I’d forgotten about that.” said Uncle Pete, clapping his hands together. “Stay here.”
He and Gil disappeared so fast, I almost thought there’d be scorch marks on the floor.
I looked at Kim. There was something different about the way she looked and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but holding her hand, made me feel better and she didn’t seem to mind.
After all that had happened, I knew I had got used to the idea that I was into another girl and I couldn’t wait to take Kim up on that offer of dinner after this was all over and she was up to getting out again.
Thing was, it wasn’t that simple. Like it would be…
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I would have thought that you of all people would have figured that one out by now.” said Uncle Pete.
“All I know is that…” she stopped, blushing and tearing up. “That, well…”
“This wasn’t what you expected from a cruise?” supplied Gil.
“No, not at all.”
I had heard her say that before but I didn’t know what she meant and I still didn’t. I was itching to know and I was just about to open my mouth to ask, but Gil surreptitiously waved me to stop.
I was starting to get angry. Two people, one of whom I trusted with my life, were hiding things from me and I didn’t like that. Now I got the distinct impression that there was someone else who was pulling the wool over my eyes too and it wasn’t making me a particularly happy bunny.
“What’s with all the secrecy?” I blurted, my eyes filling up. “You’re supposed to be my friends, my family — well not you Gil, but you are supposed to be my friend. So what’s with all the secrets?”
“It’s not us.” said Uncle Pete. “It’s Kim.”
“You mean she’s lying?”
“No…”
“It’s that. I’m not what you think I am.” she said.
“Huh! Like I’m surprised. My Uncle Pete’s not what I thought he was either.”
“It’s not like that at all.” she said and the tears were starting to flow quite freely now. I was also starting to feel like I was pushing too hard and was upsetting her. “I’m not a girl.”
Well that was it for me. My jaw nearly broke as it hit the cabin floor.
“What do you mean not a girl?” I asked, incredulous.
“I think this has gone far enough.” said Uncle Pete.
“NO! What do you mean, not a girl? Like you’re some sort of alien or something?” I spat.
Kim was crying now, in floods of tears and I was so far into my rant that I couldn’t stop. The one person above all that I thought I trusted turned out to be, well not a girl. What the hell was she talking about?
I stomped off, slamming my door and throwing myself onto the bed. I didn’t care that I had just upset greatly the one person I was so afraid of losing did I?
Oh I did.
I wanted to run back into the other room and hug her and squeeze her and tell her I didn't care, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t just do an about turn and run back could I? I had to wait at least a few minutes before I went back and apologised.
I went and listened at the door. I could hear Gil giving support to Kim and all the time she was going up in my estimations. She was a really nice person to have around, especially at times like these.
I felt a complete arsehole. Kim was sobbing and trying to say things while Gil was saying things like “there, there. It’ll all be alright” and I knew it should have been me who was saying that to her, not Gil.
I threw myself back on my bed and cried myself to sleep, wondering if Kim would ever even look at me again, let alone speak to me or love me.
I’d made a right mess of it hadn’t I?
By Nick B
© 2007
The one where it’s Uncle Pete's turn…
Thanks Krisspoos...
My thoughts were filled with the visit to the boss, Ed Crouse’s office where he sprang this trip on me. Not only did he spring (this) the bloody cruise, but also that I would be accompanied by none other than Gil Parker and the suggestion was, my niece Lucy.
Now I had nothing against Gil Parker, she was perfectly good at what she did. It just seemed to me that I should have been able to choose someone that I actually liked to go on this assignment.
“Where does Lucy come into this?” I asked.
“She can be your daughter. It would look so much more natural and attract less attention to yourselves if you had a child with you.”
I thought for a moment, shaking my head. “Child? I don’t know that she’d like to hear you say that.”
“Well she IS only young isn’t she?”
“I don’t know that she would quite see it that way or anyone else either come to that.”
“Well I’m sure you’ll think of something.” said Ed brusquely and showed me to the door, holding it open and ushering, alright — pushing me through it. I wasn’t finished though.
“What if Lucy can’t go?” I asked, stopping midway through the large polished doorway.
“Then find someone else who is and let me have the details.” he said, giving me one final shove and shutting the door firmly behind me. That was that then.
The reason for the trip was simple.
We believed that someone was running a scam out of a dating agency and that was somehow linked to the disappearance of a number of young men in their late teens to early twenties. We could prove nothing, but the boss believed that this trip could help put everything into perspective, mostly because according to sources, a member of the crew of the ship we were to sail on, called the Paradise was apparently involved, though we didn’t know who that crewmember might be.
We had to share the bed anyway since we didn’t know the rank or position of the crewmember involved in all this. We couldn’t take the chance of not sharing and blowing our cover.
“Oh don’t be silly. Who’s going to know?” asked Gil.
“I don’t know and neither do you. We can’t take the chance and get found out. It only takes a slip of the tongue from someone like the cleaner and that’s this mission sunk.”
“Well I’m not happy about this.”
“You can take it up with Crouse when we get back if you like. Believe me, I will.”
To say that the atmosphere was frosty between Gil and I, is a bit of an understatement. The first night aboard I thought that she was going to get into bed in a full suit of armour. As it was, I think I was the less enthusiastic of the two of us. Even though I wore pyjamas I felt exposed, with her eyes following me round the cabin. I wondered if she snored. I was sure I didn't.
Lucy made it no easier. We had to explain that as far as everyone was concerned, she was our daughter.
“Huh! As if.” she snorted.
“What? It’s a perfectly sound idea.”
“Sound?” she asked, her eyes going as big as saucers. “How old were you two when I came along then, like twelve?”
Gil coughed back a laugh and I just fumed. I was hoping we’d get away with it, but obviously not.
“Alright, smarty-pants, what do you suggest?”
“Well you’re like my uncle right? Why not make Gil my aunty?”
It was my turn to stifle a laugh, especially seeing Gil wrinkle her nose at that particular idea and the more I thought about it, the more Gil looked at me with daggers drawn and the more I liked it. It seemed this did have its compensations then.
“Well, that seems to be the best option. Aunty, uncle and niece it is.”
Gil stormed off into the bedroom at that point, huffing and definitely not pleased.
Day two we almost had to push Lucy out the door, figuring that as long as she at least went out for breakfast - that would be something. Lo and behold, it really did seem to work. She came back after breakfast all of a dither. She was excited, yet she was also a bit pensive.
“I think someone’s in love.” said Gil in my ear. I nodded, smiling.
“What?” demanded Lucy, seeing that we were staring at her.
“Nothing.” we chorused.
“Bloody weirdoes. I’m going out.” she said, thrusting her nose into the air. As soon as she passed the cabin window, both Gil and I burst into fits of laughter. At least it relaxed the tension from Gil’s side, but now I had Lucy to contend with and I wasn’t sure that was the lesser of the two evils.
While Lucy went to enjoy herself, Gil and I took a walk around the ship. It was more or less just another cursory glance around to see if we could spot any likely candidates.
“Not all crooks carry bags marked ‘swag’, wear hooped jerseys and black masks you know.” joked Gil.
“I know.” I said, realising that this wasn’t going to be an easy task and we went back to trawling through the hundreds of names on the passenger manifest to see whether we could make any headway there.
The next evening, Lucy asked us if she could go to the nightclub. We were only too pleased to have her out from under our feet since we were busy going through the that huge list of names and having her there with the TV blaring and so on, was terribly distracting. Mind you, Lucy’s attention to detail was wonderful. She never forgot to prefix ‘Gil’ with ‘Aunty’ and I have to say that that in itself was seriously entertaining.
We worked on and being in such close proximity to Gil, gave me a whole new perspective on this woman. I had seen her, worked with her a couple of times, but somehow, she just didn’t seem to stand out particularly.
At this point however, I was close enough to smell the subtle fragrance of her perfume and…
“Are you listening?” she said, sitting back from the laptop.
“What? Oh, er, yes of course.” One eyebrow rose dangerously and I shrugged, wondering whether I should have been letting my mind wander.
“I suppose it is late. Perhaps we ought to call it a night and get some sleep. Coming?”
Now ordinarily, if a woman says “are you coming” — to bed that is, most men would beat them to the bedroom, be stripped naked and waiting for them in two heartbeats or fewer, but on this occasion, I was forced to do a double-take.
“You know what I mean.” she said slapping me playfully on the arm.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It’s not that I’m sacred of intimacy or anything but… okay, so I’m a little nervous. This was an important matter and getting involved with a co-worker was definitely not what this was about. She did smell nice though.
We didn’t hear Lucy return. I vaguely remember something being warbled and giggled outside momentarily, but I didn’t pay much attention. I was too busy realising that Gil’s head was resting on my shoulder, her arm across my chest and I was marvelling at how nice it felt before drifting back off to sleep.
I could hear Gil trying to rouse our associate ‘niece’ in the other cabin. I contemplated stopping her, but I figured she should find out for herself.
“Bugger off!” came the stern reply.
“I thought you’d be ready and raring to go. Look, it’s a lovely day…” she said, blindly walking into the jaws of the waiting alligator and who says they don’t exist outside of tropical and sub-tropical climes?
“Listen ‘Aunty Gil’ either you go close those curtains and get the hell out of here, or I’m afraid I’m going to have to hurt you.”
I could just imagine what was going through Gil’s mind at this point. Did she feel lucky?” Did she? I didn’t think so.
“She’s a bit of a handful first thing isn’t she?” Gil asked moments later.
“Er, no. Not a morning person, our Lucy.” I don’t think my oversized grin helped any.
“Oh, you’re just as bad as her.” she added, slapping me on the arm - again.
It must have done some good though as it was only about fifteen minutes later that a rather bed-headed, bleary-eyed ‘thing’ in dressing gown and big fluffy slippers, exited the other bedroom and padded into the room where Gil and I were going through some notes from the night before.
“You got up then?” I asked.
“Obviously.” she said in that typically obnoxious tone all teenage girls seem to cultivate. “I didn’t have a lot of choice. Someone opened the curtains before I was ready. Do you think I could like, get back to sleep after that?”
“Well, I’m glad you’re up. We can have a family breakfast.” I said brightly.
“Oh you’re just full of it aren’t you?” she snipped. I looked at Gil, who returned my look with one of surprise. That’s teenagers for you.
“A bit hung-over this morning, are we?” I asked dryly. She just poked her tongue out at me.
“Did you meet anyone nice last night?”
“Only Kim really. There were a couple of boys there too, but they were so like into themselves, we had to ditch them.”
“Kim?”
“Yeah. She’s the girl I met the other day.”
Girl? Oh well, perhaps we were wrong about the falling in love bit then.
Anyway, regardless of how she may or may not have been feeling, she did accompany us to the food court where breakfast was already well under way and as luck would have it, the very girl we had been talking about was right there having breakfast herself.
“Hi Kim.” said Lucy, the hangover apparent in her voice.
“So this is the famous Kim is it?” I asked.
“Sorry. Uncle Pete, Aunty Gil, this is Kim. Kim, this is my Uncle Pete and Aunty Gil.”
“I’m not your auntie, Lucy!” said Gil and I have to say that regardless of plans, this cover wasn’t sounding too hot right then. I didn’t say anything, well none of us did. We just stood there while Kim looked on a bit bemused
“Well, it’s easier than telling the truth.” said Lucy and I wished we hadn’t bothered rousing her this morning. Family affairs are definitely NOT what they are cracked up to be.
Kim broke the ice and told us about what she recommended for breakfast and we settled into our chairs. Gil for one was looking daggers at Lucy, who just ignored both of us and went through her breakfast like she hadn’t eaten in a week, finishing off by grabbing Kim by the arm and almost dragging her out of the food court.
“Where are you going?” I asked. Lucy just rolled her eyes and told me “As far as I can on this tin can”, tutting loudly before disappearing out on deck.
“Don’t worry.” said Gil, taking my hand in hers. “She can’t go far.” I felt the warmth of Gil’s comparatively small hand in mine and contemplated keeping hold, but it was removed before I could return the squeeze.
Anyway, it wasn’t how far they could go that I was worried about. There was someone out there who was possibly responsible for the disappearance of half a dozen people. I suppose it wasn’t too much of a problem though, since they tended to favour boys rather than girls and really, how far could they go?
Nevertheless, Gil and I were a bit embarrassed at having had our grubby laundry aired in the food court. We went back to the cabin to continue working, but it wasn’t long before Lucy came back. She had a tear-stained face and was obviously in a quandary. The outer door slammed shut behind her and I swear that they could have heard her stomp across the room in the very bowels of the ship. Without a word, she stomped into her cabin and there was another crash as she slammed that one behind her too.
Gil and I looked at one another and then at the door that was possibly still shaking after feeling that is had been heaved to by forces not of this world. We looked back at one another.
“We’d better go see what happened.” said Gil.
It was a tentative knock that alerted Lucy to our presence.
“Go away.”
“Look we just want to talk to you.” I said. Moments later the door opened slowly and we just saw Lucy throw herself back onto the bed.
“What happened?” asked Gil, sitting beside the prone teenager.
“Nothing.” said Lucy through the pillow as she pressed her head as far into it as it would apparently go.
“It must have been a big nothing that caused all this.” she said gently.
“She wanted to take me to dinner.”
“So?”
“I can’t can I? I’m not her girlfriend.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well, it’s not like breakfast is it?” she sobbed. “It’s like dinner, you know, like restaurant, dim lights; candles? Don’t you know anything?”
“What’s the problem?” asked Gil patiently. “Lots of women go to dinner together, it’s not like they’re girlfriend type girlfriends and even if you and she are getting along that way, what’s the problem?”
Even I was a little shocked by that one, but we left her to it and went back into the lounge to continue with what we were doing.
It wasn’t long before Lucy was back out. She’d fixed her face and aside from a little residual reddening in the whites of her eyes, she looked very presentable.
“I’m going out.” she said and before we could say anything, she was gone. We returned to our work, but a couple of hours later, my stomach was making noises and I decided it was time to get some lunch.
We walked out on deck towards the food court and Gil slipped her arm through mine. I have to say I was a little concerned, but she just looked up at me and smiled.
“For the sake of appearance.” she said.
O… kay. I could handle that. I think.
Meeting up with Lucy and Kim again wasn’t planned, it just seemed to happen. They were bright and cheerful and that minor upset that happened earlier seemed all but forgotten. However, that was the last time we were to see Kim for about four days.
As a result of that, neither were we — well as much as we needed to anyway. It wasn’t Lucy’s fault though. She was smitten; anyone with half a brain could see that and Gil cautioned me to keep my thoughts about the two of them having any form of relationship to myself. Lucy said nothing to us about it, but the difference between her with Kim and without was quite profound.
On the fifth day, we went to breakfast. Lucy had been eating little and moping lots. Fortunately, by this time, we had grown accustomed to it and were getting on with things.
We had kind of got a list of suspects together and were trying to find a way of putting our theories to the test, but really, it was speculation at best. We didn’t have any ideas that were based on anything other than conjecture and vague hypotheses.
In the food court, we encountered Kim and I must say, I’ve seen better looking corpses. Her skin had a greyish cast to it and her eyes were sunken into their sockets.
I made a joke about where she’d been hiding and she smiled, but I could see the deadness in her eyes. Whatever she’d been through, it wasn’t good. Had she perhaps been overdoing it in the nightclub? Drinking too heavily? Whatever it was, she needed to stop it before it stopped her.
She asked if we would help her out of the food court, which surprised me. When she stood, she was visibly shaking and I could feel a cold shiver go down my spine. I just knew this was bad.
This next part all happened so quickly, but as if to confirm my suspicions, before any of us could move, she was lying on the floor. I could hear the whoosh of gasps around us as Kim’s chair slid to a halt and saw the look of concern on Lucy’s face; Gil’s too.
I rushed to her side and picked her up. God, it was like she didn’t weigh anything at all and I marched us all out of the food court amidst the stares to take her back to our cabin.
Bless her, Lucy had one of Kim’s hands and wouldn’t let go. I could see the poor thing was close to tears and regardless of the fact that they hadn’t known each other more than five minutes, I could see for my own eyes that if this all went pear-shaped, she was not going to get over it in a hurry.
I placed Kim gently on the sofa in the cabin and went to get the doctor, telling Gil and Lucy to keep an eye on her, returning some time later to see that fortunately, Kim had regained consciousness.
With Kim safely tucked up in bed, the doctor and I went into his office.
“I have some issues with that little girl out there.” I said and briefly outlined the fact that we were on the lookout for someone and thought that Kim was involved; also that she may not be what she appeared to be.
“She’s not in any trouble is she?”
“Not with me. I trust that I can count on you to keep this to yourself?”
“My lips are sealed. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have given her a thorough examination as to what I find.”
“I appreciate that doctor.”
Later the doctor rang the cabin and confirmed what I thought — that Kim wasn’t a girl after all, that she was in fact the one we had been looking for. It was just one of life’s ironies that the very person we were looking for was right under our noses and had this not happened, we may never have known.
“I would never have guessed.” said Gil.
“Me either. I don’t even think that Kim’s aware of how convincing he is.”
“What do we tell Lucy?”
“Nothing. It’s enough that she can’t get her head round what’s going on let alone telling her that the girl she’s in love with is really a boy.”
“Love? You think it’s gone that far?”
“I do.”
I was just starting to doze off when I heard movement in the cabin. I strained my ears to try and work out what was happening and when the main cabin door opened and closed very quietly, I knew that Lucy had gone outside.
I got out of bed and put some clothes on, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Gil. Performing this feat in the dark wasn’t easy, but despite hopping about on one foot, putting things on several times to get them round the right way or the right side out, I eventually finished and made my way to the infirmary.
Everything round that area was quiet and rather than burst in, which would possibly lead to heart attacks or worse, I hung around in a recess a few yards down the corridor, keeping my eyes on who went in or came out of the infirmary. Ah that ‘stake out’ routine. Standing around for hours waiting for something to happen… which usually didn't.
About twenty minutes later, I saw the nurse come out, lock the door behind her, then run past me, bag in hand. I ducked out of the way and then continued to keep the door under surveillance.
Soon enough, my patience was rewarded as down the corridor and past me, came two men. One was an ordinary chap in a jacket and the other was one of the crew. Trouble was I couldn’t see the crewmembers face.
On they went to the infirmary and the man in the jacket tried the door.
“It’s locked.” he exclaimed.
“Don’t worry, I can open it.” said the crewmember and fiddled about with the keys for a few moments before pushing the door open and telling the jacketed guy to “just get in, do it and get out. I can’t be seen here.” The crewmember then disappeared down the corridor. I wish he’d come back past me so at least I would know who he was.
I crept out of my hiding place in the recess and headed for the door to the infirmary. I stood in the doorway just as Lucy raised a stainless steel bedpan and brought it down on the man’s head. The man did a funny sort of pirouette before sinking to the ground and Lucy dropped the bedpan on him.
“Looks like you’ve beaten me to it.” I said, grinning. “Not what I would have done, but just as effective. Next time, would you mind waiting for me?”
She looked absolutely mortified as she came and gave me a hug, bursting into tears and apologising over and over again.
“I just wish I’d known that was a hoax call.” said the nurse. She looked agitated and I could understand that. “If I ever get my hands on the woman that made that call…”
Fortunately for us, the Captain didn’t think that what the nurse had done was wrong. There was no way she wasn’t to know that the call wasn’t legitimate in the first place, but agreed that what the doctor had attempted was serious; serious enough for him to be incarcerated and we thanked him for seeing it our way.
“I knew you two were on board, but I have been given very few facts about what you’re up to.”
“I know, I’m sorry, but we have to be discreet. It would appear that one of your officers is involved. I saw one earlier unlocking the infirmary door whilst the nurse was out on that bogus call.” I explained.
“This is perhaps more serious than I thought.” he said.
I took Lucy back to the cabin and was really pleased that we had made so much headway and in just over a week too. The sooner we got this sorted, the sooner we could get down to enjoying the cruise.
Gil was waiting up when we got back and didn’t look best pleased.
“Where have you been?” she asked, but I don’t know whether that question was to me or to Lucy.
“It’s alright.” I assured her. “Thanks to our budding hospital helper here and a well aimed bedpan, we now have a certain Dr. Weintraub in custody. The Captain himself had him incarcerated. It looked as though he was trying to give Kim some extra shots. Our intrepid heroine here ensured that didn’t happen.”
“What about Kim?” asked Gil.
“Slept like a baby. The doctor says that she’ll make a full recovery and should be up and about within a couple of days or so. For now though, I think it’s time to get some rest.” No-one argued at that and While Lucy went into her room, I followed Gil back into ours.
“What was Lucy doing?”
“I think she was just concerned, that’s all. The nurse got a call and dashed out, but it turned out to be bogus. While she was out, the crew member we have been looking for and Doctor Weintraub gained entry to the infirmary and while the crewman made a dash for it, the doctor was left to do his thing.”
“She was very brave — Lucy that is.” said Gil. “I think she’s taking this really well.”
“Yeah, but we’ll have to see what happens when Kim gets back out. The doc reckoned it would be about three days before she’d be up and about.”
“She?”
“What?”
“You said ‘she’.”
“So?”
“Kim’s a boy, remember.”
“I’m sorry, it’s late. I still can’t picture Kim as a he.”
“Never mind. I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”
“Yes, but the question is, will he?”
Lucy was like a cat on a hot tin roof all day and in the evening I brought her back. Look, I’m sorry, but even though those breast things have been taken away and the fact that he’s not made up, I still see Kim the girl. I will get used to it.
Anyhow, I had a barrow-load of questions for him upon his return. The first thing I did was tell him that we caught the man who gave him the shots.
“Man?” said Kim. “He only gave me one shot; it was Donna who fed me most of the drugs.
“Donna?” I asked. “Donna who?”
“Donna Elliot. She has a suite on B deck.”
“A woman?” asked Gil.
“Hey, didn’t the nurse say that a woman had made the call that took her out of the infirmary?” said Lucy. We all turned to look at her and poor thing, she started to blush.
“She’s right. I’d forgotten about that.” I said. “Stay here.”
Gil and I ran straight round to the cabin that Kim suggested, but to our chagrin, it was locked and no-one was answering.
We questioned Kim closely when we got back, peeved that our mission had been unsuccessful. We would have to continue the next day. I figured that before breakfast was probably the best time. He gave us a detailed description of Donna and I phoned the security officer to make sure we’d got the right cabin.
Kim was most surprised that we would be going to so much trouble on her account and asked us what was going on.
“I would have thought that you of all people would have figured that one out by now.” I said.
“All I know is that…” He stopped, blushing and tearing up. “That, well…”
“This wasn’t what you expected from a cruise?” supplied Gil.
“No, not at all.”
It was going to happen sooner or later and at that point it was the wrong time, but Lucy started to get quite angry about the secrecy and I tried to get her to stop. She wasn’t having any of it, going on at me and Gil about trust.
“It’s not us.” I said. “It’s Kim.”
“You mean she’s lying?”
“No…”
“It’s that… I’m not what you think I am.” she said.
“Huh! Like I’m surprised. My Uncle Pete’s not what I thought he was either.”
“It’s not like that at all.” he said and the tears were starting to flow. “I’m not a girl.”
Lucy was in full flight now and I’m positive that she wasn’t taking in what she was being told.
“What do you mean not a girl?” she asked, incredulous.
“I think this has gone far enough.” I said.
“NO! What do you mean, not a girl? Like you’re some sort of alien or something?” she yelled.
It went downhill from there. I wasn’t sure we should have allowed it to happen, but it did and thankfully, it didn’t happen for long. Lucy stormed off into her bedroom and Gil went to Kim who was crying buckets. I just stood there, alternating my impotent stares between Lucy’s door and Kim, cradled in the arms of Gil, who was rocking gently and whispering “there, there” and “It’ll all be alright.”
I stood outside on the outer deck and braced myself against the railing looking out over the sea as the sun went down. It was beautiful out there sometimes and tonight ironically, was one of them. I decided to take a wander and found myself heading towards Donna’s cabin.
As I neared, I could hear the sound of raised voices.
“Of course it’s your fault, you shouldn’t have left him. Shit! Now Herb’s been locked up and the shits going to hit the fan.”
“You can’t blame me for Herb.”
“Oh can’t I? If you hadn’t fucked up your end, this would never have happened.”
“Margaret, but…”
“Don’t but me you stupid girl. Now get rid of anything that can point to you or us before this whole ships crawling with cops.”
I stood where I was for a few more minutes, waiting to see or rather hear whether anything else would be said and the next thing I saw was the woman who Kim had described, throwing bags overboard.
Could those have been Kim’s?
I raced to the scene just as the last bag left her hands. She had just one more in her hand and I could see that there was hesitation there.
“Don’t you dare!” I shouted and threw myself at her, grabbing her and the small bag all in one.
She struggled, but she was no match. I wrestled the bag away from her and holding her in a half-Nelson from behind, I suggested that she allow me into her cabin to get anything she hadn’t managed to throw overboard.
“That was all of it.” she said.
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth. The only things there now are the girl’s clothes.”
“Well, let’s have those then.” I suggested.
We went into the cabin and I noticed that there were several cases just inside the door and I presume packed. I should have thought more about it, but I was too focussed on Kim and her, sorry, his, predicament.
I was shown into the spare bedroom. There was a fair pile of clothes there, one or two things I recognised from when we had seen Kim before. It must have cost a pretty penny and I was sure that Kim would need a change of clothes even if they WEREN’T the most appropriate.
“Is everything alright Donna?” said a man’s voice from behind.
I spun round just in time to see the Bursar there, or rather his fist, just before it made contact.
The bastard caught me right on the end of my nose and I’d be surprised if he didn’t break it. Broken or not, my eyes ran like a couple of Olympic sprinters and I couldn’t see a thing.
“Just leave them. Now make sure you’ve got you passport, it’s time we weren’t here.” said the Bursar and then it went quiet.
I was left alone in the cabin. It seemed to me that whatever was going on, they had an escape plan. I blinked and dabbed my eyes, everything a blur. I picked up the phone and called our cabin.
“Gil? Yeah, it’s me… Call the Captain… Yeah I know it’s late… I think our quarry is about to jump ship.”
I met Gil and the Captain a little later after dropping the clothes I picked up from Donna's cabin.
“Did we get them?” I asked.
“No, we just saw on the monitors the launch leaving the stern, we weren’t in time to stop them.” said the Captain bleakly.
“How far can they get in the launch?”
Not very far. It has enough fuel aboard to last about a day, but we’re much further than that from any port.”
“What about another ship?”
“I knew you’d ask that. We’ve alerted the coast guard and they are now monitoring the launch on satellite. Wonders of modern technology eh? We can track them with their own SatNav!”
“Shouldn’t be long then.” I said.
“It’s not turned out badly has it?”
“Much better than I thought.”
“Thanks to Kim.” I said and once again, Gil put her arm through mine.
“Appearances?” I asked.
“Not entirely.” she said and smiled. I got butterflies in the stomach and that feeling of going over a hump-back bridge too quickly. Why was it she made me so nervous?
The one where things start to become clear for Kim…
By Nick B
© 2007
Anyhow, it’s put extra demands on Krissikins and for that I’m sorry and profoundly grateful all at the same time. Who says men can’t multitask?
When Kim came round the day after his admission to the infirmary, Dr. Miles Corcoran, the ship’s doctor was waiting and looking to get a few answers.
“You’re having a bit of a time of it aren't you?” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” replied Kim. He did have some colour back in his face and was looking a lot less drawn. “My mouth tastes like a ferret’s been living in it though!”
The doctor handed him some water.
“You said something last time about being given drugs.” he asked. "Do you have any idea what kind of drugs?”
"No sorry, I really don’t know. I know one of them knocked me out pretty much and even when I came round I still only have sketchy memories. I remember feeling sick and being given something to drink, but after that, it all goes blank again. I do know I was given more than one form of ‘medication’ as they put it, but further to that, I can’t say.” said Kim feeling like somehow this was his fault and started to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m not being much help am I?”
“Don’t worry about it, you can’t really be expected to know about these things.”
“Thanks doc.” he said snivelling a little into a napkin that the doctor passed him and feeling calmed by his words. “I can remember getting a couple of shots in the arm, or was it the bum? I don't know, but I do know there were two; at least the first time.”
“But you have no idea what they were?”
“No I don’t, sorry. Nothing, nada, zilch.”
“This is very serious. The only thing I can say is that it’s unlikely that they've given you anything addictive, otherwise you’d be in a much worse state now, but that’s not to say they didn’t give you something potentially nasty.”
“The way I felt yesterday, I knew it wasn’t anything good.”
“Well look, if you do remember, you must let me know. There’s still over a week before we get to the states and I need to know whether or not to arrange anything for when we get there.”
“Arrange? Arrange what?”
“You may need to get checked out by specialists. For your own good you realise. We have no way of knowing what’s hurtling round your system now do we?”
“You think it could be that bad?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not wise to take the chance is it?”
When he first found out about the cruise, it was a joyous thing. He had never been on one and although he thought that it wasn’t for him, he still had that feeling of anticipation, expectation and dreamy images of being out on the sun-kissed deck with one of those exotic drinks with an umbrella in.
The truth had thus far been far weirder than he could have imagined and not at all like those daydreams. Aside from that first day, watching Southampton disappear as the ship set sail down the English Channel towards the Atlantic and of course Lucy, there had been nothing that had given him even the least amount of a thrill.
The explanation to Lucy had been completely upside down. Trying to tell her that he wasn’t really a girl, but a boy when she had seemingly made it plain that she didn’t want a girlfriend was even more confusing… and then her running away to her room like that…
It was an emotional time and the tears didn’t seem to have that cleansing effect that they do sometimes, like when your dog dies, somehow crying makes you feel better. Not much admittedly but it did usually help, this didn’t; it made him feel worse.
Gil was there and put her arms about him. He felt good being held; it seemed to take away all the fears he had and there were plenty of those, but it seemed all too quick to end thanks to the ringing phone.
Gil answered it, spoke briefly to Pete and then hung up, immediately looking at the numbers on the card by the telephone and redialling. She didn’t hang around after that, leaving the cabin in an awful hurry.
Kim needed to square things away with Lucy. His feelings for her went quite a lot deeper than he thought and he felt as though he had cheated her, or lied — perhaps a bit of both. Whatever, he didn’t want to be left alone to contemplate his demons.
“Are you okay?” he said to Lucy, calling from outside her door.
“No.” she replied.
“I meant to tell you. I just…”
“Go away.”
“Please don’t be like that. You have no idea how much it’s hurt me not to tell you. Let me explain.”
The door opened suddenly and standing before him was Lucy, red eyed and tear-stained “This should be good.” she said, beckoning him in.
He wanted to just skim over it lightly, to give her the gist and leave it like that, so that she didn’t see it as a sob-story, but as soon as he started, it escalated into much more. Before he knew what was happening, he was telling her everything; pouring his heart out to her. By the end of his account, he was once again in tears, sat on the bed with Lucy’s arms around him, as she rocked him gently, making soothing noises.
Neither of them heard Pete come back and drop off Kim’s clothes, they were fast asleep by then and because Pete had his mind on other things, he didn’t know that they were cuddled up together on Lucy’s bed.
“Uh?” replied a very sleepy-headed Kim, whose mind was racing as he found himself naked and under the covers he felt sure he fell asleep on top of — fully clothed. Conversely, Lucy didn’t even deign to acknowledge her uncle.
“What are you two doing sleeping together?” he said as he did that “arms-folded-tapping-foot routine”, like an angry parent.
“Wha…?” said Lucy, finally getting round to realising that her uncle was not actually going to go away until he had a satisfactory answer. “What do you mean?”
“All… all… this.” he said wagging his finger at the two of them, who by now were half way sat up, the covers pulled up to their necks. “What will your mother say? I’m supposed to be keeping you out of harms way and… and…”
“And what Uncle Pete? I suppose that it never occurred to you that I am; a) not in harms way in the first place, b) over the age of consent, c) over legal voting age, which means I can please myself and d) nothing happened. So if you don’t mind, I’d like some privacy so I can get up, since I will never get back to sleep now thank you very much and I expect Kim would like to get up too.”
Pete huffed and blew for a few seconds sure that there was something else he should be saying, though his brain and mouth had become suddenly disconnected. His face reddened some more and he stormed out of the cabin, leaving Kim and Lucy to get up.
“I er, I don’t remember getting undressed.” said Kim.
“No well. We fell asleep. I went to spend a penny later and kind of…” she held her hands before her and shrugged.
“You… you mean?”
“Well someone had to. You couldn’t get into bed fully clothed now could you?”
“Well, I…”
“Listen Pete. I know you probably mean well, but she isn’t that little girl you used to take to the park or whatever. She’s a young woman and is entitled to see who she wants to see — on any level.”
“But I…”
“No ‘buts’ Pete, leave them be.” she said firmly. “Besides, we’ve been sharing a bed since the very beginning of this damn cruise.”
“That’s different.”
“I was going to ask how, but it doesn’t matter. Don’t poke your nose in where it’s not wanted, okay?”
“Humph!” muttered Pete, going and shoving a sheaf of paper around the table where their notes were and quietly fuming. Gil just ‘tutted’ and carried on about her business with an almost hidden smirk.
Lucy meanwhile was pottering about the bedroom while Kim stayed firmly under the covers.
“Are you going to get up then?”
“I would but…”
“But what Kim?”
“Well… You know… I’m, um, naked.”
“Yes and who do you think got you that way?” she said and Kim blushed to the roots of his hair. “Now get up and don’t be such a wimp.”
“Wimp?”
Lucy blushed this time and apologised.
“I’m sorry, perhaps that WAS a little below the belt.”
“No. No, it’s not what you said. Well it was, but it’s also what Donna said.” Suddenly, he threw the covers back and leapt out of bed, his modesty disappearing like a small rodent escaping a cat; hopping about as he tried to step into his panties in a hurry before kissing Lucy firmly.
“You’re brilliant!” he exclaimed and then struggled into the rest of his clothes, kissing her soundly on the forehead.
“Pete! Pete! I need to see the doctor. Do you think it’ll be alright to just go on down there?”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’ve just remembered something important. Actually Lucy was the one who jogged my memory, but it might help the doctor to explain what Donna and her cronies were trying to do to me.”
“Can’t this wait till AFTER breakfast?” asked Pete. “My stomach thinks my throat has been cut.”
“I’m just looking forward to getting this all sorted out.” said Kim brightly.
The doctor rose and greeted each of them with a handshake.
“What can I do for you today?” he asked.
“I’ve remembered something about what they gave me.” said Kim.
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“Implants or an implant, doctor. She said it would take about a month to take away my masculinity and that I should be seeing results in about a fortnight. She said that because I was such a wimp anyway, it should help it to work more quickly. I remember too that Dr Weintraub was talking about “the other medicine”.”
Kim seemed satisfied that now the doctor could do something about this, but the doctor’s expression didn’t reinforce that the way he’d hoped.
“Can I be honest with you Kim?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t you be?”
“Well I may be talking out of turn here and I don’t have the equipment or facilities to prove it one way or the other, but it would seem highly unlikely that implants can mean anything other than hormones; given what you’ve said and what has happened to you.”
“Hormones?”
“Yes and I’m afraid that’s something I can do nothing about right now. I suggest you get yourself checked out as soon as you can. Have you noticed any changes?”
“Changes? Not really… Every time I came to at Donna’s I felt sick, but she’d just tell me to drink something and before I knew what was happening, it wasn’t, I was out cold again. Other than that… no, you’ll think this is stupid.”
“What? If we're right there’s a lot changing in your body and possibly your mind at the moment. You’d be surprised.”
“Well, I seem to be getting really emotional lately. The simplest thing seems to be setting me off. I’ve never been one for crying, but I just don’t seem to be able to stop.”
“That would probably be the hormones then. Your body’s adapting to the flood of chemicals, to being more female.”
“No!” said Kim “You mean I’ve got to stay this way?” he asked and as if by magic, the water-works started and tears were rolling down his face.
“Not necessarily, but an elevated emotional state with the propensity to swing from one extreme to the other is a fair indication that your oestrogen levels have been increased dramatically. I don’t suppose you know whether you have been given a testosterone inhibitor as well, do you?”
“No, I don’t.” sniffled Kim. “Does that make a difference?”
“Well, I’m no expert, I’m just a glorified GP, but I understand that testosterone inhibitors allow the oestrogen or female hormones to work unhindered. It’s kind of like castration without removal.”
“Holy SHIT!” said Kim, his hand instinctively going to his crotch, his eyes like serving platters.
“Hmm. Anyway, for the time being, all we can do is wait.”
“Oh God, I’m turning into a girl.” he said morosely, not noticing the looks the others were giving each other as if to say that they weren't sure he wasn’t one anyway.
“Not necessarily. It all depends on how far along things get. Pop your shirt off and we’ll have a look at your chest.”
“What?”
“To see if there’s any development there around the nipples. Puffiness and sensitivity is usually a pretty good indicator.”
“You mean I’m growing breasts?!” he exclaimed, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.
“Possibly. Amongst other things.”
“What other things?”
“Well, there’s usually some loss of fat from the waist as it redistributes itself around your hips and thighs, softening of the skin and often a reduction in the coarseness of facial and body hair. Your own hair will change, but probably not considerably, at least not to begin with and yes you will develop breasts. How large they become is largely dependent upon your mother.”
“This is awful. I’m going to end up with spaniel’s ears.”
“I’m fairly sure she wasn’t always like that.” said Dr. Corcoran, smiling at the image. “Of course, this is all assuming that this is left to continue unabated.”
It was not good news. Sensitivity in the nipples with some knottiness underneath. It explained why he didn’t feel embarrassed getting out of bed this morning since he didn’t have a woody to worry about.
“Um, can this ‘treatment’ affect, er, you know…”
“Pardon?” said Dr. Miles.
“Well, um, the… er, you know.” repeated Kim, nodding in a generally southerly direction and looking pointedly at his fork.
“Ah, erections?”
“Yes.” said Kim looking at his feet and changing colour drastically.
“Possibly. Perhaps they have given you inhibitors. Maybe that was the ‘other’ medicine. I think it would be best if you checked into a hospital as soon as possible. I’ll contact the necessary authorities and have an ambulance waiting when we dock. It sounds a little drastic, but I think it’s for the best. Anyway, try not to think about it for the time being, just try and relax and enjoy the cruise.”
“Enjoy the cruise?” he said with more than a note of incomprehension. “How can I expect to do THAT with all this happening?”
Everyone gave him a pretty wide berth and it was several hours before he was approachable.
“It may not be as bad as you think.” said Lucy.
“How so?”
“Well, you know. It’s like doctor Corcoran was only speculating. They may not have done what you think.”
“Well it’s simple enough. Pete said they’d caught the bloke who gave me the jabs, why don’t they just ask him?”
Lucy looked at Kim then laughed.
“What?”
“How is it that we have several highly trained professionals on board this thing and it takes a teenager to show them the ropes?”
Next thing, both Lucy and Kim were laughing.
Pete and Gil spent the better part of the day with Doctor Weintraub and Doctor Corcoran trying to ascertain just what they had done to Kim, but Weintraub was proving to be a tough nut to crack.
The final frontier...
By Nick B
© 2008
Hopefully now, these poor folk can stop trundling round and round in circles and can finally put their feet on dry land. It's been entirely too long coming and the retail outlets on board ran out of Sea-sickness tablets around Christmas, so well, without further ado...
I have looked at my situation and precious little else for over two weeks and now, as we near New York, I can’t help feeling that I could have or should have done something different. I never wanted to be a girl in the first place and having lived my life as one for the better part of three weeks, I can honestly say, I’m not sure how I’m going to find going home.
Doctor Corcoran keeps telling me not to worry about it, but I KNOW things are happening inside me. I KNOW things are changing and as much as he is telling me not to worry, in just over under three weeks, my nipples have got bigger and according to Lucy, I have small breasts too, though to be fair, she may just be winding me up.
I rather thought that the doctor might have been a little more sympathetic, but instead, he has proved to be just like every other doctor and if not downright dismissive then just lacking in a decent bedside manner. He’s supposedly giving me something to keep the symptoms at bay, but I can’t say they’re having that good an effect, or if they are, God alone knows what this would be like. I wouldn’t mind, but every other day, it’s the same thing. I tell him the morning sickness and nausea are no better and he tells me not to worry about it. You try that with your head stuffed down the lavatory.
“It’s down to the dosage of hormones, he said. It’s classed as an overdose.”
“Can you overdose on hormones then?” asked Lucy as we walked back along the scrubbed deck.
“Apparently so.” I said, gingerly feeling the spot through my skirt where doctor Corcoran had given me another shot to help reduce the side effects of the hormones. “It’s what’s messing my head up.” I could feel the water works coming on again.
“What’s wrong?”
“See, I don’t even have to do anything and off I go. It's just ridiculous.”
Lucy put her arm about my shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”
I felt better, but at the same time, worse. I didn’t want a big sister. I wanted her to love me — romantically, not platonically.
Now I know nothing about sex change issues, but I do know that people have done it–I’ve seen Jerry Springer after all, but how long does it take to change from one sex to the other? I would have thought just a little longer than three weeks.
I know about the changes to the physical side, but I didn’t know I would feel changes in my head too. I lie in bed (or rather, on the sofa) going over the day and cringe at what I have said to Lucy or to others that we’ve met. It’s made me understand how it is that no-one has suspected that Kim is not a girl’s name in my case. I mean I'd take me for a girl if I didn't know me.
Worst of all, I have enjoyed it. Well, mostly.
Of course, Lucy is half the reason I am finding it easier than I expected to take all this, but I’m unsure about how she feels. Until yesterday at any rate. I think she let EVERYONE know how she felt then.
It all started in the breakfast bar.
Somehow, we got parted and by “we” I mean all of us. Pete and Gil were up front in the queue and about three people behind was Lucy, with me bringing up the rear about three behind Lucy–-metaphorically speaking since there were people behind me too.
I was in a world of my own and was I suppose, dawdling, but as the queue moved forward, I heard someone behind me.
“Hey isn’t that the girl you were dancing with?”
“Dunno, it was dark–-hang on.”
The next thing I knew was this hand on my bum, giving it a good squeeze.
“OY!” I yelled, but the hand didn’t move, continuing as it did, to stay on my rear as I spun round to come face to face with some pimply, smiling Herbert from the disco a couple of weeks ago. “Do you mind?”
“What’s up darlin’?” he asked, sliding his hand up from my bum to my waist until he almost had his arm round me. “Weren’t like this in the disco were you? Couldn’t keep yer hands to yourself could you?”
“That’s not true and you know it. Now GET OFF!” I said, though I don’t think he was taking much notice. Before I knew what was happening, Lucy was there, a look of thunder on her face.
“You heard her. Hands off.”
“Ooooh a feisty one. I like a bit of gumption in a woman.” he said looking as though he had no intentions of removing his grubby mauler.
“Gumption this!” she said and I almost had sympathetic tears coming from my eyes as down he went, her knee finding its target–-right in the fork.
She put her arm around me protectively and drew me away while the Neanderthal, still on his knees tried to draw breath and mumble something about “‘effin’ lezzies” as two uniformed crew made their way purposefully over to him and his mate.
Up until that moment, many of my reservations were centred round Lucy, of whom I have grown very fond. No, let’s face facts–its love. It’s not just a mere liking or even an infatuation, but full blown love. My heart skips a beat when she’s near me and when she looks at me, I can’t help it; I go all dreamy, cow-eyed and stuff. It’s weird and most unlike me. In fact, that’s not me at all. Now of course, that’s increased tenfold.
See that’s one of the things I don’t like about this. I’m not particularly fond of the cross-dressing, but even less fond of the change in my personality. I get weepy at the least provocation and I’m starting to think about how I’m dressed, does my bum look big in this skirt and all the while, my inner male is screaming “get me out of here!”
Of course, having Lucy near at times like those is quite the comfort. She went ballistic when she found out I was a boy and no amount of explaining seemed to mollify her, although the episode in the breakfast bar kind of straightened that out.
I wonder whether she has come to terms with it or perhaps there’s something else, but I’m finding this change in her behaviour towards me odd, as when at first she wasn’t prepared to explore the idea of a girlfriend and I mean G~I~R~L~F~R~I~E~N~D. It’s silly really. I think she thinks I was pulling the wool over her eyes, when all it was, was a difficulty in finding the right time to tell her something I wasn’t sure she should know in the first place. Adding insult to injury, we slept — and I do stress SLEPT — together that particular night, which was a comfort, but since then I have been relegated to the sofa in the main cabin.
The sofa means it’s a straight line to the loo and frankly I think that’s a good thing at the moment. These hormones are causing me to suffer what pregnant ladies call “morning sickness”. Trouble is it’s not just the mornings. If I’m not being sick, I’m feeling sick and if it’s neither of the former, then I just want to go to sleep.
There are just two days to get myself together for docking at New York and whilst Pete and Gil have assured me that there’s nothing to worry about, I can’t help being scared at having to face the big, wide world as Kim… the girl.
Honestly, it’s a nightmare and why does everyone think there’s nothing to worry about when they’re not the ones dressing as a girl when they should be a man are they?
Lucy has been trying desperately to console me, but somehow, I can’t seem to get it through my head that I’m under her uncle and his partner-in-crime-prevention’s guard and therefore, it’s going to be alright.
They’re getting nowhere with Doctor Weintraub, so how do they know it’s not all going to turn to rat-shit? I guess it’s because they think the people actually pulling the strings are no longer on this tub, which I suppose is fair comment. I DO feel a lot safer now that Donna’s gone, but really I just want to go home and forget the majority of this happened. Trouble is, I can’t see it being that simple. Then again, I suppose I AM being particularly pessimistic.
I don’t think it’s without good reason however.
Here I am trying to enjoy my holiday, won through a competition–which should make me happy, but instead, I have been fed female hormones, had my clothing thrown overboard and found myself forced to wear girl’s clothes, act like a girl, live like a girl and now I have to face getting off this oversized bath-tub into a foreign country, as I am. Apparently, I have no choice in the matter. As for getting off the plane in England–that’s when the problems really start.
“It’ll be alright, Kim.”
“I know, but I can’t just switch off the fear. I don’t know what I’m going to be walking into and that’s the bit that scares me.”
“That’s fair.”
Later that evening, I was standing out on the deck as the moon rose and way off in the distance was America. The deep blue of the sea glinted silver as the clam waters crested in tiny waves. Lucy joined me as I leant on my elbows looking out across the vast ocean.
“How you doing? You’re going to be alright. Pete, Gil and I will make sure of that.”
Thanks Lucy. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I know I didn’t do some things right, but under the circumstances, I had no experience of how to react to all this.”
“I think you’ve done really well. I’m just as guilty as you for messing up.” She squeezed my hand and for a moment I really DID feel safe again. “Shall we go back to the cabin?”
“You go on, I’ll be back shortly.”
It didn’t happen that way.
I remember a sharp pain on the back of my head and then nothing . . .
“Standing outside looking over the railings.” replied Lucy.
“Well, she needs to be in here packing her stuff away.”
“You’re doing it again, Pete.” said Gil.
“Doing what?” asked Pete, holding his hands out.
“You called Kim “she”.”
“So?” Gil raised an eyebrow and Pete blushed to the roots of his hair. “Shit. I keep forgetting. Would you go and grab her, I mean him please, Lucy?”
Lucy went outside, but came back very quickly indeed. “He’s not there.”
“Well, where is he?”
“I don’t know. He said he was going to follow me back in a few minutes. That’s–Oh my G–that was an hour ago.”
The three stood in something akin to suspended animation. Had he thrown himself overboard, fed up with the prospect of having to deal with the after-effects of the hormones, the stigma of having to return to England through America dressed as a girl?
The phone rang in the cabin and Lucy, Pete and Gil all jumped, bringing them back into the present and their three worried faces turned and looked at it expectantly.
“Is someone going to answer that?” Asked Gil, who was admittedly, furthest from the desk where it was placed. Pete almost threw himself at it.
“Hello? Yes… What??! Okay, we’ll be there in a minute.” He put the phone down, his face ashen. “Kim’s been attacked by someone. He was found on the deck, unconscious. He’s in the infirmary.”
All three rushed to the infirmary and were pretty well puffed out on arrival.
“Doctor Corcoran, is he alright?” asked Lucy breathlessly.
The doctor smiled benignly. “He’s had quite a nasty blow to the back of his head, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. To be on the safe side, there’ll be an ambulance at the dock waiting when we arrive. For now, I think it’s best he stay here, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry to hear about that young man.” he said.
“Yes, he doesn’t seem to have had a very pleasant time of it. I understand that an ambulance has been arranged, so he should be alright.” replied Pete
“I’ll make certain of it. What about that old doctor?”
“That’s down to the authorities on this side of the pond now. Hopefully, there will be no problem in extradition, but you know as well as I do, it’s down to the governments to decide now.”
“Shame. I thought you were getting somewhere.”
“Only geographically, more’s the pity.”
“They’re going to take you off separate to the passengers. There’s apparently going to be an ambulance waiting. I know it sounds corny, but did you see your attacker?”
“Not a chance. I didn’t even get a chance to say “OW!””
“That’s what I thought. Still, won’t be long and you’ll be back home and you can put all that behind you, can’t you?”
“I hope so, Pete. I really hope so.”
“Why don’t you go with Kim? I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.” She was off like a greyhound after the stuffed hare.
“Do you think they’ll let her aboard the ambulance? She’s not family.”
“She’s as good as now. Anyway, it’ll take her mind off things. If she has to come back, she has to come back.”
“Does it upset you that we didn’t apprehend the culprits?”
“Not really. We did stick a bomb up their collective backsides though didn’t we?”
“Don’t worry,” said Gil. “We’ll be able to see him soon.”
They were finishing some formalities before being able to leave the dock when a man in a white crew uniform ran to them.
“Peter Thomas?” he called. Pete swung round and regarded the crewman as he pounded across the tarmac-covered dock.
“I am he.”
“I just wanted to tell you the ambulance is here.”
“Ambulance? The ambulance has gone. It went about ten minutes ago.”
“No sir. The ambulance is waiting at the security gate as we speak, sir.”
“This is not right at all.” said Pete and all four of them high-tailed it across to security whereupon, the fact that the ambulance was there, ready and waiting was all too apparent.
“This is the second, right?” Pete asked of the security guards.
“Yes, we let the other one out about fifteen minutes ago.”
“SHIT!” exclaimed Pete, reddening.
“What’s the matter?” asked the security guard.
“I have a feeling that the ambulance that took our young friend may not have been what it seemed. Now we have no way of knowing.”
“Ah, now that’s where you’d be wrong sir.” said the guard, beaming and produced a clip-board. On it, the last entry was the licence plate of the ambulance that had previously been through.
“What’s going on?” asked the officer.
“We think that an ambulance took a friend of ours, but we don’t think the ambulance or people inside were genuine.” said Pete.
“And you would be?”
“I’m Peter Thomas an agent with the British Department of the Interior and this is my associate Ms Gil Parker.”
“Is that like a spy or something?” the officer asked, his eyes wide.
“Something like that, yes.”
“Wow! A real live James Bond, eh?”
“Look, we’re wasting time. We believe our friend a Mr. Kim Heasman, has been abducted. There has been an investigation on the Paradise in order to uncover a ring that may involve people being abducted and sold in this country or through this country. We believe that Kim may have been taken in that capacity. We need the occupants of the ambulance to be apprehended in the pursuit of this investigation.”
“Why didn’t you say?” said the officer and strolled back his cruiser and got on the radio.
Moments later he was back. “If it’s out there, we’ll locate it.” said the officer.
“Oh it’s out there alright.”
“Are you going to tell him?” asked Gil.
“Tell him what?”
“That you are neither licensed to kill or a secret agent?”
“Nah. It’d spoil his day.”
They hadn’t been waiting long, when two men in dark suits, dark glasses and the presence of people who don’t like to be messed with, walked in. They took one look at Pete, Gil and Lucy and knew instantly that these were the people they needed to speak to.
“Agent Thomas, Agent Parker? I’m agent Smith and this is agent Jones.”
“You’re kidding right?” asked Gil, incredulously.
“No ma-am. We don’t do humour. Who’s this?” said Smith looking directly at Lucy.
“This is my niece. She was part of the cover on the trip over.” said Pete.
“Please to meet you, Miss. Now if you’d like to come with us.”
They were taken further into the building and to an office. A secretary was sent for some light refreshments and the English trio was made comfortable.
“It’s not everyday we get to work with British agents.” said special Agent Bill Redmond, who entered the office minutes after Pete, Gil and Lucy. “Welcome to the U.S of A.”
“Thank you sir.” said Pete. “I only wish it were under less serious circumstances.”
“Maybe another time.”
“They’re very colourful here aren’t they?” whispered Gil.
It was an arduous wait before any news came forth, but when it did, all three were up and ready to go.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.” said Bill. “You’re civilians in our country and we don’t want you injured.”
The waiting went from plain arduous to positively unbearable as the three sat in the office with an agent who neither smiled nor spoke and certainly didn’t try and put the trio’s collective minds at rest and much to both Lucy and Gil’s disgust, Pete had taken to pacing.
“For God’s sake, sit DOWN Pete. Nothing’s happening right now and when it does, they’ll tell us.”
Two hours later, the news came in that they had apprehended two people and rescued a third from an ambulance that crashed in upstate New York. They knew it was the people they were after as there seemed to be some confusion about the patient.
“She won’t back down, keeps telling us she’s a he . . .”
“That’s our Kim!” said Gil.”
“We wanted you to know who the mastermind was.” said Bill Redmond and showed them to an interview room where sitting at the table in the customary orange jumpsuit, was none other than Miles Corcoran. Further down the corridor, equally nicely dressed for the occasion, sat Donna and in a third room, Margaret. Both had apparently been picked up after trying to leave the docks after coming in on a trawler.
It wasn’t all good news however.
It transpires that Corcoran was a research biologist and had not been feeding Kim with something to help calm the effects of the hormones, but had actually been injecting him with something that would speed up the transition.
The drug was in its test phase and although the doctors at the hospital had managed the get the majority of the implants out, hadn’t removed them all and had had to give Kim the bad news as regards his condition.
“You’re healthy, but the effects of the shots you’ve been being given have had rather more of an effect than we would normally be accustomed to at such an early stage. Some things like your shape and the breast development will probably never go away entirely. We would suggest that you continue as you are for the next couple of months, but obviously without the shots the doctor was giving you and take it from there. Very regular check ups are desirable to ascertain the ongoing effects. ”
The upshot was that Kim was going to have to stay feminine-looking for at least the next two months, perhaps longer.
“How do you feel?” asked Lucy.
“Pissed off. I at least can go back to wearing my own clothes, but then the issue will be looking like a girl in men’s clothes.”
“It could be worse.”
“How?”
Lucy couldn’t answer that one.
As she was about to leave, something struck her.
"If it's any consolation, Kim,"
"What's that?"
"I love you just the way you are."
Well that depends upon how you look at it.
Doctor Corcoran is now serving time for kidnap amongst other things and probably won’t see the outside world for at least twenty-five years probably more, as his connections have led police in New York and other states to believe that he was much more deeply involved than they first thought. They don’t seem to mind the idea of adding a few more years onto his sentence as the information comes to light.
As for Donna and Margaret, well their failing dating agency was the British connection.
They are presently awaiting extradition along with Herb Weintraub. It was Weintraub who put the idea into Donna and Margaret’s heads and helped out with some of the less palatable jobs. Their sentences have still to be decided.
So for them, no it didn’t at all.
Just one final thing.
Pete received this about four months after their return from the States . . .
Dear Pete and Gil,
I hope this finds you well and I can’t thank you enough for what you two did for me on that horrible cruise. The help you arranged has been invaluable and I am putting it to good use, with some help.
I’m not a bit disappointed as it turns out, I would just liked to have made my own mind up, but suffice it to say, Kim the boy is nowhere to be seen and I feel a lot better for it. I’m learning and still have a lot to learn, but Lucy is helping there.
Yes, we’re still together, learning how to get on as a couple and I know who wears the trousers in this relationship!
Will I go the whole hog and have the op? I have the finances to do it now (thanks again), but I’m not sure. No-one questions that I’m not a girl and since the hormones stopped, I do have some use of–well, I’m not sure Lucy would be too pleased if I lost certain parts, let’s put it that way.
Seriously, I don’t know. For the time being, getting used to being a girl in the real world is hard enough, but I’m in no rush.
Thanks again,
Kim & Lucy.
PS
Stop being a dick and make an honest woman out of Gil. You know you want to.
Set in the early eighties when Visage, Human League and Duran Duran were top of the tree. Paul was just getting to grips with his growing up and coming to terms with certain differences...
FYI - Thanks to Kristina L S for all her help. This story has been written in UK English since I'm not too hot with Americanisms, so I have chosen to stick to what I know...
Chapter 1
Damned don't cry
I was not a big kid, in fact I was probably only about the same size as a medium-sized girl; about five-six by the age of sixteen. My body was still smooth and slender with no muscular definition whatsoever. I hadn’t much in the way of body hair (or body to put it on really) and my face was still baby-smooth. By this age, I would have expected to have something — even if it was just the obligatory dead caterpillar on my top lip.
It didn’t seem that long ago that I was the same as everyone else, but in the blink of an eye, my school friends had sprouted hair all over the place, grown up or grown outwards or both and some of them had even started shaving. I meanwhile felt as though I’d been nailed to the spot not having changed at all that I could see. I hadn’t grown as much as an inch in height in over eighteen months.
The others had noticed these things too and this is where my troubles really began…
“Hey look, it’s girly Turner” called Jeremy Fuller, one of the school bullies as I entered through the school gates. “Wonder if he’s flush today.”
Fuller’s friend Greg Bridger grabbed me and without a word, Fuller pushed his hands into my pockets and swiftly divested me of my lunch money and then as a parting “Thank you”, punched me in the stomach, leaving me winded and penniless.
“You’d better bring some more tomorrow.” said Fuller tossing the coins in the palm of his hand. “Oh and you’d better not say anything or we’ll have to rip up your homework too.” They walked away laughing, leaving me to gather myself together and get to registration.
This hurt more than just physically, since two years previously I was at least as big as Fuller and Bridger was just the fat kid. Now, Bridger more closely resembled a brick shithouse and Fuller stood head and shoulders taller than me.
I on the other hand, was barely keeping up with the girls except where the hair on my head was concerned. Unlike the other boys, this was the only part of me that knew how to grow and was now shoulder-length. It wasn’t a fashion statement or anything, although I did like it long. It just never got cut.
No matter what I did to avoid them, Fuller and Bridger seemed to find me before lunch time and for the next two weeks, I didn’t eat at school.
The next week, I tried a change of tack and bought snacks on the way in the mornings.
“Where’s our money you little poof?” said Fuller Monday morning.
“I haven’t got any.” This time it was the truth, but not taking my word for it, Bridger once again acted as a human crusher and held me in place while Fuller went about the search.
“Where is it?” they asked.
“I told you. I haven’t any.” I assured and before I knew what was happening, my exercise books were out of my bag, taken along with my biscuits and crisps and spread across the road.
I got a good kicking, though I didn’t think it was that GOOD. I could barely walk afterwards. I STILL lost my lunch and what was more, my homework was ruined. It happened again the next day and the day after, but then it came to the attention of the school and boy did I get into trouble. This was mostly because I wouldn’t tell them who had done it as I was afraid of what the repercussions would be.
The teaching staff wondered why the hell I was trying to protect people who were causing trouble, but then, they wouldn’t admit that bullying was a problem or that keeping my gob shut was in fact protecting ME and their protection was actually only a by-product.
Mum just told me to stand up for myself, but I really don’t think she fully understood the severity of the situation.
“Bullies,” she said sagaciously. “Are only strong, because they make you think they are.”
“Believe me mum,” I said. “Bridger and Fuller are strong alright and bigger than me too.”
“Paul, Paul, Paul. It’s not the size of the man in the fight, but the size of the fight in the man.” said mum as if that answered all my questions and solved all my problems.
At a loss for anything better to do, I tried fighting back, but that just made the beatings worse and the expression “if at first you don’t succeed…” didn’t work either (I wondered just who the hell thinks up all this blather?), it just made bashing me more challenging and I’m sure, more fun for them.
The “help” I was getting was probably alright in theory but it fell down somewhere short of practice. I decided to try the “running” technique. It is here that we can examine the formula of “He who fights, but runs away, lives to fight another day”. In my case, it’s more along the lines of “He who fights, but runs away, gets to be able to run” so this was an improvement.
I had little going for me at that time as the few friends I had, were giving me a wide berth so as not to get beaten up by association, which left me well and truly on my own.
Steve Strange was busy singing about how the damned don’t cry, a sentiment I was finding very hard to agree with. I felt that I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t, whether I cried or not, made very little difference.
“If that’s the way it’s going to be, then so be it” I thought. “Fuck the lot of them.”
Stool pigeon
Games lessons got to be a pain - literally. For the guys who were developing as normal, their build and stature made them nearly twice my size on average and pounding me for ‘the good of the game’ became their primary concern. Of course if I complained, I was a wimp and the poundings increased, so I kept my mouth shut and instead, it was seen that I was getting used to it and the poundings increased.
Either way I looked at it, I would limp away from whatever sport was being played (even the non-contact ones), feeling as though I needed to rearrange my features and would still get it in the neck by Mr Georgeson, the teacher, for not trying hard enough. I couldn’t win and games lessons became something I dreaded.
Mr. Georgeson the teacher referred to what I was getting from the other boys as ‘sporting camaraderie’ and when it extended to the changing room, I started to get very upset very quickly.
Tired and sore after one particular session, I was sure my ankle had been damaged when I was tackled during the rugby game by one of the bigger boys. While I was on the floor, another had ground the heel of his boot into it. I limped quite badly, which angered Mr Georgeson and he spent the rest of the game shouting at me to get a move on. Mercifully, the game ended shortly after that.
Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as I changed I found I was hobbling more noticeably. I got shoved and my ankle gave way. Sent flying I hit the floor in a ‘belly-flop’ with a resounding ‘slap!’ I gasped and held my right ankle. God it hurt, and the verbal abuse that accompanied it, hurt almost as much.
“Get out of my way short-arse.” said Fuller with a sneer. “Christ, I don’t know why they let a puny little fart like you in here with us seniors.” I tried to get up, but I couldn’t put any pressure on my right leg, which left me sprawled on the floor.
“I mean shit, look at you, bloody wimp. Do you shave your legs?” Bridger pulled away my towel, exposing my apparently hairless body.
“Hey look, he even shaves round his cock too and under his arms. Just like the girl he is.” said Greg
“Aw look, the little girl’s crying.” added Fuller. The truth was, there were hairs on my legs, but not like the fuse-wire he had on his, a fact that seemed to go unnoticed.
The laughter that went round the changing room hurt more than landing badly on the floor had and nearly as much as my ankle was now hurting. The boys were jeering and pointing their fingers as I sat on the floor with tears running down my face.
Mr Georgeson entered at that moment.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Get dressed all of you. Fuller, Bridger, get away from there.” I was in plain view when Fuller and Bridger moved and Mr Georgeson looked across at me as I sat, rocking gently, holding my ankle with tears still running down my face.
“Turner! I might have known you’d be the cause of this. My office NOW! And stop that stupid snivelling.” With that he turned and left the changing room. I hauled myself up onto the bench below my clothes and tried to pull myself together. It was just like home, I was the stool pigeon, taking the flack for whatever happened, regardless of whether I was at fault or not.
The other boys in the room were almost silent. I could see out of the corner of my eye that some of the lads knew something major was wrong, but Fuller was not someone you messed with. He had no business on my side of the changing room anyway (neither did Bridger) and whilst I was sure that they wanted to at least check me out and make sure I was okay, they wouldn’t move until he and his band of merry dickheads had gone, but they were still laughing about me at that point.
I managed to get my shirt and jumper on, but was finding it really difficult to get my underwear on thanks to the blinding pain I was experiencing from my swollen ankle, my right sock being a definite no-no. I was pulling up my trousers when Mr Georgeson came back in. What small amount of talking was going on at the time, ceased immediately the guys knew it was Georgeson that had opened the door.
“Turner! I thought I told you to come to my office?”
“I’m dressing. I didn’t think exposing myself in the corridor would be acceptable, sir.” I said trying to hide the fact that the throb that was now almost constant was actually taking my breath away. I was silently pleased to hear that my retort had met with the approval of some of the other students.
“I didn’t tell you to dress. I told you to get your puny little arse into my office.” This got a few snorts and chuckles from Fuller’s side of the changing room.
“I don’t think I can sir. I think I’ve my ankle’s broken.”
“Don’t be so stupid, Turner.” he said and strode round the racks in the centre of the room, grabbed me by the ear, hauled me to my feet and dragged me across the changing room floor.
I didn’t have my trousers on properly at the time and I tripped, falling back onto the floor.
“Get up!” Georgeson shouted and bent down, grabbing me by my upper left arm and hauling me out into the corridor. I was trying to pull up my trousers with my free hand, when I suddenly howled in pain. My ankle got knocked against the sprung door to the changing rooms as it returned to its closed position and it sent the most awful pain straight up my leg.
“Stop that noise!” he growled. “Or I’ll give you something to moan about.”
He didn’t let go until he’d slammed me onto a chair inside the doorway of his office. I just sat there and looked at the now tennis-ball sized swelling that was once my ankle.
He sat down and did that ignoring thing for several minutes before he looked up. I was tearstained and gasping every so often as pain would shoot up my leg.
“You disgust me.” he said. “You’re about as much use as…” He shook his head and returned his gaze to the paper in front of him.
“Did you know you’re the bottom of the list when it comes to sports activities? You’ve made absolutely no effort whatsoever.”
“But sir…” I began. I didn’t care that I was bottom of the list, but to say I didn’t make the effort was unfair and well, completely untrue.
“Shut up. I’m sending you to the headmaster’s office. I’ll be along shortly when I’ve got the other boys out of the changing rooms. Now get out of my sight.”
I got up and turned, put my right leg down and a bright light flashed across my field of vision as a bolt of pain shot up my leg and I went down like a sack of shit.
The next thing I knew was I was lying on a bed. I stared at the ceiling trying to get my head round what had happened and it all started coming back to me. I could feel the pain in my ankle, but now it felt different, kind of numb, but there nonetheless.
I looked down the bed and saw that my ankle had been wrapped and I could hear voices from the small ante room.
“You bloody idiot Jeff. Didn’t you even look to see what he was talking about?” asked the headmaster.
“I thought he was just moaning as usual.” replied Georgeson.
“I’m disappointed. I spoke to some of the boys and they’ve all told me the same thing; that you manhandled young Turner from the changing room and shouted at him for not keeping up. Is this true?”
“He was being obstinate.” said Georgeson defensively.
“He couldn’t walk you imbecile. You saw his ankle. That’s not being obstinate. I can’t help you with this one, you’ve gone too far.” I heard the door close and the room next door went once again quiet.
Anyway, I was taken to hospital for x-rays and all sorts of other tests and apart from severe bruising that they said was consistent with my ankle being crushed under someone’s boot, I’d be alright, although they did say that it could take some time before I was back to full fitness.
I didn’t need an excuse now to get out of games. I couldn’t do them anyway and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Mum was concerned and told me off for being careless, but then changed her tune, looking suitably embarrassed when she was told what had happened. Why she should have thought that everything that happened was automatically my fault I don’t know. I guess I just accepted it with a cynical edge, having had her take that viewpoint for so long.
Fortunately, Jeremy Fuller’s taunting got kind of washed away when what happened came out into the open. It was odd how many of the boys came forward after what happened to me and parents were lining up to cut one part or another of Jeff Georgeson’s anatomy off with a blunt knife.
Sadly, my mum’s opinion about how things are automatically my fault, soon returned to normal, but hey, I could handle that. I just didn’t tell her stuff, it was that simple.
I got a new found respect from some of the others after it was made known that the ‘accident’ that caused my ankle injury was “not sporting at all”. The fact that I couldn’t or rather wouldn’t tell who had actually crushed my ankle, when I knew perfectly well who it was, seemed to get me brownie points and the picking on me subsided somewhat.
Walking on sunshine?
I was given free periods for those lessons that would normally have been for games “until I felt fit enough”, so that was good. I would have looked a bit silly trying to play soccer or rugby on crutches anyway, so for a while at least, I wasn’t exactly ‘walking on sunshine’, but hobbling anyway!
Free periods weren’t what they sounded like. I mean I couldn’t go off school premises, or just do my own thing either; I had to make use of them. It was more like ‘get-on-with-homework-and-no-talking-periods’, but this is where I met Amanda or Mandy.
I’d been in the classroom designated for this for about three weeks when she turned up. I had lost the crutches by then and my ankle was just bandaged. What was even better was the fact that I got to wear trainers, which were infinitely more comfortable than the shoes I would have worn. Anyway, Mandy was not one of the spectacularly pretty girls, quite plain actually, but I became aware of her stares quite soon after she arrived. I don’t think she knew I knew what she was doing, but I did. I just didn’t know why.
She approached me, which was cool as far as I was concerned, because I had absolutely no experience with girls and wouldn’t have known where to start. I had had a crush on one girl, Elaine, who was one of those ‘pretty’ girls, well out of my league, but if I was anywhere near her, I lost the power of speech. It was just lucky I suppose that she wasn’t near me very often. As with Elaine, all I knew about what was happening with Mandy was that I felt uncomfortable.
She came across to my table and the feeling of discomfort rose.
“It’s Paul isn’t it?” she asked and I just nodded, probably looking a little vacant actually as I twirled a lock of hair in my fingers, but for Christ’s sake, I had no idea what she was going to do or say and since most of my experiences seemed to involve getting pounded on or ridiculed, I was on guard; bayonet at the ready.
“Um... Hi.” I said, edging backwards and making ready to run or hastily limp for it.
“Amanda Jenkins! Go and sit back down.” said Mr Fredricks, a miserable Maths teacher, with all the ‘teacher/pupil’ skills of an alligator with toothache. He had what he termed as the misfortune to be assigned to supervise us during the first period of the lesson.
“I was just getting a rubber, sir.” she said and he tutted, muttering something about having her own stationery, especially an eraser and not wandering around pinching everyone else’s. Unfortunately for him, Mandy’s hearing was spot on.
“I don’t want everyone else’s, sir, nor was I ‘pinching’. I just borrowed this one.” she said, holding mine up for him to see, then looked at me and rolled her eyes.
“Well now you’ve got it you’d better sit back down.”
That didn’t work for long as after she’d finished rubbing out the error, she then needed to give it back.
“You again?” asked Mr Fredricks, sighing and looking at her over to top of his glasses, his fingers steepled before him on the desk.
“I’m just returning the rubber, sir.” she said, that look of dumb insolence returning to her otherwise plain and open face. She was a feisty one and I couldn’t help admiring her ballsy attitude.
“Well to save you getting it again, as I’m sure you’ll have to before this period is through, move your belongings to er…” he struggled for my name, but I wasn’t going to supply it. “...HIS table. Come on, don’t take all day.” he added, waving his hand in my general direction.
“Here, sir?”
“Yes there! Now no talking.” he barked, lowering his head to whatever he was doing and muttering something along the lines of “Bloody kids!” but I can’t be sure.
We sat in silence until the bell for the end of the first period rang. The games lesson was a double period — one hour and as Mr Fredricks left, he barked out his no talking order as the door closed behind him.
“You’re that kid aren’t you?” Mandy asked, springing back to her normal animated self.
“I’m certainly one of them I suppose; only I prefer the term young man.”
“I know that, silly. I mean are you the ‘young man’ Jeremy Fuller was picking on in the changing room.”
Ah, so that’s where this was going. I shook my head and went back to the rigours of trying to work out what was so important about learning fractions and twirling that lock of hair again.
“I guess.” I said without looking up.
“He’s such an asshole.” I looked at her, trying to read where the ‘friendly’ conversation was going to turn into something else.
“I mean it’s not your fault you’re smaller or prettier than them, is it?” she said.
“Thank you for pointing that out.” I said sarcastically, mortified by the ‘prettier’ part in her statement. I hope she meant better-looking, but well, that’s not what she said and I couldn’t help being cut to the quick by her remark.
“Well it’s not is it?” she asked, apparently oblivious to the effect she was having.
“Look, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I really don’t want to talk about it.” I said, trying to head any further faux pas off at the pass.
“I was just saying.” she said as if I was being overly sensitive about being called small and pretty.
I got up to move to another table.
“Where are you going?”
“To sit elsewhere. I know you mean well, but just leave me alone.” My movement coincided with the arrival of Miss Clarke the home economics teacher.
“Sit down!” she commanded. “You’re not here to wander around.” I sat back down with a thump.
We sat in silence again and I tried concentrating on fractions. I knew I had less than half of the lesson left to get these, was only a quarter of the way through the problems and about a third of them just looked vulgar.
The silence didn’t last for long this time as not only was Miss Clarke the home economics teacher, but was also a year tutor for the year below me and as such, she was often on call. She’d only been sat at her table for a few minutes when she had to leave.
“I’m going to have to leave you lot on your own and I don’t want to hear anything about you talking, waking around or any other form of misbehaving. Is that clear?” We all looked at her, but said nothing.
“I said, IS THAT CLEAR?” she barked.
“Yes Miss Clarke.” we intoned in unison.
“Good.” she said, turning on her heels and disappearing.
Of course, as soon as she’d left the room, Mandy became once again reanimated and was probing.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” she said, I expect trying to make me feel better.
“You didn’t.” I answered not looking up, that strand of hair wrapped again around my finger.
“You seem pretty upset now.”
“Look Amanda…”
“It’s Mandy.”
“Alright. Look Mandy, I really don’t know you and I don’t feel comfortable with talking to you about this, alright?”
“You’ve got to talk to someone.”
“Can’t you take a hint?” I said, looking at her and trying to convey a look of exasperation. “I — DON’T — WANT — TO — TALK — ABOUT — IT!”
“Oooooh!” she said, sitting back, her eyebrows raised and her eyes wide. “No need to get your knickers in a twist.”
“Just piss off will you?” I said shaking my head and doing my level best to ignore her. It went quiet after that.
I suspect you’ve already guessed by the way I spoke to the only girl who had shown any interest in me for any reason, that I haven’t had much experience in that department and you’d be right. About the only ‘experience’ I did have was with Sally Hurst two years ago. We lasted about a week and never went anywhere outside of school together.
Like I said, it was only a week before I was unceremoniously ‘chucked’ and I later found out that she was only with me because of a dare. The grown-up feeling I got being part of a ‘couple’, disappeared about a millisecond after she did the chucking bit.
We didn’t kiss, well, we did, once and then it was the quickest of pecks behind the bike sheds when we thought that no-one was looking. Not exactly the most auspicious of beginnings.
Since then, even having passed my sixteenth birthday and had therefore reached and passed the age of consent, there had been no girls in my life and I was fast beginning to question the validity of the boy/girl relationship thing. I was confused at being legally allowed to bonk and yet I knew nothing about foreplay, intercourse or even ‘French’ kissing.
Mandy was the first girl since Sally and she said I was cute. I think that was the best she could come up with, since the word ‘pretty’ upset me, but I’m not sure that ‘cute’ was any better. To this day, I still haven’t found out what cute really means when a girl uses it to describe a boy/bloke/man, but I’ve since decided that it means, you’re nice, but don’t try getting into my knickers. Not that at that time I’d have known what to do if I did!
Anyway, back to the present and I was heading out of school the afternoon after meeting Mandy, when who should be waiting for me?
Yeah, you guessed it; Mandy (or did you cheat and read ahead?).
She certainly was a tough nut this one and I think I underestimated her when I called her feisty. I think the word ‘feisty’ was coined as a mild alternative to ‘Mandy’. I obviously wasn’t going to avoid her this time.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“Well I know you can. It’s stopping you that’s the hard part.” I said, mentally chalking one up for my side. She wasn’t happy with my remark.
“You don’t have to be like that.” she said. “I just wanted to know from your point of view what happened. Hell, I know how hard it can be, but if you’re going to be like that…” I immediately mentally rubbed out the one up, returned the score to evens and apologised.
I gave her a potted version of my final year of school up to that point and played down a lot of the bullying I’d had to put up with, hopefully so that she didn’t think I was either being melodramatic or would look upon me with pity. That was definitely one thing I didn’t want.
By the time we got to her house, we were chatting away a lot more comfortably and I actually felt that with certain reservations of course, I liked her. I was glad I had someone to talk to who seemed to understand the situation. From then on, Mandy was never far away from me or I from her (lessons permitting), depending on your viewpoint.
Still I now had a friend.
Mandy and I became something of an item and pretty soon, the guys that had been giving me grief, eased off because all of a sudden, I had a girlfriend. Well, I say girlfriend, but I don’t think she was really that. She was a young female friend and I think there’s a vast chasm between that and the ‘girlfriend’. I had at least, been seen with a girl that was not my sister or mother and perhaps I wasn’t such a weirdo after all; all of this thanks to Mandy.
Thanks Mandy — really.
The fact that nothing happened in that way between Mandy and I, was beside the point. It deflected the situation somewhat and I was able to get on with school without the fear of constant ridicule, my performance picking up enough for me not to be in regular trouble with the teachers and having to keep my mother from finding out, not that she took that much interest anyway.
After a couple of weeks, I was invited to go round to her place after school, where we just chatted and listened to music. She really was a very intelligent person, one with whom I could talk, laugh and joke and not feel self-conscious, although I did notice that she watched me closely whatever I did. I just thought it was her way.
I was late home after the first time I went to Mandy’s house after school and was nearly in trouble, but when I said that I was round Mandy’s, I was let off. I got the usual “Paul’s got a girlfriend, Paul’s got a girlfriend” and “Paul and Mandy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G” from my brothers. It amused them, but as a pouting, underdeveloped teen, I was most annoyed which seemed to amuse mum and was an almost constant source of hilarity for the brats.
Friends
After a couple of weeks, I got to meet some of her friends too.
They weren’t from our school, but they seemed nice enough. A bit standoffish at first, but that’s only to be expected since their normal female circle was being sullied by a male. I don’t know what happened to change this view, but it wasn’t long before I was accepted and the quartet became a quintet.
It all started innocently enough.
There were only three of them: Julie, a five-eight blonde with a real sharp sense of humour. Her body was behaving something like mine, so although mentally mature, physically, she was a bit slow off the mark, looking a bit like a stick insect.
Next, there was Lisa. She was the same height as me with dark spiky hair. She was into the new romantics (I DID say this was set in the eighties) and as a result, her outlandish style tended to alienate her from the other circles. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she was only hanging about with us because there was nowhere else to be. She was actually really nice though.
Lastly, there was Caroline. She was a quiet one. Long straight hair and looked not unlike Violet Parr from the Incredibles. When they said “beware of the quiet ones, they’re the ones to watch out for”, they must have been talking about her.
This motley crew got together just before half term that year and I was just pleased to have someone to do things with, that it never bothered me that they were girls and not boys.
It didn’t take long before the makeup and makeovers started. I would sit and read to begin with, since I nearly caught fire blushing when Mandy first stripped down to bra and panties. Her argument was that it was no different to being in a bikini and suddenly it didn’t matter. I was pleased however that I was only asked to give an opinion and not actually join in with this pastime.
I was a pretty good artist and as such, got asked my opinion on makeup quite a lot — the apparently natural progression from dressing up. Lisa and her ‘colourful’ image was the starting point. She was somewhere between Souxie and the Banshees and Steve Strange. I know that the idea was to shock or to be outlandish, but it can shock or be outlandish and still look tasteful can’t it?
I started by offering opinions just from observation and when Caroline said “Well if you think you can do any better” I was up and at it. Next thing I knew, it became almost ritualistic and I started to get asked to do all of them (their makeup, silly!). Sometimes Mandy would even take pictures of the finished results.
It was during the two-week half-term break that things first stepped into a different realm.
Who's that girl?
Up until now, I had been able to just watch as the four of them would play ‘fashion show’ and they seemed happy enough to let it go at that. I was happy enough just getting involved with the makeup and the more I did it, the better I got, but it never went near MY face.
This time however, I had done all four girls’ makeup and was taking a well-earned break while they danced around to something on the radio. I was pretending to be reading a magazine, but in fact I was looking at Lisa. I liked her the most and I didn’t see anything wrong with looking since Mandy had not made any romantic feelings apparent to me.
So there I was, enjoying the ‘show’ and the music when Lisa suddenly asked “What about Paul?”
“What about me?” I asked and for the first time, I actually felt quite wary about what was to come.
“Well, you’ve done this for us so often and yet we never get to do yours.”
“No sweat! I don’t wear it do I?”
“We just want to see what you look like in it.”
Now I didn’t know where the ‘I’ suddenly became ‘we’, but somehow these women had an ability to talk to one another without moving their lips.
“Yeah, come on Paul. It’ll be fun.” said Mandy.
I thought SHE of all of them would have been a little more sympathetic, but no. Lots of ‘boys’ were wearing makeup since plenty of guys in bands like Duran Duran (especially Nick Rhodes) and Human League were wearing it and Steve Strange of Visage had made it something of a trademark.
I was outvoted four to one and whether I wanted to or not, I was going to be wearing makeup. It wasn’t a gentle experience. While I gently tended to each of them in turn, with me, it was a case of all hands on deck (or Paul in this case), so the experience wasn’t like being pampered, but mauled.
At the end of their work, I was shown the mirror and staring back at me was a teenage girl in too much makeup.
“Don’t you just love it?”
“Er…” I began. Yes actually I did. Boy George, eat your heart out, but the word pretty kept coming back into my head and it was shouting out that this was wrong. I was confused since for the first time the image in the mirror looked right. I don’t think there’s anything worse than trying to be something that your not, but sometimes it can be more difficult finding out what you are and even more so, coming to terms with what that might be.
I was speechless. I saw a girl in the mirror, not a boy in makeup — a girl. Perhaps there WAS too much makeup, but it looked so much more believable than looking in the mirror each morning and seeing me staring back and trying to see the man, even the boy.
“Yeah, I guess…” I said not knowing what to say. It was all so much of a shock.
Looking this way and that and seeing the cheekbones highlighted with the blusher, the lips, full, glossy and pouting and the eyes… I couldn’t get over how feminine I looked, how real.
I could see that the girls looked somewhat deflated, their efforts being shrugged off with an “I guess”, like an old coat that keeps you warm but you don’t want to be seen in and I felt sorry for being so offhand.
I was confused. I’d never seen me like this before, not even in my head. The idea that I could pass for female never occurred to me. I suppose it’s because I already had a lot on my mind, but now all the emotion I’d felt about not fitting in, not feeling comfortable with the way I was and a whole host of other things came crashing in all at once.
Tears started to well up in my eyes and in theirs too and I had no choice but to run into the bathroom and try to scrub it off my face. Believe me that was no mean feat, since the tears wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t see what I was doing.
I didn’t even stop to get my coat. As soon as I had ‘cleaned’ the war paint from my face, I was off. I ran nearly all the way home, sprinting upstairs two steps at a time into my room and closed the door behind me, ignoring the pleas of my mum to come in and find out what was wrong. My chest hurt and my head was spinning like a top and I really wasn’t sure which way was up.
I thought that would be an end to it. I thought that by running out on them, they would be saying how I wasn’t worth it and that I wasn’t one of the girls (which with all due respect, I wasn’t) and wasn’t it better without him?
I was wrong, on all counts.
The first thing I was wrong about was being able to stay in my room and sulk, mum saw to that.
“Dinner’s ready!” she announced. I just buried my head deeper into the pillow and tried to pretend to not hear. It wasn’t long before there was a sharp rapping on my door.
“I don’t know what the matter is, but it’ll be a whole lot worse if you don’t come and have you dinner NOW!”
Putting on my best ‘hurt’ pout, I went and opened the door. I thought she had gone back to the kitchen, but to my surprise, she was waiting outside, arms folded and tapping her foot in that way a woman does when you’re in the wrong and they are at the end of their patience.
“Get your backside into…” she began and then all at once, her eyebrows started their ascension to her hairline and didn’t stop there. “Oh — my — God! Are you wearing makeup?”
“NO!” I assured her.
I had rubbed my face almost raw back at Mandy’s and was sure there was nothing left; if I had rubbed any more, she would have been looking at my bones, wouldn’t she?
Evidently not.
She caught my earlobe in between her thumb and forefinger and dragged me yelping and squirming into the bathroom, hauling me up to the mirror.
“So what’s that?” she demanded, pointing at the mirror.
“Er…” I spluttered. It was obvious that where I had rubbed, the makeup had been removed, but I just hadn’t rubbed enough all over. In fact, I had missed more than I had got, my eyes looked like those of a panda and there was still enough rouge on my cheeks to look more than just a healthy blush.
She dragged me back out of the bathroom and into her bedroom and my ear by was feeling like one more tug and it would come away, probably complete with the half of my face.
“Here.” she said, thrusting a tin of makeup remover at me. “Don’t come into the kitchen until it’s all off.”
“I’d rather not go into the kitchen at all, if it’s all the same.” I said miserably.
“I didn’t go to all the trouble of cooking your food, just to have you leave it.” she said, her eyes flashing with an anger I’d not seen before. “Now get on with it and come and have your tea. If you don’t hurry up, it’ll be cold.”
She turned to leave her bedroom and both of us could hear the scampering or four other feet that no doubt belonged to the brats. I could still hear their titters and giggles well after mum had gone.
I picked up some tissue from a box on her dressing table and started to smear the cold gloop over my face, being careful to cover where all the makeup was then threw that tissue away, picked a fresh one and started to wipe the gloop and makeup off.
It wasn’t a long job; not nearly as long as I had hoped. I had hoped it would take forever so I could just go to bed, but no. A couple of minutes and it was history, a bad memory, or rather, a good memory gone bad.
I tried to stay invisible as I crept into the kitchen and my two brothers we giggling into their hands. I wasn’t happy and told them to shut up, but mum was having none of it.
“What do you expect you big sissy.”
“I’m no sissy!” I said and I thought that had I been bigger, this probably wouldn’t have happened in the first place.
“Well, boys don’t wear makeup do they?”
“What about Boy George, Adam ant or Duran Duran?” I asked. “Maybe OMD or Tears for Fears and Gary Numan?”
“But they’re all bloody poofs.” she said spitefully, making the two brats laugh even harder.
I couldn’t eat all my dinner that evening. I was too interested in getting the hell out of there. I wasn’t a poof and what was wrong with Gary Numan or the Durannies anyway? I was pretty sure after consideration, mentioning Boy George didn’t help my cause though.
I couldn’t believe that my own mother could be so negative, especially since she had Slade, Sweet, Kiss, David Bowie and Marc Bolan albums in her collection, not to mention Roxy Music when Brian Eno was with them and there were some serious makeup jobs on a few of them that’s for sure, never mind the suits!
Another thing that shocked me was the fact that this was the first thing she had actually given an opinion on with regards to what I was doing. Up until then, she’d shown little or no interest in my schooling, the subjects, marks or my reports. Why the sudden interest when legally, I was allowed to leave home, get a job and be my own man or woman for that matter?
(Keep feeling) Fascination
The next thing I was wrong about was the girls just giving up on me.
It was a few days later when Mandy, Lisa, Caroline and Julie turned up mob-handed to drag me out with them. Mum answered the door and was shocked to see that there were four girls asking me to come out with them.
Boy was that a shock (for both of us).
I didn’t feel that it was necessary to point out that I wasn’t having a relationship with any of them (more’s the pity) and just like Mandy and I at school; that was just a detail. Mum could believe what she wanted to believe.
Meanwhile, it deflected the anger that mum was still harbouring to some degree over my returning with makeup on last time I was with them because, how could a poof go out with four girls? She’s a dear mother, but can be a real simpleton sometimes.
It was with a look of wonder that mum watched me waltz off with my friends and I have to say, it felt good to be in their company again.
“We’ve got to stop off at my place, and then we’re all going to that café along Western Road, The Cordoba to play some pool and have coffees.” Mandy announced.
“Lead on!” I said grinning and the four girls looked at one another and giggled. I tried to ignore it, but once again, I was just one pathetic and skinny lad with four rapidly maturing females that frankly scared the bejezus out of me.
In no time, we had arrived at Mandy’s house and were ushered inside. I was grabbed and led to the bathroom. I didn’t even have time to react before the shower was turned on and I was told to get on my knees and lean over the bath.
Before you ask, yes I did try and resist, but in my defence, there wasn’t a lot of room and it was a four-to-one spilt, so the long and short of it was, I lost and was on my knees with my head over the side of the bath within seconds of my objection.
They weren’t too discriminate about the water, my t-shirt and sweatshirt soaked after a few moments amidst much giggling and yelping. I felt like I had been pushed through a car-wash by the time they’d finished and I was told to turn round. My wet things were roughly pulled off and hung up to dry while one of them towel-dried my hair.
“You’ve got lovely hair.” said Lisa and for the first time, I felt proud to get the compliment although, with everything else that was happening, I wondered how much sincerity there was there.
After much patting and rubbing of my hair, I was led to the bedroom and sat down on Mandy’s computer chair in front of the vanity.
“We’re really sorry about the other day.” said Mandy. The others chorused in with a murmur of affirmation. “And we feel really bad about you having to go home like you did.”
There were more affirmatives, but I was starting to see something here, bubbling as it was just below the surface and I had a strange feeling I probably wasn't going to like it.
“So we decided we needed to look after you.” said Lisa. I looked up into the mirror before me, to see Lisa standing just behind my right shoulder. The look she gave me could have melted my heart right there and then, in fact it did. “So do you trust us?”
“Oh God!” I thought as a resounding “NO!” crashed like an ICBM into my conscious thoughts, but I was looking at Lisa’s face and any resolve that may have been present disappeared with a ‘ping’ like it had been zapped by a magic wand. “Yes.” I said in a small voice, thinking that I trusted her, but I wasn’t sure about the others.
It was like letting off a firework. The stillness was broken by the four girls going into overdrive, each moving in a different direction, each with an agenda and all moving together like the cogs of a well maintained precision instrument. This one, swift movement culminated in the covering of the mirror and then all hell broke loose.
The next stage rushed at me like a herd of stampeding bison as Lisa began applying makeup.
“Hey! What’s going on?” I started, backing away as far as the seat back would allow.
“Shh. You trust us, right?”
“Well…”
“I promise I won’t let anything bad happen okay?” she said and kissed me lightly, her lips barely touching mine, but the feeling was like being hit in the stomach with an out of control truck.
I was trembling like a leaf, but I let her carry on and Caroline started brushing out my hair, sectioning it off and putting it in rollers. I was just a complete mess inside and was about to turn completely to jelly when Mandy returned from wherever she’d been along with Julie with a whole host of clothes, none of which matched my gender.
Now with my eyes closed and Lisa being oh-so-gentle with the pencil, I succumbed to what was inevitable. Even though I knew what was about to happen, frankly with the feeling of the pampering I was getting, I didn’t care.
My hair completely rolled, I was told to raise my hands, which I did almost in a dreamlike state and felt a very strange sensation of something been draped over my arms and fastened about my chest. I can’t say I didn’t know what it was or what was going on, because that wasn’t true. After the makeup session, I was intrigued as they were as to what I would look like and was content to go with the flow. The fact that four pairs of very feminine hands were brushing, touching and just being on my body probably swung it.
I felt some things being shoved down the front of the bra and then my hands were raised again and a very soft, silky garment was dropped over my head and buttons were fastened when it was in place.
“You’re going to have to do this last bit.” I was told. I opened my eyes to see all four girls turned away, one holding a pair of cotton knickers in pale lavender with a tiny bow in the front on the waistband and one holding a plain black pleated skirt. I understood what was expected and dropped my trousers and briefs, stepped out of them and took the proffered underwear.
I have to say, that women get the better deal in the undies department. I know they’re not supporting anything, but the construction is lighter, the material softer, more gentle and well, much more comfortable than the crappy things I was expected to wear.
I stepped into them and pulled them up, marvelling at the feeling, partly because I knew they were girl’s undies and partly because I liked the feeling. Then I stepped into the skirt, zipping it up and turning it round as I had seen mum do thousands of times before.
“Are you done yet?” asked Mandy.
“Just about, I said smiling ruefully. They turned round and although that part wasn’t choreographed, I have to say that it couldn’t have been done better in a film. They all turned at about the same time and their jaws dropped one at a time from right to left as they looked at me, standing in a skirt and whatever else and a silly grin. Oh, don’t forget the curlers.
“Right, sit yourself down.” said Caroline, patting the seat in front of her and when I had plopped back down in the chair, she started to take out the curlers one by one, teasing the hair gently with the tail of the comb.
I lifted an arm to see the blouse I was wearing and although it wasn’t particularly showy, it felt gorgeous and I could feel the butterflies starting to do their own version of Riverdance in my stomach at the anticipation of the final outcome. The last thing was a pair of low-heeled sandals that fortunately fitted quite comfortably.
I didn’t have long to wait either as with two girls on either side of the mirror and to the count of “one… two… three…” the cover was removed from the mirror and I gasped.
“Holy…” I cried, finding it hard to take my eyes from the reflection of the teenage girl that was staring back at me. I rose slowly, smoothing the front of the skirt as I did and turned equally slowly, looking at myself from every conceivable angle.
The girls were nudging one another as they looked at me, my eyes nearly out on stalks.
“You like?”
“I-I don’t know w-what to say.” I stammered. My mind was in warp-drive as I felt the material of the skirt touching my legs like a whisper. I liked alright. I could see Lisa standing just behind them all and when I caught her eye, she looked down, demurely. That feeling of being hit by a truck resurfaced and I had to sit back down.
I got my breath back, got up and walked straight up to her. I looked her in the eye and whispered “Do YOU like?” She blushed and I could tell without her saying anything what the answer was.
Club Tropicana (The Cordoba)
I was caught up in a whole range of emotions, the most overpowering on was the feeling of Lisa’s touch. I got the collywobbles just thinking about it and I think the silly grin was fast becoming a permanent fixture.
I sat waiting for the next thing to happen, my brain somewhere in outer space I think. I had completely forgotten the bit about going out into the big, bad, very wide world and was preoccupied with the feeling of the blouse, the skirt and the knickers.
I don’t know or care how long I had sat there, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when Mandy announced that we were now going to the Cordoba.
“What?” I almost screamed.
“That’s what we said, remember? Now come on or we’ll be late.”
“Late?” I thought. Were we meeting others there or something?
“I-I don’t know if I c-can d-do this.” I said, suddenly turning very green. I couldn’t see the colour change, but I felt like I was just a moment away from actually being sick, so I think it’s a fair assumption.
“Yes you can.” said Mandy as usual, taking charge of the situation.
I wasn’t so sure. I mean, okay, I liked the way I looked, how I felt, but for over sixteen years, I had been Paul. Now I suppose I was Paula or Pauline, which was a complete departure from what I was used to.
Lisa came and put her arm round me and gave me a hug. I wished that we could have just stayed there while I cuddled Lisa. I think that would have been infinitely more preferable to wandering around town in a skirt for the first time in my life.
Once again, I found myself outnumbered and it was only because of Lisa that I found the courage to go with them.
I have to say though that Mandy was starting to worry me and had been from the first time I had seen her looking at me. I don’t know what it was or is that I find bothersome, but there’s something there and I have had the impression on numerous occasions that she is working to an agenda I know nothing about.
The trip to the Cordoba wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought. I walked close to Lisa and no-one even gave me a second look.
We were in there for about half an hour I suppose when some boys came into the little café. I recognised Greg Bridger and one or two others, but I didn’t know their names. The rest I didn’t know. I guess they were like the girls and went to different schools.
I knew that if Greg Bridger saw me, I was dead. My life at school would be over, if I got to live that long. I immediately found the toilets and nearly went into the gents rather than the ladies. I was in there for about twenty minutes before anyone knew I was even missing.
I expect that it was just a coincidence, but I thought I saw a look on Mandy’s face when the boys came in and it didn’t look as though she was particularly shocked by their arrival.
It was Lisa that found me.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her face showing concern.
“No,” I sniffed. “I know some of those boys that came in. Are they still out there?”
“Yes. You know them?”
“One of them is Greg Bridger. He’s friends with one of the boys at school that like to make my life a living hell.”
Lisa thought for a moment.
“We can get you out of here. You’re not feeling good right?”
“Not now, no.”
“Well just rest your head on my shoulder and we’ll walk out. They won’t even see who you are and they stop us, we’ll just say you’re not well and I’m taking you home.”
It was so simple, it had to work.
I tucked my head into Lisa’s shoulder and I could smell her perfume, I couldn’t help but plant a kiss on her neck. She was reaching for the door when I did it and she froze. I looked up at her. There was a look on her face I couldn’t read and she pushed me back slightly. I wondered whether I had done something bad, something that would leave me on my own again to deal with a situation that I really didn’t need to be in.
She took my face in her hands and drew me closer, planting her lips on mine. I could feel her tongue against my lips and opened my mouth for her to let it slip inside. Within seconds, we were wrapped in a very passionate kiss that left me breathless and weak at the knees to say the very least.
We broke apart and assumed the position again to get me out of there.
Walking at a slow but steady pace, my weak knees just adding to the effect and we left, passing the pool table. Mandy and Julie were talking with the boys that had come in, while Caroline was sat on the edge of the pool table, her legs wrapped around one of the boys. I think that given a little more prompting she’d have been prepared to have sex there and then. As I said, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch. They didn’t notice us until we walked past the window outside and along the road.
There was a shout from behind and still arm in arm, my head against Lisa’s neck, we stopped.
“Where are you going?” asked Julie.
“Do you know who those boys are?” asked Lisa.
“Yeah, they’re friends of Mandy’s I think.” she answered. Lisa looked at me and nodded. She pursed her lips and nodded again.
“She knew they’d be there then?” It was more rhetorical than a question.
“Dunno,” said Julie shrugging. “They’re in there most afternoons.”
Lisa nodded again. “See ya.” she said, turned around and we carried on up the road.
“Hey! Just a fucking minute. What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Those are the boys who have been giving Paul grief. Mandy must have known that. She set him up.”
“You don’t know that.” said Julie defensively, although her defence seemed to lack conviction. “Oh shit. Wait a minute.”
We hung around for a few moments before Julie reappeared complete with jacket and the three of us walked back towards my house. I didn’t know what I was going to say to mum, but I needed to understand what was happening to me and I needed her to understand that too.
We got to the front door and I asked if they wanted to come in for a drink.
“We’d better not.” said Lisa and we kissed again before she and Julie disappeared up the lane and out of sight.
My heart sank. I knew that thanks to me, the quintet was now down to a quartet and I wasn’t overly sure about that. I was in tears as I opened the front door and ran upstairs to my room. I didn’t care whether mum saw me like this or not. All I cared about was the fact that my one friend at school turned out to be an enemy or at best, someone I could no longer trust any further than I could spit.
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Paul's mum is not impressed by his new look...
More thanks to Kristina L S for her help.
Chapter 2
All cried out
I didn’t know whether mum was in or out. I didn’t care. I was sobbing like a little girl, looked like a little girl and wasn’t sure I wasn’t really supposed to be a little girl.
I had apparently been tricked and by someone with whom trickery of this nature should not have been an issue. Perhaps I was being overly sensitive to all this, but all I knew right now was that I wouldn’t piss in Mandy’s ear if her brain were on fire. In the heat of the moment, there were one or two other things I wouldn’t have minded subjecting her to either.
I locked myself in the bedroom and basically bawled my eyes out. For about half an hour, I cried and cried and then I cried some more.
During this, I contemplated all sorts of dark things, not least of which was an end to all this. I was just so angry and upset by a litany of bad events for the last, well years really. I wanted it to stop and one way to do that was to end it once and for all.
On my bed and through the copious flow of tears, I tried to fathom how my life had got this far into the mire. I knew that my size was part of the problem, but there was little I could do about that and it scared me that my first sojourn into feminine attire had made me feel something I had never felt before, something that in amongst the angst and turbulence, felt right.
Through the snivels and sobs, I tried to come to terms with the fact that I liked being one of the girls; I liked playing their games, well, not the ones that Mandy appeared to be playing, but the dressing up and the makeup. I even caught myself thinking that I had wasted so much time NOT joining in with the dressing up before, but then I wasn’t given the opportunity before.
I went back to the beginning, to where the brown pungent matter started hitting the air conditioning…
The issues at school began about half way through the last school year, but then I already knew that part. The disquiet at home started before that, long before that; before I started at senior school, so I guess that would have made me about ten.
Mum had found this guy out of whose arse, she thought the sun shone and after a whirlwind romance, they became an item getting married shortly after. Soon I was a big brother when Phil was born. Roger (the man with the shining bum and now my step-father) was over the moon, or so it seemed.
All was going well. I would help with looking after my young sibling and by the time he was about eighteen months, I was going to be a big brother to yet another sibling when Terry arrived.
By now, I had started at a secondary school and had gone from a small primary with no more than a hundred and twenty students, to a huge school that had ten times that number. The classes were twice the size and for the longest time I felt lost as I was one of the only pupils from my old junior school, the rest having gone to another school which I had to thank my lucky stars I didn’t go to.
Anyhow, about half way through the first year there, I got sent home (much to the schools administrator’s disgust), to help mum. I was worried as I had no idea what had happened, but when I arrived, I found mum had slipped a disc in her back and was lying prostrate on the sofa. Phil was about two and Terry was only six months, needing almost constant attention, something mum couldn’t give.
I became a surrogate mother for the next month, doing everything from feeding to changing nappies, cooking, cleaning and some light shopping from the shop down the road.
Mum and Roger argued almost constantly. I knew she was in pain and he wouldn’t accept any responsibility. She almost pleaded with him to help, but that was too much for his fragile, macho ego to cope with and he point blankly refused.
Mum argued that the house should not be being run by an eleven year-old, but he just laughed and said that it should be right up my street. I didn’t understand, largely because I couldn’t hear everything that was said and in some cases I felt that I had already heard too much, but I didn’t understand what he implied.
Mum was in tears, shouting at Roger and I could only make out certain things that were being said as their arguing had woken Terry, who was now screaming blue murder and Phil wasn’t far behind. I had to close the kitchen door and spent the next however long trying to calm the two boys.
The upshot was that mum had asked Roger what he thought would have happened had I not been there. What did he think she was going to be able to do without being able to walk, even sit up?
Roger stormed out, slamming doors and swearing, undoing all I had done to calm my brothers and starting them off again. That coupled with mum’s sobbing from next door was all I needed to make that afternoon a most memorable occasion.
From that point forth, Roger treated me differently. I tried not to read too much into things, but I got the distinct impression that he was jealous. I wasn’t particularly mature (I wasn’t old or wise enough yet) and didn’t know much about human emotions, but jealousy was one of the more powerful and I had seen that a-plenty in kids. It was confusing to see it from a fully-grown adult.
That started everything off. From then on, mum was different too. Roger had accused her of favouring me over ‘their’ children and mum, ever the peacekeeper, tried to even the score by showing me less affection, her thinking being that I was obviously mature enough to understand what was going on and more pointedly, why.
But I wasn’t. I had been put under a lot of pressure to keep things together over that month and at the end of it all, I felt like I was being cast aside by the one person I felt should have been there for me.
Over the years, this ‘he’s your favourite’ was a regular in their arguments and mum’s outward displays of affection towards me became less and less. I got the feeling that I had done something somewhere down the line that was pushing her away, but every time I tried to get close, it was always the wrong time, there was always something else to do; something more important.
I had reached the stage where I knew the little boy was going away, but I didn’t know what was coming. I was sure that I was supposed to grow to be a larger boy then on to a man, but every time I looked at myself, that’s not what I saw. To be honest, even if I was some big strapping lad, I don’t think that’s what I would have seen.
Meanwhile, I had a more immediate problem to deal with…
Mum was banging on my door, demanding entry. That’s mum, subtle as a brick to the soft bits. I wondered whether changing was a good plan, but considered the amount of makeup that was abseiling down my face and decided against it.
“Good God!” she exclaimed as I stood in the doorway in skirt, blouse, training bra, sandals and eyes like Alice Cooper on a bad night (again). “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”
I didn’t know.
Was this playing? I guess not.
Was I serious about being a girl? I didn’t know that either.
“I-I’m sorry m-mum.” I stammered not really knowing what to say.
“So you bloody-well should be. What are the neighbours going to think seeing you coming and going in all this… this… stuff?” she continued angrily.
Good point, but then I didn’t suppose that the neighbours had gender issues. I just shrugged and looked at my toes poking out through the straps of the sandals and wondered what they’d look like with polish.
“Perhaps Roger was right about you. Bloody poof!” she spat and turned to walk away. To my horror, she wasn’t alone. Lisa was there behind her and up to this point in our ‘discussion’ was keeping mum (sorry, couldn’t resist).
“Hey, that’s a bit unfair. It was just a bit of fun that got out of hand.” she said. My God, if she wanted me to fall in love with her, she was going the right way about it. I’d never had anyone stand up for me before.
“What’s it got to do with you? You don’t know anything.”
“I know a lot more than you do by the looks of things.” she retorted hotly.
Foxy bitch! I was getting hot flushes just thinking about her and I wrapped in each others arms kissing like we were in the café. This was just making me tremble all over; at least I think it was that that was making me tremble. Fear may have had something to do with it though.
“I think you should leave. I see that my SON has problems with his choice of friends and I don’t think you’re actually a particularly good influence on him. I’d prefer it if you left.”
I could see Lisa’s eyes flash anger then start to fill and my own were going the same way.
“No!” I shouted. “Stay here, I think I need you to be here. Please Lisa?”
“I’m not going to ask you again Lisa. Just get out of my house!”
Lisa turned and with a slight sniff, she descended the stairs and disappeared.
I dropped to the bed like a stone. My stomach felt queasy and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to withhold the next bout of tears. Mum turned to me.
“Get out of that ridiculous costume immediately and wash that crap off your face.” she snarled and walked away, leaving me with tears rolling down my face, a knot the size of Europe in my stomach and a feeling I can only describe as loathing forming in my head.
Say hello wave goodbye
Once I had calmed down, changed into my own clothes and cleaned the makeup from my face (which incidentally, if camouflage ever becomes popular, this is a good way of getting it, though I can’t say I would recommend the methods), I went to face the music.
“Ah. I have a SON again.” said mum, a note of sarcasm in her voice. “I was beginning to wonder.”
“I don’t know why you bothered. You never take any interest in anything else I do.”
“How dare you? Don’t speak to me like that. I’m your mother, show some respect.”
“Why? You’re not showing me any. Talking to ME like that in front of my friend, never mind the way you spoke to her.”
I didn’t know where that came from. Had I suddenly discovered courage?
No.
It wasn’t courage, it was frustration.
I had had enough of her treating me like I wasn’t there most of the time and not having time for me when I needed it and… All those things I had tried to tell myself were just part of being a parent and then trying to find excuses for when she’d sit either of the brats on her knee and talk them through something. I hadn’t had time like that with her since I was eleven.
“This is MY house and while you’re in MY house, you’ll obey MY rules.” she said with that holier than thou look on her face.
“So I’m not allowed to see Lisa, I’m not allowed to have fun with my friends unless you like them. Is there anything I can do, or is that asking too much?”
“Yes, you can go to your room. I’m fed up with you talking back like that.”
“Talking back? I only asked a question.”
“Roger was right. It would have been so much better had he not had to compete with you all the time.”
Well that was it for me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was at my wits end and didn’t know what to do for the better. I just wanted to get away, to run and hide somewhere and not come out again. Roger had NEVER had to compete as it was made clear very early on where my place was and it NEVER came above HIM.
I went to my room and spent about thirty microseconds weighing up my options. With a few things packed in a rucksack, I waited until mum went into the bathroom, then legged it downstairs and out.
The feeling or relief when I got to the outside world again was tremendous. I had no idea where I was going, but I was sure I’d think of something.
I ended up some three hours later at my Uncle Ray’s house. He was cool. He liked making model aeroplanes and had a ‘young’ outlook on life. His woman and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but he was alright.
He opened the door and the floodgates opened. I was bawling my eyes out yet again and even I was shocked at the amount of emotion that had come out that day.
He just stood there in a state of shock, wondering what the hell was going on.
“I’ve run away from home.” I blurted. “Please let me stay here, please.” That didn’t reduce the look of incomprehension on his face at all. By then Lily, his other half had come to see what all the fuss was about.
Ray asked Lily to leave me with him for a few minutes and he led me into their lounge. I sat, my rucksack clutched to me on my lap, my head just about poking over the top.
“What do you mean you’ve left home?”
“Well I had a big argument with mum and snuck out while she wasn’t looking.”
“You’ve obviously given this some thought.” he said a wry smile playing on his lips.
“Er, not really. I just couldn’t stay there any more.”
Lily arrived with tea.
(Tea: a hot or cold drink that is viewed in England as an elixir. It is reputed to cure what ails ye. For example: Mrs Jones’ cat dies and the next door neighbour says “come and ‘ave a nice cup of tea luv” and magically, the once distraught Mrs Jones is once more back to normal. Or Mr Smith loses his job and Mrs Smith says “come and ‘ave a nice cup of tea luv” and suddenly everything’s alright again)
The three of us went through home, the bullying, the time in bandages, the first makeup job and then the café, culminating in the row with mum and hers with Lisa.
“I’m just about all in with this. Whatever I do it’s wrong. I can’t see my friends and now they’re not allowed to see me either, well not at home. They’re not even bad people. I thought the best thing to do was to end it all. I don’t fit and I don’t know whether I’m a boy or a girl…” I stopped there as two jaws hit the deck at the same time. “Did I just say that out loud?”
“Er, yes. I’m not sure what you mean by that.” said Ray, looking a little embarrassed.
The truth was out and I felt strangely relieved at the fact. Oddly, they were shocked, but I had imagined them backing away, trying to get as far from me as possible in case they caught it too.
“Well actually, exactly that. I don’t, I mean, look at me. I’m sixteen going on seventeen and I look like I’m about twelve.”
“I was going to say thirteen actually.” said Lily.
“Well, whatever age, that doesn’t mean you should be a girl. Whatever gave you that idea.” said Ray.
“I only have two or three ‘friends’ and they’re all girls. Lisa is my girlfriend — sort of — and they dressed me up today, makeup, the works. It felt great, I felt like I belonged for the first time in my life.”
Ray and Lily looked at one another and I could feel that depression looming once again. I knew they were going to tell me I was being ridiculous and didn’t know what I was talking about. Perhaps they WERE going to back away from me, but I was surprised when Lily came to me, prised the rucksack from my grasp and drew me to her in one of the nicest hugs I’ve had (apart from Lisa).
“It’ll be alright.” she whispered. “Do you want us to tell your mum you’re here?”
“Do you have to?” I asked, hanging on to her for grim death, envisaging an angry parent trying to bash their door down in the middle of the night.
“Not really I suppose, but it might be wise. She might have the police out looking for you. At least if she knows where you are…”
I didn’t want to tell Lily that I thought the police part unlikely as I always seemed to be in the way, but I didn’t want mum to know where I was. I wanted her to sweat. I wanted her to wonder about what she had said and what she’d done and to think about what she had put me through.
“I don’t know. I mean, if she knows I’m here, she’ll give you hell. I’m just afraid of what she’d do.”
“Why? She’s never hit you before has she? She certainly won’t do anything like that here.”
“Just because she doesn’t hit, doesn’t mean it’s not painful. I’ve had the non-hitting abuse for the last five years and I don’t want any more.”
“I see. You’re serious about this aren’t you?”
“I think I am, yes. Very.”
“What about school?”
“I could walk from here. It’s closer than mum’s anyway. I don’t want to miss the exams.”
Ray and Lily left the room. They stood out in the hall and I was ready for them to send me back on my way, asking not to be involved.
To be precise, Ray’s not my real uncle. He’s the son of my grandfather’s second wife from her former marriage. He’s closer to me than most of my relations and has always made me welcome. I don’t know why Lily should suddenly have changed her tune, but I couldn’t say I was unhappy about it.
I could hear them talking in the hallway.
“I’ve seen this coming for ages.” said Lily. “I think he’s very brave.”
“Yeah, I know, but he’s Sarah’s kid. I don’t know that we should be getting involved.”
“Oh come on. He’s been branded a queer and a sissy. He’s had to put up with abuse at home, bullying at school, been to hospital for that very reason and I can’t see that Sarah’s cutting him any slack. You know what I think about her. I think she’s only interested in one thing and it isn’t Paul.”
There was quiet for a few moments then Ray came back into the lounge.
“Okay sport. You can stay here, but only on one condition…” said Ray.
“Conditions be hanged.” I thought and rushed him, throwing my arms round him and hugging him soundly. To say he looked embarrassed would be a crass understatement. He was beet-red and didn’t know where to put his face.
“Thank you so much Ray and you too Lily.” I said, going to her and hugging her. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Ray coughed, uncomfortable with the open displays of affection. “Yes, well… One condition. You must attend school until your exams and everything are over. Is that clear?”
“Crystal!” I said.
“Good. We’ll deal with the other things as they come up.”
Lifeline
Ray and Lily had handed me a lifeline. I was given my own room and the atmosphere was really pleasant. Ray helped with my studying and often it would bring tears to my eyes, the fact that I wasn’t related to him and yet, he went out of his way to be a good and helpful person.
Lily too was a revelation. I had never got on with her too well, I don’t know why, but perhaps mum had something to do with that. She made it plain to Ray what she thought about mum and I think that my development into a person and not an extension of her made a difference.
Lily was patient and we would often sit and talk. She wasn’t a psychiatrist, but she had a degree in psychology and understood the issues regarding transgendered people, a subject which was becoming more widespread. I suppose I was a brilliant opportunity to study one in the flesh. She would write things down as we spoke and I was surprised how much.
I was happy to talk, as things became clearer in my mind after I’d chatted with her and each time I felt I was closer to becoming what I was supposed to become, although I still wasn’t sure what that was supposed to be. Nevertheless, I was getting comfortable with what I currently was.
I missed the girls though and most of all, I missed Lisa. I know we had only known each other for a short while, but there was a connection there I didn’t want to lose and I was sure that if we could get together again, I would have a friend, I mean a real friend if not more.
I didn’t miss mum. I know ‘blood’s thicker than water’ and all that, but as one of my friends once said, “You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family” and I can’t say I disagree.
Similarly, they couldn’t choose me either, so I can’t be disappointed with them for being disappointed with me. I can however be upset with the treatment and since I’d been out of that house, I was less stressed than ever before.
Ray and Lily had to ring mum and tell her where I was, but apparently she showed no emotion until Lily said that they ought to get something financially to keep me with.
“If he wants to live with you (though I can’t see why he would) he’ll have to pay his own way. There’s a perfectly good home here for him here if he stops all this queer business and gets himself some proper friends. I’m not having him wandering around in skirts and dresses. The next thing I know, he’ll want to bring his boyfriends home. What would the neighbours say? I’ll be a laughing stock.”
“You can’t make demands like that.” argued Lily.
“I’m afraid you don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s my house and I’m not having my son acting like a girl, making a fool of himself with those girls he calls his friends dressing him up and that’s final. You want him; you have him, but I’m not paying for it.”
“Fine! We will. If that’s what it takes to get him away from you.” said Lily angrily, slamming the phone down.
I ran to my room. Lily was shaking and in tears and I didn’t think I should hang around.
It was quite a shock to hear (afterwards) what mum had to say and the fact that Ray and Lily were prepared to pick up the mantle of mum and dad. The thought of me calling Ray ‘dad’ was very funny indeed, but so sweet too since I never knew my dad, but Ray said that under no circumstances was I ever to do so. I could happily call Lily mum, but I don’t think she’d have liked it much either.
The school holiday was over all too quickly and I went back to face a whole heap of exams. I had to do well if I wanted to go to college and learn a trade or maybe go to university, but that was all in the future. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring let alone what I wanted to do for a living.
I took a deep breath and walked through the gate.
It was a very strange feeling walking into school after the break. We had few lessons and most of those were revision classes to help us through the examinations. I felt relaxed and ready which surprised me. I was expecting to feel as tense as an over-wound clock, but no. Maybe it was moving out of home and the tension that released.
I was half expecting to run into the girls, but the only one would have been Mandy. I wasn’t sure I wanted to run into her, but somehow, the time that passed between the café and now, had relaxed what had initially been a rage towards her.
I was now just curious to know what on earth possessed her to make a date at that café, but I knew for sure the relationship would never be the same as it was and would not deepen as I thought or hoped it might.
I did see her that first day, but she ignored me and judging by the look on her face, I figured that it was just as well we didn’t meet face to face. I’d calmed, but it didn’t look as though she had.
Lunch was another place we passed like ships in the night and although I tried my best to avoid her, I would have had more luck sweeping air into a heap.
Confrontation was inevitable and as much as I had feared it before, now I was becoming more relaxed with myself thanks to Ray and Lily I just thought “ho-hum” and couldn’t wait to get it over with. I don’t know for sure, but I think Lily was for me like a cerebral Valium. I just couldn’t be bothered to get worked up about it.
It was sad that Mandy didn’t feel the same way. I could sense that each time she saw me she was getting more and more agitated. It was visible in her body language, visible in the look on her face. I just shook my head and wondered how long it would take for her to develop ulcers with that much stress going on.
I predicted the confrontation wouldn’t take long to come to pass and I was right. It actually only took a couple of days for her to get round to it. I didn’t know either whether it would take place in the school or outside. She chose outside.
“What did you say to Julie and Lisa?” she demanded. She had that lop-sided stance of someone that was ready to fight.
“Why?” Just a single word reply and no stress on my part was all it took to diffuse the situation. I think her belligerence was expected to get me to curl up and beg for forgiveness.
“I haven’t seen or heard from them.”
“Why do you think that would have anything to do with me? They were your friends.”
The balling of the fists and the almost pursed lips made it look as though her thought processes were working overtime. I could see that she was just looking for something, anything to blame me for, but couldn’t. She ended up walking away with no joy.
I smiled inwardly and thanked Ray and Lily for their advice, as normally any form of confrontation ended in bruising, but this time (alright it was a girl I was confronted by), I walked away with nothing and the aggressor got nothing either.
I knew it wasn’t over though. I knew that there was more to come and it was probably going to end up in a cat fight.
That night as I sat on my bed, I thought about THAT day (the one at the café); the feeling of being dressed in the skirt… well everything really. I went to my chest of drawers and drew out the outfit. I treated it with reverence and still do. It doesn’t fit now, but I still have it. Anyway, I got it out of its safe place at the back of a deep drawer, tucked away in a stout polythene bag. I made sure the door was shut and disrobed then put on the bra, the knickers and then the blouse, pulling the skirt up last of all.
I looked in the vanity mirror and twirled this way and that, taking in the incomplete, but still girlish image that returned my gaze. I could feel the skirt as it swished against my legs, the feeling of the bra, like a harness to keep the girl in me in place and the soft, light underwear. The finishing touch was the footwear; the sandals that felt so nice, not like sandals that boys wear at all, like shoes with no uppers. It’s hard to put my finger on, but when I looked at myself, it felt so freeing.
I stayed in my room all evening, not taking the outfit off until bed time and even then, it could be viewed that I only did it under duress.
I was feeling so much better that I didn’t even flinch when I was confronted by Fuller and Bridger. I just didn’t care anymore and they must have known as all I got was the knocking of shoulders as they walked past trying to get a rise out of me, but I wasn’t playing anymore. I was starting to feel empowered and all it took was a change of attitude and perhaps the new living arrangements.
Ray wasn’t a big bloke and I guess he’d had to take his turn with the big bullies too in his time, but he had worked out a way of deflecting the situation. It was so simple but one of those things that if you don’t know about it, you’d never know and now I knew. True, it didn’t work in all cases, but it did enough to get me through the exams without a scratch.
The whole week went past and although I could see that Mandy was just bursting to have another go, nothing actually happened. I was sad. It was like having something hanging over me that I didn’t want there. I also didn’t want the friction between Mandy and I. I had too few friends already.
Lily invited me to go shopping that weekend and I jumped at the chance.
We weren’t going for me, but Lily wanted to get some things and I was surprised that she asked my opinion. I enjoyed it.
She would go and try something on and then come out of the cubicle and pose. I’d give my opinion and she’d either smile or frown, but it was all done with a smile really. It didn’t even bother me that I was a boy, in fact, I never gave it a thought until we got home and realised that what I’d done today was very typically girlish and again my ‘up’ came down with a thud.
I didn’t get depressed though because while we were out, I bumped into someone I hadn’t seen since the day at the café: Caroline.
I made my excuses and left Lily for a few moments to catch up with Caroline and once I had scanned the horizon for incoming Bridger’s, we settle to chat.
“You left so quickly.” she said of my departure from the café.
“Yeah, well.” I said blushing slightly. “I had good reason. The boy you were wrapped up in wasn’t exactly friendly towards me and I felt it best to get out of his way.” I said, underplaying the reasoning.
“I know what you mean.” she replied. “I chucked him the day after. He was such a moron. He looked nice until he opened his mouth. I felt really bad, but that was the only reason I wanted Mandy to go to the Cordoba, so I could see him.”
Well now that was revelation.
We had all jumped to conclusions about that day and now Caroline had just made Julie, Lisa and I look like complete weasels. I felt so bad about Mandy. She had been blamed for everything. I wondered whether she could ever forgive me.
Back at school on Monday and even at the risk of being late, I waited for Mandy at the school gate. I didn’t want to wait any longer than I had to, to explain where everything had gone wrong, why I thought that Julie and Lisa had given her the brush-off and why I didn’t want to not be friends with her.
I didn’t have long to wait and at first she tried her level best to ignore me, those shrewish looks and the undeniable belligerence, written all over her face.
“Mandy! Wait!” I shouted. “What’s happening with Julie and Lisa: It’s not your fault.” I said. All three of us had jumped to conclusions, but all three of us weren’t there anymore, it was just me. If I wanted to get this mess cleared up, I knew it was going to have to be me who made the first move.
She stopped and turned slowly, her face like thunder.
“I, I mean, ‘we’, that is Julie, Lisa and I, jumped to conclusions after the café.” I said; ready to take anything she could throw at me. “I saw Caroline on Saturday and well, it all came out in the open. We thought it was your idea to go to the Cordoba and now I find out that it wasn’t.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m sorry?” I said, my face turning beet red with the embarrassment of thinking that I had been instrumental in putting her though the mill. “I don’t expect you to accept it, much less forgive me, but what can I say? I’m really sorry. REALLY sorry.”
“Huh!” she said and went on her way.
I stood there, having poured my heart into those few words and was left there to stew. It could have been worse I suppose. She could have hit me or given me a mouthful of abuse, but instead, she just went “huh!” and left me to it. How was I supposed to deal with that?
I felt bad for the rest of the day, trying to hide in the shadows, keep myself to myself and not to think about what I had done to someone who was only trying to include me when she could easily have just left me to my own devices. I owed her a lot and I had stuffed it down the toilet like so much tissue paper.
Back at home (yes, I was now thinking of Ray and Lily’s as my home), I couldn’t think straight. I was more confused now than I have ever been, but this time, I was confused about what to do about someone else. I wanted Mandy to like me, wanted her to be my friend and include me in her life, so I could include her in mine, but now it looked as though that was over and I had to move on.
I spoke to Lily about it.
“If she wants to come back, she will. I think she will, but I don’t know that. You’ll have to wait and see. Don’t try and force it though.” she advised.
I suppose that was the right thing to do, but as with all teenagers, I didn’t want to take forever, I wanted it to be okay now!
Meanwhile, we got back to the matter at hand, which was me and my problems, deciding which side of the fence I was supposed to be on.
Strange little girl
The next day, I waited for Mandy again at the school gates.
When she arrived, she looked a lot less harsh. Was I starting to come off of her ‘ten most hated’ list?
I hoped so.
According to Lily, there was likely to be a time of suffering.
“What’s that?” I asked.
It turned out to be the time (indeterminate in length) that a person who has been scorned, makes the scorner suffer. The length of this suffering is directly proportional or not, to the amount of scorn that was suffered. In some cases, the penance or suffering the scorner has to endure, far outweighs the scorn inflicted.
“Harsh.” I said.
“Then so was what you, Julie and Lisa did. You know you may end up suffering for all three of you, don’t you?”
“Ouch!” I thought as I slowly climbed the stairs to my room.
To calm myself, I decided to indulge myself and changed, once again pulling the outfit from it place in the drawer in its bag and dressed, taking out a magazine and lying on my stomach on the bed, my head propped up on my hands and the magazine in front of me on the pillow.
I wasn’t paying attention when the knock came on my door.
“You decent?”
“Yeah.” I said automatically without looking up and in walked Ray.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is Paul in the loo?” he said. I turned my head, realising that I wasn’t quite what he expected to find and it took a few seconds for the penny to drop. When it did, I don’t know who was more embarrassed: him or me.
I kind of shrieked I think would be the best way to describe the noise that came out of my mouth and rolled off the bed away from the door, landing unceremoniously in a heap by the other side of the bed.
Ray turned and tried to flee when he heard something that possibly sounded like the war-cry of Xena, Warrior Princess, but turned the wrong way and hit the door. He reached for the door-knob, yanked the door and hit himself with it again. His nose was extremely tender after that for about a week.
I wasn’t flavour of the month.
I put my own clothes back on, went to apologise and when I got to the lounge, I could hear Lily sniggering as Ray was recounting the sight he saw laying on my bed when he entered the bedroom.
“It’s not funny Lil, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Oh, come on. Surely it’s up to him; I mean it’s HIS room after all.”
“It’s my house though.”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry. It’s OUR house. I didn’t even realise it was him. Nothing said bloke-in-frock, my brain just read girl.”
I felt a surge of pride I think it was. Whatever, I was bloody pleased since it was what I wanted to believe.
I knocked on the lounge door and the talking stopped.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.” said Lily.
When I got in there, Ray looked a little hurt and Lily still had a smirk.
“I’m sorry Ray.”
“No, my fault.”
“Well, okay. You can argue if you want, but if I was dressed like this, nothing would have happened would it?”
“He’s got a point.” said Lily, the smirk getting bigger.
“I’m going to the shed for a while. I feel outnumbered here.” he said and giving me a fairly wide birth, he sidled out of the door, closing it behind him. Lily and I looked at one another and when we heard the door to the garden closing, we both burst out laughing.
“You changed.”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I thought I’d opt for the safer option.”
“Shame. I’d like to have seen you.”
“I can change back if you’d like.”
“Would you? Anything that can have that effect on Ray I’d like to see.”
I was back in minutes in my outfit.
“Oh my…” said Lily. “I see what he means.”
She sat there, an odd look on her face. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew it wasn’t bad. She kept asking me to turn this way and that and I was happy to oblige. Back out came the writing pad and more notes got scribbled. Looking back, I wonder why I never asked what she was going to do with all those notes, but I don’t know, perhaps I was too wrapped up with the effect that talking to someone was having on me.
“I’d like to take you to see a friend of mine.” she said at last. “But I need er, what do you call yourself when you’re like that? I mean Paul doesn’t fit, does it?”
“I’ve never really given it much thought. I just went with ‘her’, but I don’t know.”
“What about Paula or Pauline. They’re nice and close to your own name.” she asked.
“I don’t think so. I usually dress like this to forget about Paul. He has a really hard time, but I have fun. Well, I did until mum got stuck in. I like Suzanne, but do you think it fits?”
“I think it’s perfect!” she said beaming at me. “Do you think I could take Suzanne to see my friend?”
It was a done deal and I felt really nervous, but excited at the same time. I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t think it would be bad and Lily would look after me.
Back at school and Mandy still hadn’t let me off the hook. I think she found it amusing to walk past and pointedly make me aware of the fact that she wasn’t talking to me. She’d stick her nose in the air and wander past, with this imperious look on her face. I could see she wasn’t angry and I would like to have seen a heading like Paul then Julie, then Lisa at the top so I could see where I was in the ‘suffering’. It hadn’t happened by Friday and I went home for the weekend wondering whether I was ever going to be forgiven.
Friday after school, Lily asked me for my outfit. I was loathed to let her have it as it wasn’t mine to give, but there was a look in her eye when she asked for it and curiosity made me give it to her. I know it sounds weird, but I thought I saw something else, lurking. Somehow I knew though, that it wasn’t being taken away from me as mum would probably have done.
“Please be careful, they’re not mine.” I said, sad to hand them over to anyone.
“I’ll be careful. Is that all of it?” she asked.
“Er, yes.” I lied.
“Where’s the bra? Come on, hand it over.”
“But it’s not even dirty.” I complained.
“All of it.” she said in a more commanding tone. I ran upstairs and brought it down. “You’ll like it better when it’s all clean and fresh.”
But I liked it as it was.
It had a smell about it, a sort of lingering fragrance that I would like to believe came from Lisa, but anyway, it reminded me of my first day. I was a very glum puppy after that.
Saturday afternoon we were to be going to this friend of Lily’s. I was supposed to be going as Suzanne and the closer it got, the more petrified I became. I knew I’d look good since everything would be clean and freshly ironed, but it didn’t take away from the fear that was building up in me.
Friday night was a nightmare, literally. I awoke sweating and breathless. I was chasing through darkened streets that I was familiar with, but wasn’t sure of. It was like being amidst the twists and turns of a ghost train at the fair only it was streets and roads near my school, my old home.
I was searching for something and whichever way I turned there popped a snarling Bridger, Fuller or an angry mother. Shrieks and moans accompanied the ghastly-lit effigies of my most feared foes and I can remember the image of my mother springing forth at the end of a dark alley, with a hideous, cackling laughter as thunder struck and lights flashed like lightening.
The further I went, the narrower the alleys became and more frequently the images appeared, popping up with fangs and teeth like saw blades. The faster I ran, the more my feet felt like I was running through treacle that got thicker and more viscous as I made my way through the maze of alleys and empty streets that just reeked of horror.
Then I caught a sight of a figure in the darkness, its silhouetted form just barely recognisable. Lisa.
I tried to shout, but my throat was dry from the running and nothing more than a hoarse rasp would come out. I ran and as hard as I tried, I only seemed to move at a snails pace, the figure in the background, getting further and further away.
I tried with one last-ditch effort to reach her. I could see her face, mournful and sad, her eyes empty and uncomprehending as I reached out to touch her when another effigy popped up, followed by a second and a third and within the blink of an eye, I was surrounded as Lisa’s form slid backwards into the many shadows.
“NO!” I shouted and sat up, the sweat beading on my forehead and the darkness I opened my eyes to strangely similar to that that had engulfed me in the dream.
The door opened and a soft padding moved across the short space between me and the door. My eyes were shut fast. “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me” was the dream logic that coursed through my brain and I gritted my teeth waiting for the inevitable. A hand touched my head and a voice, sweet and caring asked if I was okay.
It was Lily and I let go of the tension in one gasp that turned into sobbing, clutching her to me and hugging her tight as she whispered soothing sounds, rocking gently back and forth as I drifted back off to sleep.
I was nudged awake by Ray the next morning as he brought in a cup of tea. I blinked away the sleep and tried to recall the dream of last night. He sat beside me on the bed and looked concerned.
“You alright there sport?”
“Yeah, a big groggy is all.” I assured him. He ruffled my hair and I giggled.
“Well, drink that and come and have some breakfast. From what Lil’s told me, you’ve got a busy day ahead when she gets back.”
“Thanks Ray.” I said and sat up looking out over the garden through the open window.
Lily returned and called me into the kitchen. I was in jeans and sweatshirt and she looked my up and down critically.
“That won’t do. I need you smarter than that if we’re to make a good impression on Doctor Whaite this afternoon.”
“Doctor? You said your friend.”
“And she is. She just happens to be a doctor.”
“Oh. Like me and Mandy? She’s a girl and my friend (or she was), but not my girlfriend?”
“Hmm, something like that.” she said smiling. “Anyway, you’re going to have to get out of that and into something decent if you’re going to come with me.”
“But you took my clothes yesterday. Will they be dry?”
“No Paul, I took your friends clothes. These are yours.”
She handed me a carrier and I looked inside. There was a lot of stuff and immediately my eyes filled.
“I don’t know what to say.” I said, the tears starting to flow. “No-one’s ever done this for me before.”
“Then don’t say anything, well not until you have tried it on and like it. Now run along, we don’t have long.”
I was in my room in seconds, leaving rucked and scorched carpeting in my wake.
I sat on the bed and started to go through the clothing while it was still in the bag, but gave up and tipped it all out. There were small packs, large packs and little packs and I didn’t know where to start.
I fished out one of the little ones and opened it. It was a compact. Inside were about ten different colours of eye shadow and in another was some mascara. Another contained foundation and the last of the little ones, contained an assortment of bungees and clips for my hair.
The middle-sized packages contained a five pack of knickers. Noting exotic, just everyday wear, but along with them were tights and two training bras just like the one I had.
The big packages were two skirts, three blouses and a dress and some medium heeled court shoes.
A dress?
I was gobsmacked.
I just sat there for the longest time picking the items up and putting them back down again; scared I’d wrinkle them or something. I became aware of a figure in the doorway and looked up.
“Well?”
“Oh Lily, they’re wonderful. I don’t know what to say.” I gushed, running to her and hugging her tight.
“Hmm. Twice in one day? That’s a first!”
I threw the knickers at her and she ducked out, laughing and telling me to get a move on. I shouted back that I didn’t know what to wear and she just told me that they were mine now, I’d have to make that decision for myself.
I tried on the dress and apart from the fact that I really could have done with being fuller in the hips, it looked wonderful. The shoes went perfectly and were quite comfortable considering I had never worn big heels before and the image in the mirror almost brought me to tears, especially after I had finished the makeup.
I floated downstairs (or it felt like I did) and walked into the lounge. Ray nearly dropped his tea down him and Lily’s mouth opened several times before so much as a squeak came out.
“What do you think?” I asked, giving a little twirl.
“Um, well, you know? It looks alright, I suppose.” said Ray. I scowled at him.
“Can’t you do any better than that?”
“Well, I don’t know what to say.”
“I had that problem too. I can’t believe these are really mine.” I said going a bit giddy. Lily’s mouth was still opening and closing, but there wasn’t a lot coming out.
“You alright?” I asked.
“Mmmphst.” she said
“I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?”
Doctor, doctor
Dr. Rosalind Whaite was a middle-aged woman with a kindly smile and a sign on the front of her house that read Psychiatrist. I froze.
“She’s a psychiatrist!” I said, not moving an inch more.
“She’s also my friend.” said Lily patiently. “You DO trust me don’t you?”
I nodded and with fear and trepidation I went into the imposing Victorian house.
“Lily!” said the doctor. “Nice to see you. Who’s this?”
“This is Suzanne.” said Lily. A thrill ran up and down my spine like the cold fingers of a hundred spiders at the sound of that name. “She’s the girl I spoke to you about.”
“Well don’t just stand there, girl, come in.”
I sat down on one of those big Chesterfields that immediately engulfed me and I knew that without help, I was probably stuck there.
I thought that Lily wanted me to meet this doctor and was surprised that after nearly an hour, all I’d said was “Hello” and had spent the rest of the time on my own. Oh, it was comfortable enough, but I was surprised that I had to get all dressed up for this, just to sit in the waiting room or whatever it was.
“Suzie, can you come in?” called Lily. Another thrill went down my spine this time and with a lot of farting noises from the large sofa, I managed to extricate myself and wandered over to the office, smoothing the skirt of my dress en-route.
“Please, sit down Suzanne. Or do you prefer Suzie like Lily just called you?”
“Either is fine. I guess it depends how bad you think I’ve been.” Lily and the doctor laughed and the doctor called me sharp. That was nice, but I was still no closer to finding out what I was there for.
She asked me a lot of questions and after about twenty minutes, she turned to Lily and said:
“I can’t see what you’ve brought her here for. She seems a perfectly well-adjusted young lady. Perhaps a little underdeveloped, but there’s nothing wrong with her.”
“I’m glad you said that. It will help Paul no end.”
“Who’s Paul?”
“That would be me.” I said and Lily laughed.
The doctor frowned. “Is this some sort of a joke?”
“Not at all Ros, This is the boy I’ve been telling you about.”
“My word!” she said. “Is it really?”
We left shortly afterwards, but not before I was swallowed whole again by the huge Chesterfield.
Lily chuckled almost all the way back, much to my annoyance. I thought that if she was going to laugh at something, she could at least have clued me in.
“Your friend Mandy lives near here, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. Next street along. Why?”
“I thought you might want to go say hello.”
“Like this?!” I yelped.
“Why not? You fooled Rosalind. No-one will know. Ring if you need picking up.”
“She might not be in though.”
“Then I’ll wait.”
I was nervous as I rang the door bell and even more nervous when her mum answered.
“Hello?”
“Is Mandy there?”
“Yes. Just a minute, I’ll get her. Er, who are you?”
“It’s Suzanne, from school.” I replied, still getting those tingles at the sound of my new name.
I waved to Lily and she waved back and drove off. When I turned round, there was Mandy, a look of total incomprehension on her face. I smiled.
“Hi Mandy.” I said cautiously.
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Paul makes up with Mandy and starts work...
Thanks to my friend Kris who has helped enormously with this.
Chapter 3
Let's stay together
“BLOODY-HELL!” she exclaimed and threw her arms round me. “You look… Blimey… What’s…? Come in… holy shit!”
“Mandy! Mind your language!” said a voice from another room.
“Sorry dad!”
Giggling, we piled up to her room.
I felt elation that I had not felt in a long time, finding that Mandy was not responsible for putting me in that God-awful position with Greg Bridger at the Cordoba; it was just a complete misunderstanding. I guess it was just a lack of understanding and patience, typical of a bunch of hormone-driven teenagers.
Mandy was looking at me kind of strange a lot of the time.
Was it wonder or something else?
Look at me. I was back with someone who I suppose could be best described as my best friend and there I was trying to find fault with everything she did. Mind you, after having put up with the back-stabbing at home, the name-calling, bullying and everything else at school, it’s not surprising. Not only that, but I had just turned up in a dress for God’s sake, I had to expect some strange looks, even from Mandy.
We chatted like nothing had happened and I was so pleased that Lily had brought me here although I felt a little odd not having the others here too. Perhaps that rift could be fixed as well, I mean, I thought I had burnt my bridges with Mandy yet here I was.
“Hey, I got that new Blancmange album last week. Wanna hear it?”
“Go for it!” I said and as it played, we went through Mandy’s magazines, looking at pictures of Bowie, David Sylvian, Steve Strange and bands such as Soft Cell, Thompson Twins, Yazoo (the Alison Moyet version) and were comparing fashions and so forth.
It wasn’t long after that the makeup came out and I was back in my element. While I applied the makeup, I recounted what had happened, bringing Mandy right bang up to date with the ongoing saga of Paul/Suzanne.
“You left home? Cool!”
“It’s not like that.” I said. “I got so much stick after you lot made me over last time that I decided I didn’t belong there. Mum said to Lily and Ray that if they wanted me, they could have me.” I tried to sound off-hand about it, but it still caught in my throat.
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Poor Lily was in tears. I don’t think she likes my mum. Don’t think she ever has. She certainly doesn’t now anyway. They’ve just been SO nice. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay them.” I could feel that lump in my throat getting bigger and I tried to blink away the tears that were threatening to blast forth and ruin my makeup (don’t worry, I’m slowly getting used to it).
“I really missed you all.” I said, trying to deflect the emotional avalanche that was happening.
“Me too.” she said taking my hand and squeezing it.
“Are you going to have a sex change?” Mandy asked. Straight to the point; that’s my Mandy! It got my mind off of the emotional rollercoaster anyway.
“Honestly? I don’t know. If you’d have said to me a month ago that I would be standing here now, in a dress, heels and doing your makeup, I’d have laughed at you first, then shit myself, but here I am and it doesn’t feel odd, in fact, quite the reverse. It’s only when I think about it that I start to get cold feet.”
“I can understand that.” she said. “What about boyfriends?”
Boys?
Hmm. I didn’t think that’d work.
I had been accused of ‘looking’ at the other boys in the changing rooms, but it wasn’t true, well not in that way anyway. Being near to boys was for me, a threatening experience. Not one other than Ray had been nice and thanks to Mr Georgeson, it felt like even the older ones, the ones that had ‘grown up’ so to speak, appeared to be as duplicitous and untrustworthy as the kids I had been forced to associate with.
About eighteen months or two years before this, boys in my year started to develop hairy armpits and legs, muscles, facial hair and ‘pubes’ and were generally getting bigger. Many of them had had their voices change, but not me.
I HAD looked at the other boys, but it wasn’t ‘checking them out’, it was because they had sprouted and I hadn’t, so I was making comparisons. I was trying to figure when this was going to happen to me, why was my Willy so much smaller than theirs, would mine get like that, would I look like that too and why didn’t I already?
I spoke to mum about this and all she could say was “don’t worry it’ll happen to you sooner or later”. In the meantime of course it had happened or was happening to the other kids and I was getting left behind. Thankfully, I wasn’t alone, but by the time I had reached the last year of school, I was the only one whose voice hadn’t broken or who hadn’t developed physically and I was understandably worried, because suddenly I wasn’t the same as the others and wasn’t getting treated the same either.
It had been a painful period and I really couldn’t see myself getting romantically involved with one of those very people who had made the last two years of my life hell and turned me into a nervous wreck.
“I don’t think so.” I said finally, grimacing at the thought. “I’m really into Lisa and I thought she was into me too, but I haven’t seen her since that day.”
“Lisa?! I didn’t think she was into girls.”
“Lisa? Into girls? I’m not a girl.”
“Aren’t you? You look pretty girly from where I’m sitting. Hmm. Let me see, dress, high heels — nice, makeup; definitely girl. Even when you weren’t dressed this way, I thought you were really a girl, leastways, more girl than boy.”
I sat down. I was too wasn’t I; more girl than boy?
This was something I hadn’t thought about.
If I was supposed to be a girl and I felt that was the probably truth of the matter, was I supposed to be into guys? Wasn’t that a prerequisite for being a girl?
I certainly hoped not!
I mean I still dreamt of Lisa, the only girl I have ever kissed and straight away, into my head came the memory of her; the softness of her touch, her scent and well I didn’t know what it was about her or any other woman, but to forego that for a spiky-faced, hairy, inconsiderate MAN?
I didn’t think so.
I really couldn’t reconcile the concept of changing what appealed to me. If Lisa and I were not destined to be anything other than friends then I could imagine other women appealing to me, but not men (as girly as some of them looked at the moment and I was thinking of Marylyn and Boy George et al).
Not exactly my cup of tea.
I felt odd. It was one thing to show myself to others as a girl, to behave like a girl (which frankly I seemed to have been anyway), but quite another if it meant I had to include male partners or a husband figure. If that was the case then the deal was off.
It was late by the time we finished and Mandy’s mum let me phone Lily. I hoped I wasn’t being too much of a nuisance by asking her to come and get me, but somehow, I didn’t feel particularly safe walking back at this time of night.
“How did it go?” asked Lily.
“Alright. I’m surprised that she seems to have accepted it so readily. Even I can’t quite get to grips with it and there are some things that scare me.”
“Such as?”
“Boys for one.” I said.
“That’s something you’ll have to talk to the good doctor about, but if it’s any consolation, you completely fooled her.”
“Is that good?”
“I think so. She said she could spot someone with transgender issues from about half a mile. She didn’t see YOU coming at all.” she said chuckling.
“Transgender?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s where someone crosses the line between one gender and the other.”
I’d crossed the line alright. Most boys would find it hard to even touch women’s underwear (unless there was actually a girl inside it) under most circumstances and there I was finding it hard to not to.
“What happens now then?”
“That depends largely on you; whether you want to stay as Suzie or Paul.”
“Yeah, but it’s a one way ticket isn’t it?”
“Eventually, yes, but that part of things is a long way off yet. You really are going to have to give this some thought before you go ahead with anything. You’ll be expected to live as a girl for a period of time before you can consider that as an option.”
“Yes, but I will have to won’t I?”
“Not all do. Some live on the outside as a girl and still retain the male sex organs.”
“They do?” I asked, wondering why anyone would want that. Either they were a girl or a boy weren’t they?
I had so much to think about, but it looked as though going ahead with Suzie was the best thing. I felt a lot more comfortable as Suzie than I did as Paul, but then that wasn’t difficult.
School’s out FOR EVER! (I know, but it’s a perennial and seems to pop up every year)
The last week at school was much less fraught than I had expected, the bonus being that I didn’t have to be there anymore after my last exam. That meant I had Friday off and fortunately, so did Mandy.
I spent that day as Suzie and Mandy and I went round the shops of Brighton We got eyed up by boys, which surprisingly I found thrilling. Being close to them wasn’t quite so much fun though and I confess I had my eye on more than one of the girls, not the boys.
They’re so different. I didn’t realise how big a gulf there was between me and the boy I thought I was supposed to be until that moment and although Mandy was in her element, I must have come across a bit standoffish for which Mandy was peeved to say the least.
We ended up having a sandwich in a crowded little café and were chatting away when I saw someone go past the window.
Lisa.
I got up and charged as fast as my heels would allow, outside and up the street, leaving Mandy staring after me, mouth open full of cheese and pickle.
“Lisa!” I shouted and the figure stopped, looked round, but looked right through me. She was with her parents I think (who didn’t stop) and when I caught up with her, she was shocked.
“Er, oh, it’s you!” she said.
The response was not what I had expected, nor what I had hoped for.
I was hoping for a fifties film type thing where the star-crossed lovers see each other across a crowded railway station platform and run to each other in slow motion while dramatic music builds up in the background. Finally they fight through the crowds and catch each other in a passionate embrace.
You get the picture?
Suffice it to say “er, oh, it’s you” didn’t really have the same impact.
“You’re looking well.” I said and tried to retain some semblance of enthusiasm even though it was obvious that things were not as I hoped they would be. It seemed that she had had more of an affect on me than I had had on her.
“Yeah, you too. How have you been?” she asked, looking a little uncomfortable.
“It would take too long to tell you, but I don’t live at home anymore and things are much better now thanks.”
“You look er, good.” she said and I tried to see whether that was saying that I looked well presented or I looked GOOD (nudge, nudge), but couldn’t tell. “What are you doing down here?”
“Mandy and I are just window shopping. I was kind of hoping we could get together, you know like we used to round at Mandy’s? You, me, Mandy, Julie and Caroline; just like old times.”
“Maybe. Gotta go.” she said and looked round to see her parents half way up the street and waving with a look on her face that I couldn’t read, she ran off after them. “See ya!”
To say I felt deflated would be a very conservative way of describing what I really felt as I plodded back to the café. I could see Mandy standing outside the door looking up the road towards me.
“Lisa?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“How is she?”
“Fine I suppose.”
“It’s not the same anymore is it?”
“No.” I said, and I couldn’t help it, I was starting to cry.
Can’t get used to losing you
That feeling of rejection after the indifference of Lisa’s response didn’t go away. I was, I suppose, the epitome of a hopeless romantic (although I preferred “new romantic” as the term then was), offering more melodrama than a Bette Davis movie and moping round the house like a fart in a trance.
I questioned being Suzanne at all. After all, it was Lisa’s affirmation of liking what she saw on the day of the Cordoba that made me go along with it all in the first place. The kiss in the toilets just made me feel if that was what being a girl was going to be like then I didn’t ever want to change, a fact that was strengthened by the kiss when she left me at mum’s.
The trouble was of course, it didn’t last.
I didn’t know whether Suzanne was the real me or whether she was just an excuse to hold on to the memory of those two kisses; the only emotional releases I had had in my relatively short life that had truly made my toes curl.
I reverted to dressing as Paul and Lily didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was disappointed even concerned. Even Mandy, who didn’t seem to express a preference one way or the other, appeared to be more than a little reticent around me and that just served to confuse me more.
“Right young lady.” said Lily after the third day. “Come here this minute. We have some things to talk about.”
Young Lady?
Did she just call me Young Lady? I was Paul wasn’t I?
Regardless of the mode of address, I went obediently and sat as once again, Lily took out her pad.
“What is it?” she asked. I didn’t know what she meant. What was what?
“What is it that’s eating you?”
Ah!
It didn’t take long before I was blurting everything out in one huge great gush of words, sniffs, sobs and gesticulations. Lily’s eyes went wide as this torrent of “stuff” just poured out, crashing through the space between us and bombarding her senses.
By the time I stopped, Lily just sat there looking shell-shocked.
“Oh.” she said.
“Yes and now I don’t know if she loves me or not, if I’m supposed to be Paul or Suzie and… oh Lily, what do I do?” I cried.
Hugs came first.
Having spent years thinking that Lily didn’t like me, she was the one person now who could deliver a hug or a cuddle that just left me feeling warm and snug, loved and content. Had I four legs and a soft furry coat, I would have been purring loudly.
“Alright then. I can’t tell you what to do and you obviously have conflicting opinions about what or who you are, but you need to decide, for your own sake one way or the other. These feelings will not go away otherwise.”
Lily said that at my age, relationships often didn’t last long, however much we wanted them to, so I had to face the fact that Lisa may well have been doing a little “experimenting”, seeing what it might be like to be with another girl and since I wasn’t a girl physically (regardless of how I may have appeared), it satisfied her desire to see herself with a girl by being with a boy who looked like a girl, as she was comfortable with the boy part.
That seemed harsh. I knew it was only a hypothesis, but I couldn’t believe that she would have done that to me. Everything else pointed away from that, but then what did I know?
It was my choice to believe otherwise and I felt there was more between Lisa and I than just a bit of helping out. The kisses for a start (they still make me go all goose-bumpy just thinking about them), the almost kiss during makeup, the looks. There was so much that wasn’t said. I found a happy medium in my head and although I had outwardly accepted the fact that Lisa and I were not going to happen, I chose quietly, not to believe it was so.
It was true that every time things got a bit awkward, Paul would resurface and I guess that because I had been Paul for the thicker end of seventeen years, he was what I thought I should be. It was his insecurity that kept bubbling to the surface, asking me whether I thought that turning all girly was going to make everything better and I had to wonder because right when the question was posed, things weren’t alright.
Meeting Lisa outside the café and being treated so indifferently had hit me hard and I guess that being emotionally inexperienced didn’t help, but I thought that she and I really had something that was ‘special’, worth persisting with. As I said earlier, even if we didn’t become intimate, then at least we’d be friends. After that last episode, I didn’t see either happening.
As a result, Paul popped up once again to question the point of being Suzanne, who up till then had been my happy place, but was it just hiding? Was I just burying my head in the metaphoric sand or sweeping an awkward childhood under the rug as it were? Was I just hiding in Suzanne to try and make Paul’s problems disappear or was Paul hiding from Suzanne?
Then it hit me.
As Paul, I was often mistaken for a girl. Perhaps it was my slight build, my soft features, long hair. I didn’t know, but one thing was for sure, I never got mistaken for a boy when I was Suzanne. Not even in jeans, without fake breasts or makeup.
I came to the conclusion that what other people were seeing may not have been Suzanne, but whether I liked it or not, they weren’t seeing Paul or more pointedly, a boy.
Phew! That was one heck of a conclusion to come to! Scared the pants off me I can tell you.
I made a choice and whilst it scared me to death, it scared me in a good way. As Paul, being scared meant bruising, detention, humiliation and worse. For Suzie, scared meant wondering about the future. It wasn’t hard to make a choice between being scared for life and limb and being scared because the future was an unknown.
Just what I always wanted
I was starting to find my feet again and was getting back into being Suzanne, which confused Mandy. She couldn’t quite decide whether I was a girl or girl trying to be a boy. I quickly pointed out that for her, being a girl was all she’d known and came naturally, but for me, not only did I have to learn how to be a girl, but also how NOT to be a boy. That seemed to do the trick.
When I went to the good doctor Whaite, all the trials and tribulations had to come out again. I have to say that I must have taken a rather over simplified viewpoint on being either Suzanne or Paul since once I’d got it squared up in my head, it became quite easy; logical. That was until she asked me to explain things.
I thought it was simple, but you’d never have guessed with all the questions she asked.
“Are you going to stick to it this time?”
“Yes.” I said with my most affirmative voice. “I don’t know which way round I am, whether I’m a boy who’s really a girl or a boy who’s trying to hide from himself by looking like a girl, but I intend to find out.”
“In that case, might I suggest you make the name Suzanne permanent?”
“I can do that?”
“Most certainly. You’re over sixteen. It will help in establishing your new identity too.”
Where I’d currently got to felt right on so many levels, I actually had a feeling of positive anticipation about the future. So much so, that I found myself walking around in an almost permanent state of wonder. Suzanne was going to be a real, living, breathing person.
It had taken a good few weeks of intensive talking to and a number of object lessons to get me there, but for the first time, I felt like I was doing something right and regardless of what mum had to say or anyone else for that matter, I was following my heart and my head, not someone else’s.
Speaking of mum, I received a phone call from her shortly after making the request for my name to be changed by deed-poll to Suzanne Paula Turner (I thought the ‘Paula’ touch would be nice, a mark of respect to who I used to be).
The name didn’t go down well with mum though. She was still convinced that I was being led around by “that bloody Lily and Ray”. At least it wasn’t my fault this time, but I was still saddened by the fact that everything seemed to her to be someone else’s fault all the time.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” she said and the phone went dead.
I stood there looking at the receiver in my hand. Were we just cut off or had I just been excommunicated?
Despite mum’s apparent lack of understanding, I thought the phone call went quite well. I wasn’t expecting her to be rational. It was easy for me to understand, but for someone who wasn’t the best at being a loving and understanding parent, I had expected far less. I had almost anticipated sparks flying out of the phone and a mushroom cloud, so I suppose, yes, it went well.
The next thing to do was to get Suzanne Turner a job.
I liked that; Suzanne Paula Turner. Somehow, making that my REAL name made me all tingly again.
Once again, I was beholden to Ray for this. He had refurbished a beauty salon in the centre of Hove and Gwen, the owner, was a friend of his. He got her to see me and as he said, the rest was up to me. So taking the photos taken of the girl’s makeup that I did, I went to see her.
It wasn’t well paid and she could only manage part-time for me, but after talking for some time and showing her the photos, she agreed to give me a trial.
I was more surprised than anyone that I actually got the job and whilst it was only part time to begin with, Gwen said that if I fitted in, there was the possibility of going full-time and an apprenticeship to boot. I think cloud nine was passed and the one I was on had fairly large calibre double figures!
It was just as well that Lily and Ray didn’t want any money for me staying in their house.
“All in good time.” they said. “Right now, let’s get you on your feet.”
So I spent the next couple of months working at the salon and soon was given the opportunity to work there full time. I jumped at the chance although Mandy was a little peevish about me continuing to work on Saturday’s. Not that I minded. I was still a ‘stick-in-the-mud’ when it came to boys and I felt rotten for cramping Mandy’s style.
Once I got to know the customers and found that most of them were alright, I started to become a little less of a shrinking violet. One or two of them I thought needed a punch up the bracket, as they wouldn’t let Steve the stylist near them on account of him being gay. They were however happy to let me work on them as they had no idea I wasn’t what I appeared to be. I was only washing hair though, not cutting.
What I appeared to be...
It wasn’t what I was. It was all a facade. I wasn’t actually a girl. I was a boy in girl’s clothes and was beginning to think that this would never change. How ever much I looked in the mirror and no matter how much I told myself otherwise, I was still a boy and not a proper one at that.
I had heard the other boys talking about ‘wanking’, ‘tossing-off’ and ‘hand-jobs’, but in truth, I had no idea what they were talking about. The slow development had left me with something that would occasionally ‘rise to the occasion’ as it were, but well never for long enough to do anything with and as for orgasms… I’d never had one.
Watching Steve working, I could see that I was not like him. It wasn’t sexual orientation I had a problem with, it was MY orientation. The way he lisped and minced around, the limp wrist. It wasn’t female, more a parody of female. He seemed to take a few key feminine mannerisms and enlarge them, like a drag queen, larger than life.
I hoped to God that that wasn’t how I came across.
I was strangely happy to know that I wasn’t gay, well not in a man-man way (that all seemed particularly yucky) and I was convinced that if Dr. Whaite found out I was still attracted to women or girls, she might just say “stay as you are then” and I didn’t know whether or not to tell her.
I was pleasantly surprised when on my next visit to the good doctor, she suggested starting hormone therapy.
“You’re working now, your name is officially Suzanne Turner and you are part of the community. I see no reason to delay the next step. In fact I would suggest we did, before you start down the road of male puberty. You’re uncommonly late in this and under the circumstances it’s likely to work in our favour.”
“What’s hormone therapy?” I asked. I knew basically what hormones were, both men and women had them and I knew that the males had testosterone. I had heard this term bandied about when some of the bigger boys at school were getting rowdy.
“There’s too much testosterone in here.” Sally George had said. The girls all laughed as they left the room to stand out in the corridor and the boys all went “Huh?” Typical!
It transpired that I was to be given female hormones to make my body feminine.
Holy shit!
That was it. I was going to be changed and I felt guilty because I wasn’t telling Dr. Whaite the whole truth.
“Er, does this mean I’ve got to start liking boys?” I asked in a small voice. I don’t think anything has ever frightened me more than the concept of being sexually aroused by the same group of animals that spent their lives making me miserable at school.
“If you want.” she said in an offhand way.
“You mean I don’t have to?”
“You may find that your attraction changes as a result of the hormones, but sexual orientation isn’t the same as preference.”
“It’s not?”
“God Lord, no. Quite a number of transsexuals are like you. They prefer females and it stays that way. Some change with the hormones and become female with the desire to be with members of the opposite sex, well opposite to their new identity anyway.”
I was asked to drop my knickers and was given an injection.
I hate injections. “This won’t hurt” they say, but it always does. Lily was given a prescription for some pills or capsules which I was to take daily.
I asked what this was and the doctor said that these would help my body to change, to take on the appearance of a female’s body. It wouldn’t happen quickly, but because I had still not entered puberty and was still relatively young, this was likely to be quicker than others. I would start to develop breasts, broader hips, slimmer waist more feminine features etc.
“Wow! Breasts?” I asked.
Lily rolled her eyes and shook her head and doctor Whaite jokingly asked whether this was such a good idea.
I was well on the road to becoming what I hoped would be what I was supposed to be. It was at that point that something in me changed. Suddenly, I felt very relaxed, very calm and I don’t know whether it was a result of the injection, but it felt like the boy in me said goodbye for the last time.
Of course, no amount of injections or pills were going to get rid of that one boy part, I would need surgery for that, but the rest of me felt one hundred percent female. It was like one of those times when the mind goes ‘click’ and you just know that something is right.
“When will I start seeing results?” I said, wanting to be like other girls I had seen that didn’t look like they had one vital statistic for every point on their body from top to bottom.
“Probably in about three months, maybe sooner.” said the doctor and then ran me through the general time-frame of how my body would react to the hormonal treatment, which according to her, would be about two years.
It seemed so long, so far away, but I thought that at least I was moving in the right direction. I may have been wearing the uniform of a girl up until then, but hopefully it wouldn’t be long until I actually looked like one too — properly.
Bring it on…
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The final chapter.
Suzie goes to college...
Heartfelt thanks to Kristina L S for helping me through this one. She's more help than she'll admit.
Chapter 4
Senses working overtime
I hadn’t heard from mum since the last phone call, which I considered a success because I didn’t get yelled at. Really though, I was angry with her for not listening. I know by that time I should have been used to that kind of response, but still it hurt.
Lily and Dr. Whaite had pointed out that it’s often more difficult for the parents to accept the kind of decision I was making, but assured me that given time, she would probably come round.
I desperately wanted mum to at least acknowledge what I was doing and listen this time, not just give me the “I can’t deal with this right now” line. I dialled the number. I suppose I was hoping she wouldn’t be in.
“Hi mum.” I said brightly. “It’s Suzie.”
“Who?” That wasn’t the best of starts and despite my initial reluctance to phone mum, I wanted or perhaps needed to make her aware of what was going on; what I was going through
“Your son. At least I am for the time being anyway.”
“Oh, Paul it’s you.”
“No, it’s Suzie, er, Suzanne.” I corrected. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that my treatment is going well and I have a job and...”
“So what’s all stuff about Suzanne then?”
“It’s my name. I told you last time.”
“I thought you were joking.”
“No, it’s real alright. I’ve got the paperwork and everything.” The line went quiet for a few moments.
“So who are you now?”
“Suzanne Paula Turner.” It still gave me a shiver. Mmmm.
“You’re mad. I bet you’re only doing this because of Ray and Lily. You wouldn’t be involved in all this nonsense had it not been for them. Would you jump off a cliff if they told you to?” she asked.
That stung. For whatever reason, she still thought that I was incapable of making a decision on my own. Curious when I came to think that she was perfectly happy to leave me in charge of the brats while she and fart-face went out.
“Don’t be silly, of course I wouldn’t, but then they’re not asking me to do that are they?” I said. I could feel tears forming in my eyes and that obligatory lump in the throat. “Anyway, it’s not nonsense. My psychiatrist suggested it.”
“Psychiatrist?” she almost yelled. “What the bloody-hell do you need a psychiatrist for?”
“So that I can become Suzanne physically as well as in name. I DID tell you.”
“Are you insane?” she asked, her voice going up a couple of semitones.
“Actually no. According to Dr. Whaite, I’m perfectly sane. I have what’s termed as Gender Dysphoria. It means that I’m a girl in a boy’s body, so we decided to put that right.”
“Put what right? There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Actually there is. Inside, I feel like I’m a girl, but on the outside, I’m a boy. If that’s not bad enough, my boy stuff doesn’t work properly and I haven’t even started going through puberty, so the doctor has put me on hormones.”
“Hormones? For Christ’s sake Paul.”
“It’s Suzanne mum and like it or not, it’s my legal name, please use it. Anyway, my body is still that of a teenage boy. I need those to make my body right; to be a girl.”
“Of course you’ve got a boy’s body. You’re a BOY for crying out loud! It’s that bloody Ray and Lily isn’t it; filling your head with all this idiocy. I knew this would happen.”
“Firstly, it was my decision and secondly, Ray and Lily are not in any way to blame. In fact, they have been wonderful and supportive, which is more than I can say for you.”
“Why you disrespectful little shit.”
“Me? I’m not the one using swear words am I? Why can’t you just accept that I need to be on the outside what I know I am on the inside. It’s only hormones at the moment, I don’t expect I will be able to get surgery for at least a year maybe two, depending on whether I can afford it of course.”
“SURGERY?!” Her voice went up a full octave and was making the phone crackle, not to mention my ears.
“Yes, surgery, now would you please stop shouting? I’ve thought about this a lot. I’ve had God knows how much counselling and both my psychiatrist and I think that it’s for the best. I’ve basically been Suzanne for the last three months now and I want it to be permanent.”
“Look, you need to stop all this silliness and come home. I need you here. I can’t do anything with you over there.”
“But there’s nothing for you to do. I moved out in the first place because we weren’t getting along. You didn’t like my friends, you wouldn’t talk to me, hug me or be a mother to me. You never once asked me about school and even when I was being bullied it was seemingly my own fault. You don’t have time for me, mum and my being Suzanne isn’t going to make that any better. This is a very big step for me and it’s serious. I am what I am and all I want you to do is please understand that.”
“I can’t accept that Paul, it’s not natural.”
“It’s Suzanne or Suzie for the last time and I assure you, it’s perfectly natural.” I said in my most reasonable tone, though I could feel steam coming out of my ears as the temperature rose. “It’s far more common than you would imagine and it’s certainly not unnatural.”
It went downhill from there.
Nothing I said would convince her. What I was doing was nothing more than rectifying a technical glitch in the build phase of my life. Somehow wires got crossed and I wound up being something I shouldn’t.
I imagine that if I not had such an oppressive time at school and home, I might have accepted Paul for longer. In all honesty though, I don’t think that the track I was on could have been termed anything other than inevitable as agent Smith would say, but in the here and now, mum’s words cast a big, black shadow of doubt over all I was doing.
The apparent calmness disappeared once I had put the phone down. I was shaking, angry, confused and upset. I went up to my room and collapsed on the bed. The image of a safety net being pulled out from underneath me came into my head and I started to panic.
Paul was being stripped from me and the safety net that had been there for “if things go wrong, go back to being Paul” was no more. Not only that, but neither was mum. I was beginning to see that all too clearly.
I was being unreasonable I know. She in truth had never been there for me since she remarried. I guess I was asking a lot for her to suddenly have time for me and accept the changes I was going through all in one go, but she was my mother after all’s said and done.
It all seemed so simple in Dr. Whaite’s office with the comfort and encouragement from Lily and the doctor herself, but I found I was on my own at this point and it felt like I was stepping into a black hole with no idea of what was on the other side.
Lily knocked softly on my door and asked to come in.
“It’s all very real now isn’t it?” she said.
“Oh Lily.” I blubbed. “I think I’ve made a BIG mistake.”
“Why?”
“What if mum’s right? What if Suzanne is all wrong? I don’t know if I’ve made the right decision.”
“Your mum didn’t understand, did she?”
“No.”
“I know this may be hard, but you might have to face the fact that she may never understand. It’s up to you of course, but you have to do what’s right for you, not her.”
“I know.” I said dejectedly.
Lily was right. It was my life and I had to live it the way I thought was right, not in a way that was convenient to mum.
The panic settled and as soon as I went back to work, I was right as rain.
Gwen was in a minor state of panic too. Trends were going away from the traditional hair salon to something that was more ‘unisex’. She was in a bit of a panic since it was only a short while ago that she had the place refurbished. Still, changing the overall colour scheme from its current early seventies lipstick pink accents and seating to a more modern cream, black and white would not take that much.
The salon was quite big and was divided into two sections, one larger than the other. The larger section was for the ladies as one wall was a row of static hairdryers with a pink vinyl seat beneath, a small table or shelf between each chair had copies of popular magazines to keep the women occupied whilst waiting for their hair to dry. These were more or less redundant nowadays with the modern methods of hairstyling, going a long way to making the roller and set obsolete.
“After Ray redid this place for me, I couldn’t get the customers from under those quick enough.” she said looking at the empty row of hairdryers. “Now, I have trouble getting anyone under them in the first place. Perhaps it IS time for a change.”
Gwen was a big woman, about five feet four tall and five feet five round with a huge bosom and a smile that never seemed to leave her face. She was always impeccably turned out and set an example to all of us. It was mainly her example that prompted me to take a real pride in my own appearance.
Apart from me, the only full-timer was Steve and as I said before, he was gay. To be honest, it was only a couple of the customers who got uppity about him, the others just saw him for what he was — a typical hairdresser. It wasn’t long before he and I were getting on famously, mainly because I couldn’t believe how outrageous he could be, oh and I liked him.
Frances and Beth were two women who came in usually in the mornings as they both had children and they dealt with the shampoo, set and blue-rinse brigade that was thankfully a dying breed. The styles were changing and their time was being taken up more with winding perm rods or pulling hair through those unbelievably uncomfortable rubber caps for highlighting or streaks.
A salon makeover was not far away and I wondered what my role in it would be or whether there was one for me at all.
I needn’t have worried.
It wasn’t long before my body responded to the hormones. My nipples were swollen and very sensitive. I had inadvertently knocked them a couple of times and nearly ended up hanging from the ceiling by my finger nails (they’re my own by the way).
The bra helped, it kept them snug and stopped them from rubbing on my blouses and stuff. I left it off one day and within half an hour I was putting it back on again. They weren’t large but if I jumped or tried to run, I KNEW they were there. Lily assured me that this tenderness was only temporary and the bounce was just something I’d have to get used to. She couldn’t help smiling at that and I smiled back as I looked forward to not feeling like my senses were working overtime.
I had some problems with tears, which just seemed to want to switch on for no apparent reason and I’d have to go and sit somewhere while I bawled my eyes out, but it just meant I had to take more makeup with me just in case.
For a while, I thought I was going loopy. Everything was bringing tears to my eyes. Even the demise of Wily Coyote made me cry, especially the one with the spring, but I was assured that like the production of breasts, this was just another by-product of the hormones and would settle down to at least a more acceptable level.
Love is a battlefield
Gwen had a plan and it even involved Ray.
The ‘barber’s’ side of the shop was to be turned into a beauty salon and the main salon was going to become unisex instead. It was a big step for the salon and a big step for Gwen.
My part in it all was to go to college and learn how to be a beautician.
In no time at all, I was attending college one day a week and the first day was a complete jaw-dropper.
Brighton as a town had a reputation for being cosmopolitan and I was shocked by just HOW cosmopolitan, not only in racial mix, but preferential too. I had only been in the college for about an hour when I had seen several Boy Georges umpteen Siouxies, Lord alone knows how many Nick Rhodes’ and more John Taylor’s, Jim Kerr’s and George Michael’s than you could shake a fair-sized stick at.
It did help me to relax though. Suddenly I didn’t feel I was quite the weirdo my mum seemed to think I was. If she ever saw inside that place, she’d have had a fit!
About three weeks into the course and I was having the time of my life. Okay, I didn’t associate with any of the people there on a social basis, but I was with people who had a much more “live and let live” attitude than I had been used to at school and at break-times we would all go to the common room, get coffees or other drinks, maybe a snack and have a good laugh.
We were lined up to get coffees from the machine when out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone I recognised, or thought I did. By the time I had turned round though, the person was gone and I nearly lost my place in the queue craning my neck trying to see where they were.
I couldn’t have been. Not here.
By the end of break, I had completely forgotten all about it.
The following week, I was on my own. I was the only day release student and the full-time were off at some meeting or another. I went into a largely empty common room.
I had my notes in my hand and rather stupidly, was trying to read whilst aiming somewhat haphazardly at the coffee machine when I bumped into someone.
“Sorry.” I said without looking up.
“That’s alright… Hey, don’t I know you?”
It was a girl’s voice and I did recognise it, but I was still glued to skin types and treatments for oiliness, greasiness and conversely, dryness for an up-coming test. I dragged my eyes from the badly copied script and looked up.
“Lisa?”
“Wow! It’s good to see you.” she said. That wasn’t what I expected, especially after the indifference in our last encounter.
“You too.” I said as she gave me a hug.
I couldn’t help it. My skin felt like it was tingling all over, a feeling I hadn’t had since the last time we were that close.
“How are you keeping?” she asked.
“You know, working — the usual.” I laughed, trying to sound offhand about what was really happening. I had been in her company for a matter of a few moments and all the hard work I had put in getting her out of my mind was rapidly coursing its way down the proverbial toilet.
“You look… wow!.” she said and automatically, I blushed, going a deep crimson colour and feeling my cheeks getting almost hot enough to spontaneously combust. Plus, that feeling inside that had started at the hug, like going over a hump-back bridge too fast in a car, became almost all-consuming.
“Thanks. So do you, but then I don’t have to tell you that.” I said, blushing even more at my mouth going into warp drive and not taking my brain with it.
We stood side by side at the coffee machine while I fumbled with my purse for some change, neither of us saying anything. I was finding it difficult to think and get change out at the same time.
I managed to get the right money and was pushing it into the machine when from beside or behind me, I heard someone, a girl, talking.
“Hi sweetheart, have you been waiting long?” she said. I looked as I lifted the flap for my drink and could see someone draped all over Lisa. It looked as though she was kissing her cheek, but I couldn’t quite see. I only caught one part of a black leather biker-style jacket with a holographic badge on one of the lapels.
“No. I’ve only just got here.” Lisa replied. I was wondering what I was supposed to do, but as it happened, Lisa and friend were not into hanging around or goodbyes… or “see ya rounds”.
“Ready?” said the friend.
“Yeah.” said Lisa and still with this other girl all over her like a cheap suit, they wandered off. I watched as they strolled across the common room and had I not been paying attention, I would have missed two things.
The first was a very slight wave Lisa gave me along with the second thing; an equally slight smile as she looked back at me.
Once again, I went from being focussed to being a bag of nerves. I had only known anything similar to love once and she was it. Why did it have to be something like a war zone?
How I made it home that evening without making a complete fool of myself I’ll never know, but I was sure after that that Lisa WAS into girls after all and I was still into Lisa.
Love plus one
I can’t understand why I was being so ridiculous. I was acting as though I had been jilted and that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” expression proved itself as, as soon as I saw her and she was nice to me, I went back to being a love-sick puppy.
At home, I sat on my bed trying to reconcile the fact that I hadn’t been jilted. We weren’t seeing one another, so why shouldn’t she go find someone new? The song on the radio was Nick Heywood and Haircut 100 with Love plus one.
How apt...
I must have had a face as long as a wet weekend for days afterwards and even Steve gave me a wide berth, but after the weekend I had managed to calm down sufficiently to be back to something resembling approachable.
“How are we this morning?” he asked tentatively.
“Better thank you. I can’t apologise enough for last week. I had a bit of a nasty turn.”
“Oooh! I know just what you mean sweetie.” he said, his face lighting up. “I hope you made him pay for it. Perhaps a good spanking?” He shuddered suggestively. I was stunned into silence and blushed.
“Er, it wasn’t my boyfriend.” I said, realising immediately that I hadn’t phrased that at all well and had left the door open for Steve to wheedle yet more info out of me.
“Hmm. Never thought of you as one that would be playing the field.” he said, adopting that stance with his finger on his chin and a “What have you been up to” wide-eyed and innocent look on his face.
“I wasn’t playing the field. I don’t do that.”
“Hmm.” he murmured and looked away, his finger still on his chin, evidently not believing what I had told him. Jesus, he could put more into what he didn’t say than others could with what they DID!
“It wasn’t a boy.” I said quietly.
“Ooooh! Well aren’t we the dark horse?” he said and his eyebrows almost went into a low orbit. “It wasn’t a horse was it?” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“No. Not a horse either.”
“I should hope not. They can make a real mess of the sheets.” he said fluffing up some towels. “Well are you going to tell me or not?”
“In for a penny…” I thought.
“It was a girl I used to know. I thought I was over it, but it seems that well, I wasn’t. I saw her again and all those feelings came back up and months of work trying to forget her amounted to nothing.”
“Look at you.” he lisped. “I would never have guessed. Such a quiet one too.”
“Yeah, well. We all have our crosses to bear, I suppose.”
“Hmm. Well that’s a first, ducky.”
“What’s that?”
“Me not reading you.” I froze momentarily wondering what was coming and dreading the “I know what you really are” speech. “I had you pegged as the little miss house maker. You know two point two kids, semi-detached dog and door chimes.”
I just laughed again. “I’m a bit young for that yet.” I said, a wave of relief washing over me.
“Hey-ho! Can’t win them all.” he said and minced out into the salon.
Well that was a weird one. I thought that he had spotted that I was a transitioning transsexual, but no. He’d gone away thinking I was a lesbian instead. I wasn’t sure which was worse. Was there a ‘worse’ and under the circumstances, did it matter?
I suppose both were true and I certainly didn’t like the idea of the ‘little miss home maker’, so I settled for lesbian.
Weird.
I would have argued until I was blue in the face that I wasn’t gay at school and yet there I was, standing in the salon accepting the fact that I was a gay female, but not only accepting it, actually getting a kick out of it, especially since it felt so right.
After bumping into Lisa, going to college was a mix of dread and excitement. On the one hand I was excited by the prospects of learning more about a trade that I had never considered before, but actually got me enthusiastic on a daily basis, while on the other, was the dread of bumping into Lisa again with her girlfriend. Strangely, I also felt a certain amount of excitement about bumping into Lisa too. Providing she was on her own that was.
Christ, it was getting complicated. Why did she still have that effect on me?
The fact was, it was only once a week and for five days out of the remaining six, I was putting my newly learned skills to good use in the salon. When I wasn’t plying my side of the trade, I was helping with hair washing and the occasional blow-dry. I was obviously doing something right as the number of customers was rising and the amount of work I was doing rose considerably.
We were doing a few things that I had mastered and that I had demonstrated on either Steve — he was fond of the facial massage, Gwen — who could take all I could do, all day if she could or one of the two part-timers — both of whom were partial to the manicures and most weekends had me apply false nails. Nevertheless, it attracted custom and everyone was pleased. The plan was, to integrate as much as I felt comfortable with as soon as I was comfortable with it.
December came and Gwen cheered me up no end by giving me a pay rise. It wasn’t a large rise, but she promised to increase that regularly since I was doing so well. Things were definitely better now than they had been and I was sure that if I had stayed at home, none of this would be happening.
The shame was that the one person I would like to be being congratulated and patted on the back by, was conspicuous by her absence.
Mum and I had not spoken since the last phone call and all the time “blood’s thicker than water” kept intruding and I just hated the thought that I was blanking her out. In point of fact, I wasn’t blanking her, she was blanking me.
Perhaps it was the fact that I didn’t fit into a nice neat package anymore and I got the impression that she couldn’t deal with that. “Here’s my daughter who used to be my son”, probably wouldn’t have sat well in her mind. I felt sorry for her, but sorrier for me, because her absence left a large hole in my life and I couldn’t help feeling that if I could only DO something...
The “WHAT” though was the hard part.
Facing the truth was harder than anything else I’d had to do. I was being stubborn I know and I had to realise that it was down to mum to get her head round what I was doing. It wasn’t as if I was doing anything nefarious or illegal, I was doing what I felt was best for me given the facts.
It was for her to come to the same conclusion and whether it took a day, a week, a year or a decade, it was down to her and her alone. I couldn’t force the issue, chuck facts down her throat or talk until I was hoarse. I wasn’t at all sure it would make the least bit of difference anyway.
Party fears two
My birthday arrived and I went to the front door before I left for work to see if anyone had sent me a card. I was only looking for one, but it wasn’t there.
“Maybe it’ll be here when you get home.” said Lily helpfully, but I doubted it.
The rest of the day was much like any other. I got a couple of “Happy Birthday” wishes from the staff, but I hadn’t been there long enough to expect anything, so I was surprised when Steve went and got a whole bunch of ring doughnuts, Danish pastries and the like “from Gwen” he said. It took my mind off of the fact that I didn’t get a card even from mum and made me feel like part of Gwen’s family.
Sometimes I don’t know whether all that guff about ‘family’ is actually worth a damn, because frankly I have felt better with the people in the salon and Ray and Lily than I ever had with my own family.
Go figure.
Ray and Lily had not only bought me a present, but had provided me with a cake and card. It was only a small cake and had a single candle on it. The card was emblazoned with a large ‘1’.
“But I’m seventeen.” I said.
“We know, but Suzanne isn’t is she? She’s having HER first birthday. Happy Birthday Suzanne.”
I was in tears before they had finished with the Happy Birthday bit and when I threw my arms round Ray, I could feel him flushing. I don’t think he ever got used to me going from boy to girl at all and even if I had been a girl all my life, Ray was just one of those people who got easily embarrassed with any affectionate displays.
Lily on the other hand, was a real hugger and I could hug her anytime, this one was a real excuse for an extended hug, which even got her a bit bleary-eyed too.
My present consisted of some more clothes and a pair of ankle boots I had had my eyes on for a while, but couldn’t bring myself to buy because they were a bit out of my price range. So it was off with the old and on with the new. I didn’t care whether they were the most uncomfortable boots out there, but I was going to wear them tonight!
Mandy had something planned for me and I had to leave just before things got too slushy with Ray and Lily. I hugged the two of them once more and thanked them for my presents, the card and the cake and left for the evening.
God, how I wished they were my parents.
I had no idea what her plan was and when I got to her place, we went straight out. I was fully togged up and as nervous as hell. This would be the first time I had ‘gone out’ in any sense of the word — visits to friends and family aside of course.
I had work the following day and was under strict instructions to be back before midnight. We met up with Julie and Caroline who now had someone else in tow and mercifully, I had no idea who he was or he me.
We went to a small place just up from the Old Steine that by the time we’d got there was pretty empty. No-one questioned our ages, but we were only drinking soft drinks anyhow while we played pool and badly I might add. It was a lot of fun and after a while more people came in and soon we were relegated to sitting to one side while people who could really play took over the tables.
Mandy was the last of us to finish and I don’t know where she learnt to play like she did, but she gave this guy a damned good run for his money. Anyway, he joined us or rather Mandy when I went to the bar to get some drinks.
Julie and another lad called Jeff were playing now as part of a foursome with Mandy and her new beau whose name was Marcus. I felt momentarily left out, but I was so bad at the game anyway that I was happy just watching and cheering both sides equally.
I wasn’t alone for long though as a girl named Annabel joined me and sat opposite. She was a bit older than me, but she was good fun and as the place filled even more, she dragged her stool round to beside me.
“Want some of this?” she asked, taking a small silver-coloured hip-flask from inside her bike jacket.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Just a little something to ward off the chill.” she said with a mischievous grin.
“I don’t know…” I said, but then relented. “Oh go on then. It is my birthday after all.
She surreptitiously poured a small amount into my glass on top of my coke and nothing more was said. I don’t know what it was, but after a while I started to feel a bit warm and fuzzy, not at all unpleasant.
The place was heaving by about half nine and Annabel and I were hitting it off nicely. I was getting drunk I could feel that, but I hadn’t seen her slip anything else into my drink since the last one and as I tasted my coke, I couldn’t tell the difference. She kept looking at me and grinning and I being unaware of the situation just kept grinning back.
Then the hand went around my shoulders as we sat watching more people playing pool and really getting into the atmosphere. I turned to get my drink from the table and as I did, I found she was there waiting for me.
We kissed and it seemed very natural. It wasn’t the same tingly kiss that I got from Lisa, but it was nice and before long, the kisses were getting more passionate and more frequent.
I don’t know if she was topping my drink off with more of whatever she had in that flask, but things were beginning to get a little blurry and starting to spin.
“Wassin the glass?” I asked, aware that I was having trouble forming my sentences.
“It’s just a little winter warmer.” she said. “Do you like it?”
“I just don’t think it likes me.” I said. “I don’t feel so good.”
She helped me out to the toilets and I was as sick as a pig. I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink or eat, but there was more than I was expecting that was for sure. I rinsed off at one of the sinks and I couldn’t stop the room from turning. My head was spinning like a top and had it not been for Annabel, I don’t think I’d have made it out of the toilets at all.
She was helping me back into the bar and I spotted something on her jacket.
“Tha’s nice.” I said as I stumbled to the table.
“Christ Suzie! Where’ve you been?” asked Mandy.
“Wiv my frien’ An’bel.”
“Shit. You’re pissed. What’ve you been drinking?”
“Win’er warmer.” I giggled.
“I’ll see you around.” said Annabel, although I was too sloshed to realise she’d said that until later.
“Thanks for helping, Annabel.” said Mandy.
“No problem.” she replied as she threaded her way through the people and out the door.
“I’ll go and see the others then I think we’ll have to get you out of here.” said Mandy and plopping me down on a stool, disappeared to the other side of the table to find Julie and Caroline.
It wasn’t long before she was back and peeling me off the table. I put my arm round her and we started to stagger towards the door.
“I luff you.” I said seriously.
“Thanks.” said Mandy, trying hard to stay upright under the weight of the drunk on her shoulder — me.
Outside, we made our way to the taxi rank not far from the King and Queen and before I knew what was happening, I was asleep in the back of a cab.
Ray and Lily were still up and one look at me, told them I was more than a little the worse for wear. Lily hurried me off to bed and without a telling off too. Mum would probably have given me the third degree which would only have served to make a bad headache worse, but not so with Lily.
As I lay in bed in the darkness, my head on a cool part of the pillow, I couldn’t help wondering about that kiss in the pub. Had I asked for it or was it just someone taking advantage?
Probably some of both.
I won’t be drinking ‘unknowns’ again though.
I awoke to the sound of the alarm clock trying to beat the shit out of my ears.
I felt diabolical. I should have guessed that she was spiking the drinks more than I knew about. I went all giggly and stupid for a start and I’m not normally like that. As much as I liked her, my condition wasn’t just from her company that’s for sure.
Coffee brought me round, but I just couldn’t face the thought of eating anything. I think Lily was secretly amused by what happened and the state of me that morning, but after the walk to work I was at least starting to feel like a human being.
So that was a hangover, was it? I could hear myself muttering those immortal words “never again”. I know now that that’s like saying “I’m not going to breath again”, but it was meant with the best of intentions!
Mad world
Christmas came and I spent half of my time over the holidays at Mandy’s and half with Ray and Lily. I got nothing from mum, not even a card and the more I stopped feeling piteous and thought about it, the more I realised that Lily was right about her.
It didn’t stop it hurting though.
In the New Year, Gwen was making plans with Ray about the new fittings in the salon and I was nearly half way though my college course. I was enjoying it and had even bumped into Lisa a couple of times more. Although the feelings hadn’t gone away, I had much more control of them.
As far as Annabel was concerned, I hadn’t seen her since that awful night. It didn’t surprise me though as I didn’t spend much of my time in that neck of the woods and I don’t know whether I could face her again after my drunken display anyway.
My breasts had actually started to look like breasts and I had even started to round over as Ray put it. My figure was starting to look a lot more feminine. Even my face was changing and the further on I got, the more I was sure that I had made exactly the right choice, exactly the right decision.
I don’t think I had ever felt so good. I was truly happy. It goes without saying that things could have been better, there’s always room for improvement, but the hormones were kicking in nicely and I had even got used to the mood swings, which by now were diminishing.
I was doing well in the salon and more people were coming in for manicures and the occasional facial. I felt more alive than I have ever done and whilst thinking about mum and the fact that she made me feel as though I was like a rat deserting the sinking ship, my own life was gaining momentum.
Learning to deal with my new persona in the real world was fun. I was fending off advances from boys and was gaining in confidence all the time. At first, I didn’t know what to do, but I soon got the hang of letting them down gently and instead of blurting out that I was a lesbian transsexual, I would simply say that there was already someone else, however some did need the absolute truth!
Around February, I was in the common room at the college and was once again getting coffee. I bumped into someone I didn’t think I’d ever see again — Annabel.
There was a big crowd in there that day, more students than I’d seen in there in a while and I was surprised to see her standing to one side of the main group.
The memory of talking to God down the great white telephone came to my mind and I felt embarrassed by the scene, but well, if you want to spike someone’s drink I guess there’s every chance that what happened to me is likely to happen.
I swallowed my pride and decided that whether her fault or not (it may not have been after all. Yeah, right!), I thought an apology was in order.
“Hi Annabel.” I said brightly and the look on her face was a picture, I thought she was going to swallow the coffee, cup and all. Her eyes went as big as saucers and I swear, she took two involuntary steps backwards. “Well, I’ve never had that effect on anyone before!”
“Er, hi.” she replied.
“I just wanted to apologise for that night. I made a fool of myself and you’d been so nice to me. I really enjoyed being with you too. I felt rotten afterwards. Can you ever forgive me?” It was a bit theatrical perhaps, but, hey.
She was starting to make weird kind of strangled noises and suddenly Lisa turned round. I had been so intent on Annabel, that I just didn’t recognise Lisa from behind.
“Forgive who?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
Suddenly, the picture became whole.
Upon Annabel’s jacket was a badge, a holographic badge and it became overlaid with the one that belonged to the girl that was all over Lisa the first time I saw her in the common room, which also became overlaid with the one Annabel was wearing the night of my birthday.
“Oh shit!” I said. “I’m soooo sorry Lisa.” I said and turned, fleeing with eyes brimming full of tears.
I was sent home early that day because I couldn’t keep it together.
I couldn’t believe what had happened. I had no idea who Annabel was in the pub and it never dawned on me until I saw the two of them together and caught sight of that badge.
I laid on my bed at home, my eyes sore and puffy thanks to the crying. I was pretty sure how this would look to Lisa; in fact I was pretty sure how it would look to anyone. Every time I tried to find an excuse, my head kept on telling me that it was Lisa’s girlfriend, regardless of the mitigating circumstances that surrounded the event.
I avoided the common room like plague from then on. I told a couple of my friends what had happened and apart from them being shocked because I was apparently dating another girl, they generally thought I was beating myself up over something that I couldn’t possibly have known beforehand.
It didn’t make me feel any better.
By about mid March, I was just about over it all. I had finally told myself that Lisa was gone forever. What girl would be interested in me after I had apparently ‘stolen’ her girlfriend after all?
I was just about to go to lunch when the door to the newly refurbished ‘unisex’ salon opened.
It was Lisa.
“Christ!” I thought. She’s finally tracked me down and now I’m going to get it.
“Hi Suzie.” she said.
“Er, hi.”
“Have you got a minute?” she asked and she didn’t look comfortable.
“Well, I was just about to go to dinner. Would you like to come along?”
We left the salon and I could feel Steve’s eyes following me out of the door.
“It’ll end in tears.” I heard him saying to no-one in particular.
We walked to the café in silence. I had a plethora of thoughts swirling around my head, none of them ending well and all of them leaving me needing another makeup job at the very least.
I ordered two coffees and we sat down at a table in a quiet corner.
“Lisa, I had no idea who she…” I began before her finger touched my lips.
“Shhh! I’m not blaming you.” she said, cutting my words off. “Truth is I had an idea something like that was happening.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. There was a distinct lack of respect there. I was kind of expecting it.”
“Oh.” I said as all my fears and misgivings evaporated.
“I tried to tell you, but I couldn’t find you. After what you said in the common room, I wanted to cut you into little pieces, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t you. You were just the person who pointed out that it really was happening and it wasn’t my imagination.”
We sat for a while, the sound of the people in the café and the little transistor radio burbling in the background.
“What happened to us? I mean, I know it didn’t really get started, but I really thought we had something and I was so hoping we could be friends, but then I didn’t see you again.” I asked.
She looked at me and smiled. I could feel that “hump-backed bridge” feeling welling up like a swarm of butterflies about the size of jumbo jets in my stomach and I was starting to tremble.
“I didn’t think you were into me, least that’s what your mum said.”
“What?”
I was dumbfounded. I had no idea she had been back and mum didn’t see fit to tell me either. It’s just another of those shocks that justified my being where I was, doing what I was and not involving her in any of it.
“Yeah. I went back to apologise, but she told me you’d run off to live with some guy named Ray.”
I nearly wet myself laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“I don’t suppose she mentioned his wife Lily?” I asked, still laughing.
“No.”
“Ahh. Ray’s my uncle, well, sort of. It’s a bit complicated, but he’s kind of part of an extended family. If it weren’t for him and especially Lily, I wouldn’t be here now I don’t think.”
“Wow.”
“Lily helped me see myself for what I really am, find a direction and perhaps more importantly, professional support. She still is. They’re amazing people and I have always wished that I could have been their daughter and not mum’s, but c’est la vie.”
“So you’re going all the way with this?”
“I guess.” I said. “My male parts have never really worked, so I think it’s for the best. Not to mention that I feel better and look better like this than I did as a boy.”
“Yes. You’re looking very well, I must say.”
“Thank you.” I said flushing slightly. “Do you think we could start over?” I asked, trembling with the thought that she was going to say no, but even if she did, I would know that at least what little we did have, didn’t end acrimoniously.
“It’s possible.” she said smiling.
That all seems like an eternity ago.
I still wonder how I ever doubted what I should be, but having helped a number of other young people through — both male and female, I realise that it’s not everyone who ‘knows’ what they should be, many just know that something’s not right and that’s as far as it goes.
Am I happy?
As a pig in the brown, smelly stuff.
I’m sitting in the office or what’s known as the office, just finishing reading through this. Parts brought tears to my eyes and whilst I don’t expect that it will have the same effect on other people who might read this, you have no idea how much better it makes me feel realising for the first time in some cases that it’s all in the past and I can let go.
I have found it quite cathartic writing it all down. It’s like throwing a load of old stuff out of the attic, you don’t realise how much excess baggage you’re carrying around with you until you pluck up the courage to actually get rid of it.
Paul now is like a film. Yes I can appreciate how he felt, but now, it’s like it happened to someone else. I have kept one or two things to remind me, they help me keep my feet on the ground and no, I couldn’t throw out that old skirt, blouse, bra and briefs that I wore for that first time. Since Lily washed it, I haven’t taken it out of the plastic bag. In fact, it was that that prompted me to write this down in the first place, after rooting around in the attic.
Sadly, even after all this time, I haven’t heard from mum. I have driven round there a couple of times, but have never got past sitting outside for a few minutes and catching the occasional glimpse of her or the brats (who are now two strapping young men now and are going to be breaking hearts any time soon).
Mandy is married and if I don’t go to her, she will often come into the salon (which I now run) and after all she did for me, I feel a free hair-do or facial is the least I can do. She’s expecting her second child in August. It must have been a good Christmas.
I get on well with her and her hubby Justin and am God mother to Suzanne, their first. Now the tingles I get on hearing that name are for a different reason and whilst I’m not exactly what anyone would call religious, I take my role very seriously, even though there are those out there who would disagree with me, my life, what I have done or am doing with it. I like to think of it as the natural flow of the universe.
I cannot stress how lucky I was to have Ray and Lily around for me. They were everything I needed in parents but never had. Speaking of which, they should be here soon, so I will bid you a fond farewell and draw a close to that early chapter of my life.
That was the door bell. Speak of the devil and he shall appear as they say.
“Lisa, would you mind getting that, I think it’s Ray and Lily.”
“No problem.” she said and gave me a quick hug and peck on the cheek before heading for the door.
I don’t know if “Finding Lisa” is quite right as a title as it could be said she found me!
The end.
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As he recuperates, he begins to find out things about himself that he never considered, some of which are not so easy to take...
This story is complete however, I would like to warn you that The Sight and the following part Second Sight are in the process of being rewritten. This is because when I tried to continue Second Sight, I couldn't remember what was going on and what had happened before. So I ended up rereading the whole lot and like the idiot I am, I also started noodling; fiddling with the existing chapters and before I knew where I was, I had changed them both to such a degree that it would no longer have been possible to update each individual episode ... we were looking at replacing everything from one end to the other.
I wanted to take these older versions down or unpub them, but it was suggested that both should be left up side-by-side. So be aware, the story is incomplete, but will be just as soon as I can finish the new version.
This will be posted chapter by chapter at regular intervals until the whole novel has been uploaded to this site, at which point it will be published for Kindle. However, nothing of the new version will be published or posted until such time as it is complete and I've stopped picking at it.
Just thought you'd like to know.
© Nick B 2008
Marvellously edited by Gabi
Chapter 1
“Where am I?” asked sixteen year-old Darryl Groves. He felt as if he’d just wakened from a particularly bad night’s sleep, aching and stiff. He was surprised to see his uncle, Paul and his mum, Gemma peering at him and he appeared to be in bed. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean, what are we doing here? We’ve been talking to you for the last half hour,” said Gemma who turned away, muttering something about “stupid bloody motorbikes” and “taking the piss”.
“It’s alright, Gemma. He’s had a concussion and possibly more, it does strange things. I’ll stay with him until the doctors have been round.”
“Bloody motorbikes,” said Gemma again. “I’m sorry, Darryl, I’m going to have to go get ready for work,” Then, with no more than a swift peck on Darryl’s cheek, she marched straight out of the hospital ward.
“What happened, Paul?”
“You came off the bike. Richard was watching you as you jumped off the top of that mound. He said it was quite spectacular.
Darryl smiled ruefully. “Is the bike okay?”
“I think so. Nothing major broken or bent–unlike you. The equalisation tube from the air forks came adrift is about all. When we found you I thought you were dying. There appeared to be green gunk oozing from your stomach and blood coming from a gash in your left leg. I think your right leg broke when you and the bike hit the deck. Anyway, it’s nothing that won’t mend. We’ll know more when the doctors have been round. How’s your eye?”
“It doesn’t feel bad, but I can’t open it, so I don’t know.”
“It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Sorry about the bike.”
“It’s only a tube and some oil. It’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“What about the gunk?”
Paul laughed uncomfortably. “Fork oil; it was dripping from the headstock. Boy was I relieved when I realised.”
“I don’t remember anything. The only thing I can remember is tootling around and then a couple of moments ago. Everything else–” Darryl tried to raise his hands and shrug, but the bruising to his shoulder prevented it.
The doctor came soon after and a nurse shooed Paul away to the waiting area. “We’ll call you when the doctor’s finished,” she said and drew the curtains around Darryl’s bed.
Paul went to the waiting area and sat down with a cup of coffee, wondering whether letting Darryl ride his bike was such a good idea.
He had played down Darryl’s injuries somewhat. The gash in his upper, inner thigh was nasty, bleeding quite profusely at the scene, but because of his jeans, it wasn’t obvious how far up or down his leg it went, what was actually damaged or how badly. It wasn’t known at this early stage whether his eye was damaged permanently.
The concussion was another consideration. Sometimes it can mask what damage has been caused inside, out of sight, although it didn’t appear as though Darryl had anything to worry about there. He was chipper and chatting away although his eye–the one that wasn’t damaged, was unfocussed, but he did seem to know who he was talking to and that was always a positive sign. Gemma was probably just worried for her son. Paul knew he was.
The nurse eventually returned with the doctor and met with Paul.
“You’re young Mr. Groves’–” asked the doctor.
“Uncle.”
“Right, right, yes of course. I’m afraid it’s worse than we thought. We’re prepping him for surgery and we’ll have to take it from there, but the injury he sustained to his left inner thigh is quite a nasty affair.”
“It’s serious then?”
“Certainly. I think you got him here just in time. As to just how much damage has been caused won’t be apparent until after we’ve cleaned him up properly and had a better look, but it looks as though the damage goes right into the groin. It looks as though we’re going to have to operate and see if we can get it all back to normal.”
“He will be alright won’t he?”
“Oh of that I’m sure. There will be some things he will have to get used to for a while at least, but he should be fine. Now we’ve had a chance to look, we can better see the most of the damage. If he’s lucky, he’ll be up and about in a couple of weeks–with a plaster cast and bandages of course.”
“If he’s not?”
“Let’s try not to think about that shall we?”
Paul went to the public phone in the foyer before heading out to the car park.
“Gemma… Paul… Yes he’s fine… They’re taking him into surgery… No, no, no. He just damaged his leg more than they thought… I don’t know, they didn’t say. I’m sorry–” Paul replaced the receiver, in no doubt as to whom Gemma was blaming for this, but accidents happen.
“Nurse?” he called. The nurse arrived after a couple more calls. “I need to go, um to the toilet.”
“What sort?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you need a bed-pan?”
“I just need to pee,” he said, frustrated at the fact that something so simple could be so hard to achieve.
“Then pee. There’s a catheter inserted,” she said after checking his chart. “Call if you need to do anything else.”
A catheter? What the hell had happened? Just the thought of something being shoved where he thought it had been shoved, brought tears to his eyes.
It was with no small measure of discomfort that he let his bladder empty. The pain down there was quite severe and though he was afraid of what he might find, he reached down, touching the area round his groin gingerly, meeting nothing but surgical tape and dressings around a smallish tube that stuck out from between his legs.
Oh Jesus… he thought, snatching his hand back and trembling noticeably.
It felt as though someone had driven the Queen Mary up there. He could feel it when he peed–-right deep inside. Curiously or frighteningly, he could feel nothing outside and that’s what set his mind racing.
There had been no visitors and about the only thing that alerted him to the time of day, was the fact at one point, dinner was served, although either “dinner” or “served” should be taken as very loose terms indeed. In the meantime, he noticed a strange sound, just too far away to be recognisable, occasionally, catching his attention and causing him great pain as he twisted to try and see where it was coming from.
Sleep came with difficulty. Perhaps if that humming in his ears would stop, it would have been easier; plus he had so many things on his mind. His groin and one leg were bandaged while the other leg was plastered from his toes to his thigh to name but two.
His eye was puffy though it was working, which was one thing less to worry about, but, having all this time with nothing to do, made his mind think of the strangest things.
He drifted off to sleep, though it was riddled with what could have been dreams or perhaps memories. Maybe they were just odd visions.
It was a few years ago, or that was the way it seemed. He was leafing through the mail order catalogue on the way to see a picture of the bike his mum had ordered for him to go to and from school on–ostensibly anyway. The fact that he would get to use it for fun too, was just a bonus.
He had his heart set on one particular model and because it saved money–i.e., negated bus fares, his mum relented and from the day she ordered it until the day it arrived, he pored over the catalogue to look at his newest and most prized possession–to be.
On this particular occasion, the book opened at the clothing section or more precisely, the girl’s clothes and he found himself looking at a picture of one girl in something he could only describe as amazing. The image was so strong, it even woke him and he opened his eye to see the ward subdued and quiet. Meanwhile, that vision burned into him like a red-hot poker.
He remembered the time he first saw it. Apart from the fact that she was pretty, the deep red leotard she was wearing outlined every bump, curve and valley on her body. It wasn’t revealing, just form-hugging and showed off her maturing body beautifully. Something inside him wished he could wear something like that; it looked so silky-smooth and before he knew it, his brain was imagining him running his hands over his body, feeling the satin surface of the garment as it clung tightly to every inch it covered.
To say he was stunned at his own head coming up with something like that was at the time–well, frankly hideous and no less in retrospect, but could he get that thought from his mind? Not a chance. He remembered how it haunted him for several days afterwards and during that time he didn’t know what to do. Why had it come back to him now?
Perhaps it was the fear of having lost part of him and to a maturing adolescent boy–a very important part of him. Despite trying not to, for fear of seeing more upsetting images, he couldn’t help himself dozing off again
They were perfect. They were platforms, which were the style everyone was breaking their ankles with at the time (usually after tripping over the horrendously wide flares everyone was wearing too); black, which meant they would fit with the uniform for school and best of all, they were platforms.
“Did I mention they had platform soles mum? Real trendy.”
Gemma wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see…” she said.
Wait until I tell Dawn at school… he thought as he scampered off to the bedroom, she had a pair just like them.
Again, he was awake.
Did I actually ask mum to buy me shoes that looked like Dawn’s? he asked himself.
The memory came back in dribs and drabs and he remembered how much trouble he got into when he announced, pleased as punch that his shoes looked like Dawn’s. Fact was, he didn’t get them. He told him mum which one’s they were so that she could order them, but she took one look and said “I’m not buying you those,” and that was all there was to it.
They had been in the men’s section, but they were almost identical to the one’s Dawn wore and that set a whole ball rolling that he never anticipated.
The term queer–-or any other terms synonymous with it–were applied in fairly liberal quantities when references were made to Darryl and if he ever answered back, then it was usually either a dunking into the lavatory or a sound pasting.
“Why am I seeing these?” he asked aloud to no-one in particular.
He tried desperately to stay awake; the thought of sleeping and being embarrassed by any more of his childhood faux-pas, was too much to contemplate and was that humming getting louder?
All comments and votes gratefully received...
© Nick B 2008
Wonderfully edited by Gabi
Darryl's stay in hospital continues and so does his worry about "the operation"...
Chapter 2
The next morning–day three–the murmur or hum in his ears had become noticeably louder. Just on the edges, was what sounded like chatter, but nothing discernible and before he had had a chance to try and fathom what it was, the nurse came to give him his medication.
Darryl was almost overcome by a wave of emotion that felt like worry. He looked at the young auxiliary nurse as she handed him a small beaker with three pills in the bottom. She looked fine, happy even, with a chirpy and bubbly nature. From the outside, no one would ever have suspected she had things on her mind.
He didn’t know how he knew, but he did know that she was the source of those feelings of worry and he wondered what could be on her mind to cause it or how on earth she managed to hide it so well. As she walked away, Darryl could feel the emotional wave receding with every step she took.
What the hell? he wondered. Would he get similar feelings from everyone that walked past or came to see him?
As if in direct answer, a woman was being escorted by the sister from the ward. There was no disguising how she felt. She was crying loudly as–with an arm about her shoulder–the sister took her across the polished linoleum tiled floor towards the doors.
Darryl was not prepared for the tsunami-like rush of despair that washed over, through and around him; so much so, that it was much later that he finally opened his good eye and stared around the ward.
The weeping woman was gone and so too was the feeling of despair, but without a watch or a clock that he could see, there was no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious.
“Holy–!” he exclaimed. “What the hell was that?”
“Are you alright Mr. Groves?” asked the sister.
He so wanted to say, “Aside from my balls being left on a gorse bush somewhere off the A23? Fine.” But no–it did make him snort a bit before getting out what he knew he could get away with.
“Er, fine. A bit of pain from the gash in my left leg, my right leg itches like crazy and I can’t see squat through my left eye, but apart from that, super, thank you,” he said finishing off with a huge cheesy grin. The sister rolled her eyes and shook her head as she wandered off.
As if being able to feel the emotions of others wasn’t unexpected enough, that last blast was a real kick in the teeth. He felt drained, both physically and mentally, but it did take his mind off the possibility of having been given the “snip and tuck” treatment. However it wasn’t long before it was back at the forefront of his mind, gnawing at him like a dog on a tasty bone.
Would being a girl really be so bad?
Propped up against the pillows, Darryl thought about his younger days (ironic at the tender age of sixteen). His almost overwhelming desire to wear what all the pop stars of the time were wearing and how this would not have gone down well in the provincial school he attended played on his mind. The shoes he wanted were a prime example.
The idea of a boy wearing something glittery or having boots or shoes with stacked heels; wearing his hair long or anything remotely ‘girly’ was likely to incite a riot, despite there being any number who were avidly listening to Roxy Music, David Bowie, Mud, Sweet, Slade, Kiss, T-Rex or any others in a long list of glam-rockers, but it wasn’t just that was it?
No it wasn’t.
He had found himself at school looking with envy at the way the girls could adapt their uniforms to incorporate other elements, such as longer pencil skirts, pleated skirts, circle skirts, ‘A’-line skirts; with tights, without tights, sheer tights, woolly tights, coloured tights; silky blouses, cotton blouses, cardigans or jumpers and that was apart from the fun they could have with underwear–a subject, about which Darryl knew precious little, other than what he had gleaned from his infrequent peeks at said items in his mother’s mail order catalogue.
He, on the other hand–as with all the boys–was stuck wearing the same old stuff day in, day out. Well not the same stuff necessarily, but certainly the same style; the trousers, shirt and shoes. Not exactly exciting.
It was odd; like the dawning of realisation.
He had what he termed as an unhealthy desire to be more like the girls and little interest in trying to fit with the boys. To him, they were just a necessary evil; something to tolerate until he could decide for himself…
The fact was he knew that school uniforms weren’t there to be exciting, but dress code aside, the girls seemed to have the better deal. They seemed much less prone to fighting, were generally a much better package visually (in most cases anyway) and from what he’d seen his mum go through, there were obviously bits that didn’t appeal, but not half as many as didn’t appeal about being a boy.
It didn’t help either that Gemma–a budding dressmaker–would often enlist his help when pinning the hem of a dress or skirt and he would stand upon the kitchen table, twirling slowly as pins were inserted into the fabric to mark the position of the hemline.
He tried to keep his thoughts to himself about how he felt when posing in his mother’s latest creation. The feel of the light, silken material as it swished like a soft breeze against his legs, or how the bodice enveloped his smooth, hairless skin sending tingles up and down his spine.
The killer was when she made a fairly tight-fitting skirt for her friend and he had to wear a pair of her panties as his own briefs were “far too lumpy”. This he did–after some protestation, although in truth he couldn’t wait–and upon slipping into said skirt, he was told almost immediately to “tuck yourself back. We can’t have that showing now, can we?”
After a little confusion, he had tucked his willy out of the way between his legs before pulling the panties firmly into place, followed by the skirt.
“See, nice and flat,” said Gemma.
The whole experience was one he will probably never forget. Seeing himself in the mirror, flat stomach and on down to the groin, just like the girls at school. Consequently, this had a profound effect on Darryl and whilst the feeling of wanting to be more girly waxed and waned, or at least didn’t dominate every waking hour of every day, one glance at that memory and it all flooded back.
So would being female be so bad?
He couldn’t answer that. He felt like a baby being taught how to swim by being chucked in a swimming pool, where the idea was to sink or swim. Nine times out of ten, the baby will float to the surface and splash along at its own rate, perfectly safe. Was this the same?
Hardly, but he did feel as if he was being dropped in the deep end and the thought of suddenly having to change his ways because of a stupid accident was not inspiring confidence. Having posed in a skirt or stood in a dress for a matter of a few minutes, did not constitute being a girl, however much he may have liked the experience.
“We know you’ve had sixteen years of being a male, but now we want you to forget that and do this now…”
Swimming never seemed so hard once you got the hang of it, but this wasn’t swimming, was it? No, this wasn’t even doggy paddle.
It was insidious; worming its way in from the edges of his consciousness, sometimes overshadowing sounds he needed to hear. What few conversations he had had with staff were difficult as many of those staff members were overworked, tired and stressed, which sent their emotional levels higher than he was comfortable with, and some were experiencing their ‘pre-monthlies’ which just made the whole thing a complete nightmare.
It was like an industrial air conditioning unit which makes you jump out of your skin when it fires up and annoys the hell out of you until eventually you get used to it, at which point, it shuts off and you get the feeling you’ve just gone deaf.
Would he get used to it or would it go away?
“How are you doing? The ward sister says you’re making good progress,” said his mum.
“I’m okay I suppose. It’s so boring.”
As clear as day, his mum’s thoughts rang in his head–you should try doing the job I do all day…
“I wish I HAD a job to do,” he said without thinking.
“Pardon?”
“Well, you know–all I do here is sit or sleep; there’s nothing much else to it. I can’t get up or go to the bathroom, although the sponge baths are rather nice…”
“You should have thought of that before you threw yourself off of that bloody motorbike, shouldn’t you? What is it with kids of your age and those infernal death traps?”
“It wasn’t like that. D’you think I did it on purpose?”
“No, no, of course I don’t,” she said, but was in two minds about that–and Darryl knew it. “But I do think Paul should have shown better sense.”
Paul just sat there quietly. He knew better than to argue. It was his bike and his fault that Darryl had got himself into this mess. Darryl meanwhile saw this as a warning signal and knew what to do about it.
“It WASN’T Paul’s fault this happened. He didn’t make me ride his bike. If anything, I made HIM let me ride it, okay? I’m sorry all this happened and I’m sorry I broke his bike, but it was MY fault–MINE!” he said, feeling redness creeping up his face from his neck to his brow and with that, he started to cry.
Tears streaked down his face and whilst he couldn’t look directly at his mum, he could see out of the corner of his eye that she was calming down, though occasionally threw black looks and Paddington-hard stares in Paul’s direction.
“For God’s sake stop that snivelling. D’you want everyone to think you’re a girl?” Gemma asked, coldly.
That was enough for Darryl, his emotional bank was already way overdrawn and a fresh flood of tears began.
“Still,” said Gemma, changing the subject and arranging her handbag on her lap whilst looking decidedly uncomfortable with her son’s outbursts in front of all the people on the ward, none of whom–in reality–were paying any attention. “If you continue making improvements like you are it won’t be long before you’ll be home again.”
“How long?”
“A day or two? Three at most?”
“Um, that’s great,” he said without any real excitement, but quite a few sniffles.
“You don’t sound too pleased.”
He wasn’t. The thought of being all on his own all day without being able to get about wasn’t as stunningly exciting as he had hoped. That was without even bringing the “surgery” into the equation.
Surely the doctors would have said something about what they were going to do wouldn’t they?
Maybe they did, just not to him. They did tell him they were going to perform a small operation. Did cutting off his manhood constitute a small operation then?
It just didn’t bear thinking about.
“I’m fine, mum. Happy to hear it, but I just don’t know if I’m going to be healed by then.”
“You’re not here to get healed all the way, just well enough to go home.”
Was it just the fact that he knew his mum so well, knowing that–all too often, her mouth was saying one thing but she meant another? This time, he could tell that she was afraid of not being able to earn the money to support them if she had to nurse him back to health. It wasn’t just the money either, it was the fact that if she had to take too much time away from work, they may well find someone else to fill her place; a place that wouldn’t be there by the time she was able to go back.
“But… I just don’t want to be a burden, mum,” he said, trying to head her fears off at the pass.
“Burden? How could you possibly be a burden? You’re my son.” He felt a bit better hearing that, but still he didn’t feel comfortable and neither did she. The tears rolled freely once again down his face and Gemma nervously fidgeted with her handbag, trying not to look directly at Darryl.
“There’s always my house,” said Paul helpfully. “You could have a bed downstairs. No awkward staircases and, with Doris at home all day, you won’t be on your own will you?”
“That’s kind of you, Paul, but we can manage,” said Gemma.
“No. I think that’s a very good idea,” said Darryl. “You don’t have to take time off work and I won’t be on my own. You can always come visit in the evenings after work.”
There was little hope of that.
In all the years that Paul had been living there, not once had she ever taken the time to ‘come visit’.
“Well, if that’s what you want…” she conceded, grudgingly.
It wasn’t really what he wanted. There was comfort to be had from being in his own bed, with his own stuff and in familiar surroundings, but somehow, as much as he loved his mum, he knew she would have greater difficulty accepting the ‘new Darryl’ that he had become.
“Well, I need to use the loo and I think we’d better make a move don’t you?” she said, clutching her handbag in front of her and looking directly at Paul.
“I guess.”
They said their goodbyes and left Darryl feeling somewhat shell-shocked. Why did she always have to be so confrontational? Why couldn’t she just accept that things happen?
He felt worse now than before they came and he had been so looking forward to it too.
Outside in the foyer things were getting heated.
“Do you have to be so cruel?” asked Paul when they were well and truly out of earshot of Darryl.
“Mind your own business, Paul. Don’t you think you have caused enough trouble, letting him ride that stupid bike?”
“He’s emotional. It’s not good to keep emotions like that bottled up.”
“Real men don’t cry.”
“Oh really? Where does it say that? Why can’t they show emotion and anyway, he’s not a man–yet.”
“No and we’ll be lucky if he makes it that far too, no thanks to you.”
“Me? What have I done?”
“Letting him ride your bike. Getting him mixed up in things he’s far too young for.”
“It’s no more than any father would do and besides, he has taken responsibility for it, which makes him more of a man than I think you realise. You want him to be a man and yet you won’t let him get there, you keep stopping him–why?”
“I think we’ve gone about as far as I want to go here, don’t you? He’s my son and my responsibility. I’ll thank you to keep out of it in future. Now I think it’s time to go.”
“Then I think you’d better go on your own. I’m angry Gemma and I don’t think it would be good for us to travel back together. I’ll get the bus if it’s all the same.”
“Suit yourself.”
Darryl’s face went from a twenty-to-four to a ten-to-two face in no time at all upon seeing Paul step through that door. His uncle looked a little sheepish and he shrugged, grinning at Darryl as he walked back to beside his nephew’s bed.
“I thought you’d gone, Paul.”
“You know how it is. People change their minds. I thought you could do with the company for the last fifteen minutes of visiting time.”
“You have no idea. Mum doesn’t exactly have a particularly good bedside manner.”
They laughed and joked for a few moments, but Paul’s face got serious.
“You’ve changed,” he said.
Oh God, he can tell. Is it that obvious? What am I going to do?
All comments and votes gratefully received.
© Nick B 2008
Excellently proofed by Gabi
Darryl starts to get to grips with his new abilities and has an unexpected meeting...
Chapter 3
Darryl went white. He knew that Paul was his uncle and his best friend, but didn’t realise what he had been through with regards to the operation and the effect it was having on him could be that obvious.
“What do you mean, I’ve changed?” he asked, trying to be as nonchalant about it as possible.
“Well, there’s just something about you that’s different.”
Apart from the fact the neither leg worked due to either bandaging or a plaster cast, various cuts, grazes, bruises and his left eye looked like he’d taken a slug from Mike Tyson, there wasn’t that much else that had visibly changed was there?
“I look a mess.”
“Nothing new there.”
“Thanks,” said Darryl dryly. “I can’t think of anything else.”
“I can’t put my finger on it either.”
They sat quietly for a few moments before Darryl said, “I know it’s not a nice thing to say, but I’m happier not to have to talk to mum. She can make things very difficult.”
“I know. Why d’you think I’m still here?”
“I did wonder. Did you two have a bit of a falling out or something?”
“Or something, yes. I don’t think we ever fell in, so we can’t very well fall out can we?”
That tickled Darryl and it was the first time he had laughed in three days.
“That’s better. I think it was your serious look, the frown. I don’t think I’ve seen you looking quite like that in all the time I’ve known you.”
Inwardly, Darryl breathed a sigh of relief. All the time he thought that Paul could see something else different, not that he simply was frowning more. Perhaps this was going to be alright after all. He could stop with Paul and Doris and try and figure this all out on his terms.
He was happier when Paul left. He had been cheered up and felt better than he had since arriving. What was also odd, was the hum that had invaded his ears, brain–whatever, was either something he had got used to or had gone away altogether. Whatever had happened, there wasn’t that jaw-jangling, teeth rattling buzz, hum or otherwise brain-numbing noise that had been such a pain over the last couple of days.
Paul had cheered Darryl up and put his mind at rest without actually saying anything. It’s funny how some people can do that and by nine that evening, Darryl was falling asleep.
It had been an exhausting day all things considered. Nurses came and went, bustling through their duties, some talking, some not and all inundating him with feelings of one sort or another. He wasn’t getting used to it inasmuch as he was becoming more prepared. After the tidal-wave of emotion that swept him out of consciousness early in the day, he made sure he readied himself although, more often than not, it caught him by surprise.
“You’ll get used to it,” said a voice.
“I don’t know that I want to,” he answered as his eyes shut firm and he drifted off.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” said one; a short, rotund woman with a kindly face.
“You have?”
“Do you not recognise us?”
“Um, no.”
“We’re your grandparents.”
“You can’t be. I know my nan and granddad and neither of you are either of them.”
“Your other grandparents,” said the woman, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
“Oh.”
“We’ve been waiting for this and now it’s finally here.”
“It is?”
“Yes. It’s the time that our first grandchild takes up the sight.”
“What’s the sight?”
“Your birthright. Your destiny.”
“Er, I’m not with you here.”
“It goes to the first born girl. It’s been this way for generations without fail and you’re the next in a long line of those who have carried this gift in our family. I have carried it and now you will too.”
“There’s just one small problem...”
“There’s no problem; for it has been ordained and has been thus for generation after generation. It is time for thee to–” said the other, a tall thin man, whose features looked very familiar, but who was cut short by the woman.
“Don’t start with all that ‘thee-ing’ and ‘thou-ing’, Padraig, just keep it simple.”
“But it seemed appropriate, Mariella.”
“Well, it isn’t,” she said, rolling her eyes and tutting loudly. “So don’t.”
“You don’t seem to understand––” said Darryl, quickly trying to prevent what appeared to be an argument escalating.
“Oh, but we do. We’ve been waiting for this and you cannot deny your destiny,” said Mariella.
“You can’t,” agreed Padraig, unsure as to whether to shake his head in agreement of the negative or to nod in agreement with the fact that Mariella was correct. The resultant ‘nake’ or ‘shod’ served only to make Padraig giddy and confuse all three of them.
“No, you don’t understand,” said Darryl. “It’s all very nice and I really hate to break with tradition, but––” he thought for a moment, scratching his chin trying to figure a way of letting these people down gently. “I don’t think I’m the one you seek.”
“Absurd!” exclaimed the woman, her eyes flaring. “Absolute rubbish! You are our first born granddaughter, our only grandchild for that matter and this is how we know that you ARE the one.”
“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but you’re wrong; I’m not really a girl.” He felt badly for being quite so blunt, but direct tactics were obviously the only way forward here. Darryl could see that these people believed what they believed and the only way to prevent this from going further was to be direct or as near a facsimile of direct as he could get.
The two people excused themselves and moved a few paces away into the room. There, they talked to one another, the conversation getting quite heated judging by the amount of gesticulating there was going on.
Eventually, the two figures turned to face Darryl, smoothed down their clothing and settled themselves before returning those few short paces to where they were in standing once again in front of him.
“Are you sure?” asked Mariella, scrutinising him from his feet to the top of his head.
“Quite,” replied Darryl. “Positive even.”
The two of them turned and moved away a few paces and once again, the conversation got quite intense amidst the flailing arms until Padraig advanced on Darryl.
“Look, this is all a bit ‘not as it should be’. This has never happened before. Just a minute, please,” he said and turned to go back to Mariella, who although it wasn’t easy to see, did not appear to be taking this well.
Moments later, they were standing before Darryl and it was evident from the tear-stains on Mariella’s face that she was one unhappy bunny.
“Um, can we get back to you on this?” asked Padraig.
“Of course,” replied Darryl.
“Thanks. You’ve been very understanding,” said the thin man and with that they vanished; quite literally, there they were–gone!
Darryl awoke with a start. He looked around him and could see the subdued night lighting of the ward. He could hear the occasional groan from the other patients and everything seemed to be as it should be.
“Whoa! Weird!” he muttered softly.
It was clear to him that all this worry about being turned into a girl was having a bad effect. The fact that he had suddenly developed this strange ability–whether permanent or temporary–was neither here nor there, really. He was more afraid of the trouble a change of sex would cause at school because of suddenly becoming a “freak” as he was sure he would be seen by most of them and that didn’t sit too well.
He had enough on his plate with finishing school without this sudden change of sex and whether either his friends or others at school would accept his current predicament as reason enough for becoming a girl–well, that remained to be seen.
It was with more confusion that he finally fell asleep again. Fortunately though, his dreams did not include two old folks with any more peculiar messages.
Although vision from the left one was blurry, his right one was functioning just fine and for the first time–pardon the pun, things appeared to be looking up. Without that incessant noise in his head all day, perhaps he could concentrate on getting well, on whether or not being a girl instead of a boy was as good an idea as the doctors seemed to think and how cool it was going to be spending time with Paul and Doris.
Unfortunately, his concentration upon anything was going to have to wait and the view from either eye was of a crowd of young people in white lab-coats all following one of the doctors around
“Here we have Mr. Groves. He had a nasty accident on a motorcycle and as you can see; his face seemed to take the majority of the impact upon landing. Not a wise choice to make,” said the doctor, which got a slight ripple of sniggers and giggles from the assembled students.
Darryl, though, was not impressed.
“How are we today?” he asked, flicking the pages of the chart back and replacing it back at the foot of the bed.
Darryl went straight into it.
“Well, you’re still trying to get over the fact that your wife left you and the dark-haired girl to your left wishes that she could tell her best friend how she really feels. The tall fellow to her right and just behind her is suffering from a hangover after drinking far too much in the pub last night–the Buccaneer wasn’t it? To your left, the gorgeous redhead would like to–“
“I think that’s enough. I meant how are you?”
“Well then why didn’t you say that?”
“I did.”
“No, doctor. You asked, ‘how are we today’. I assumed that you meant what you said and tried to give you as concise an answer as possible.” The assembled students actually laughed out loud, much to the distress of the doctor who immediately hurried them along to the next bed.
One of the students however was slow in moving with the rest of the crowd.
“How did you know?”
“I don’t know. I just did. Was I right?” he asked and the student blushed to the roots of her hair and nodded.
“I really don’t know what to do.”
“I would tell her. If nothing else, it will set things straight between you. I don’t know how she feels, but I don’t think she’ll be angry or disown you for it.”
“Thanks. I’ll try that. Was that true about his wife?” she asked, but Darryl didn’t know. He assumed so because it’s what his head told him, but who knows? He shrugged.
“Thanks again,” she said and hurried off to her colleagues.
He was a little shell-shocked after that. The fact that without any prompting from him, his head had supplied information, at least twenty-five percent of which was right on the button and presumably, since the male student with the hangover had had the good grace to blush, he wasn’t too far off the mark there either. It was eye opening to say the least and he wasn’t sure he wanted the responsibility of all this.
The more he thought about it, the more it grew, eating away at him.
“I shouldn’t have to think about things like this,” he muttered.
He felt dumped on; screwed into a round hole when he was anything but a round peg and once again, that frown reappeared on his face; that serious look that took him from a happy-go-lucky boy of sixteen to a serious young man who was trying to come to terms with the fact that he might now be a she, which would make him a serious young woman who, to add insult to injury, was going to be a serious young woman who could see into the minds of others.
This was turning into a few very weird days indeed.
Whenever she was around, his mum could make the atmosphere very frosty, with a canny knack of being able to alienate people for no good reason, and certainly make his life very miserable. So Paul and Darryl spent a good couple of hours just chewing the cud or shooting the breeze, whatever and thoroughly enjoying it.
“You have changed though,” said Paul suddenly.
“Good or bad.”
“Oh good; definitely good, but somehow, you look as though you’re looking right into people.”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Mr. Groves?” said a voice. “I’m sorry to barge in, but I’ve been running late. I wanted to say you’re free to go home tomorrow. We have a few things we’ll need to sort out with you, but other than that, you should be out of here by lunch time.”
“That’s good news,” said Paul. “I’ll come round at about one to pick you up.”
That left Darryl with something of a problem. Sooner or later it was going to come out anyway, but how long was he going to be able to hide the fact that he was no longer the “he” they had all come to know?
He slept little that night. He tossed and turned after remembering that he had told the woman in his dreams that he really was a boy and was quite prepared to prove it.
Did that mean that he didn’t want to be a girl?
Not in so many words, but his preference was definitely leaning towards staying as he was, with what he knew and more to the point, what he was truly comfortable with.
Perhaps it was just him failing to accept the inevitable; a failure to see that the old ways were gone and the new ways were fast approaching.
Maybe.
He was more sure that his worst fears were true and he tried hard to forget what was going on while ideas for how the dialogue to explain how once he had a fairly normal male groin area which was now gone and a pretty, feminine one was now in its place.
It was difficult to say the least, with alternatives entering and leaving his head like a bunch of X-Factor hopefuls, but with little or no success and as so often happens, he had no sooner fallen asleep when he was being woken again.
“We’re going to have to remove this catheter,” said the sister, drawing the curtain around his bed. “Now it might cause a little discomfort.”
© Nick B 2008
Excellently proofed by Gabi
Meanwhile . . .
Chapter 4
Annabel worked at the local hospital as an intern, but had problems with her feelings.
As far as her family knew, she was a completely normal young woman–one they were extremely proud of–as she was now working as an intern at the county hospital, having finished her medical training. They didn’t know however that their daughter’s feelings ran to loving another woman; her friend and flat-mate, Jennifer–something they would never understand, much less condone.
It wasn’t a precipitous situation though–yet, as she hadn’t told Jennifer about her feelings; about the fact that she was in love with her.
Provided she kept quiet about it, maybe it would all go away.
That was doubtful.
Every time she saw Jennifer, her heart melted. She just wanted to run to her and hug her–feel her close. Forget about intimacy, she just wanted to tell her that she loved her; that she would do anything for her but that as far as Annabel could see, it would lose her the friendship of the only person in this God-forsaken town that actually meant anything to her.
It was a no-win situation. If she came clean with Jennifer, then she would doubtless have to come clean with her family as well–eventually–and that would really set the cat amongst the pigeons. They would tell her she was wrong, that it was wrong; filthy, disgusting, immoral or something like that, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t like that at all.
She knew her parents and they didn’t like anything that went against the grain. Gays and lesbians went against the grain in their eyes.
“Sexual deviants,” they said. “Doing it only to shock with an inherent unwillingness to be “cured” of their aberration.” To them, it wasn’t natural, which for years, frightened Annabel as she knew from quite an early age that boys did nothing for her.
“God made men and women and that’s the way it should be–a man and a woman. Not two men or two women,” they had said and it left no room for doubt in Annabel’s mind as to where they stood.
Annabel couldn’t help the way she felt though.
But what if Jennifer didn’t like the idea?
Would she lose Jennifer’s friendship?
Would Jennifer reciprocate or would it just be shrugged off–something Jennifer would laugh about with her friends?
“Ha, ha! Did you hear what Annabel told me? Eeeyewww, gross!” God, she hoped not.
What if she did try and forget about it, what then?
Would it finish with her being all screwed up–unable to move forward with her life, unable to relax and be ‘normal’–however normality was perceived in this day and age?
Any way that she looked at it, she felt that everything would come crashing down upon her like some great tidal-wave of despair sooner or later.
Then something amazing happened: while being taken on a tour round some of the wards with a doctor, one of the patients actually knew that she had all this on her mind.
Never mind how he knew. He didn’t know himself, but he got it right, hitting the nail fairly and squarely on the head and for some reason, coming from him, it didn’t sound dirty, immoral or illegal, saying it without any judgement or even condescension and for the first time since she admitted to herself that she may be that way inclined; she felt she could actually tell Jennifer what or how she felt.
It seemed like an eternity between hearing what she knew to be the truth uttered from that young man’s lips, until she could actually go home, but she counted the minutes and in between the ‘revelation’ and the end of her shift, she talked herself in and out of being honest with Jennifer countless times.
She’ll hate me… she thought and then his words would come back into her mind. “I would tell her…” and “I don’t think she’ll disown you…”
By the time her shift had ended, she was all of a dither. Checking her pockets several times, forgetting her brolly, finding her brolly and then checking her pockets and handbag another couple of times, before finally leaving the hospital and making her way back towards home–the place she shared with Jennifer.
The closer she got the more her heart raced; more excited and filled with trepidation she became, but as the rain started to fall, her need to get out of the wet overcame her fear and she walked up the steps to slide her key into the lock.
She shook her umbrella, closed the front door and looked at the staircase before her. Just two more flights of stairs stood between her, her love and discovering whether Jennifer was for or against.
She knew now that the truth would set her free; that once she had admitted to herself and to Jennifer that she felt that way and had done for some time, her demons–well some of them at least, would be vanquished.
Slipping the key into the door to the flat and turning the key, she shrugged off that feeling of impending doom, took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Jenny?”
There was no reply.
“Anyone home?”
Again, silence.
There was a light on, but it was only the light that they left on to make it look like they were home and after Annabel had checked all the rooms–though there were only five: Kitchen, Lounge, bathroom/toilet, her bedroom and finally, Jenny’s, she knew that Jenny wasn’t there.
“Where is she?” she said aloud.
All that planning, all that soul-searching would it ever come to anything?
She cringed at the thought that now at home and in that environment they both shared, the dry runs in her head she went through seemed somehow stale, bereft of any real feeling.
“Hi, Jenny. I love you.” Nah!
“Hello, Jennifer. I need to tell you something. I think I’m in love with you.” She didn’t like that one either.
“I just called to say, I love you?” Hadn’t that one been used before?
“Oh, blast!” she cried and sat down heavily on the sofa.
“Hi, Jen. Um, I don’t know how to say this, but over the months that we have shared this flat, not only have I found a real friend in you, but I think for me, it’s gone further than that. Please don’t be angry with me, but I think I’m falling for you. God knows I have tried to get that out of my mind and anything like that happening between us, but I can’t…”
That sounded pretty good. Perhaps it would work too.
Now if Jennifer would just hurry up and come home… she thought.
At least two hours passed while Annabel sat, wondering where on earth Jennifer had gone. She had never in all the time they had been sharing this flat, gone out and not told Annabel where. Even if it only amounted to shopping, there had always been a note, a phone call or she had been told to her face.
Never this.
She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she shrugged that off as she did have a habit of fearing the worst and in all probability this was just something that happened on the spur of the moment; something that just happened and happened quickly too, stopping her from leaving that all important note.
She made something to eat, though she merely picked at it and the majority went into the bin. She turned on the television and tried watching something to take her mind off of the fact that Jennifer had not returned, but couldn’t concentrate. Finally, she went and ran a bath, but even then, she left the bathroom door open in case the phone rang and she missed hearing it with the door closed.
It did not relax her and the phone did not ring.
By one the following morning, tired and worried, she went to bed.
The day at work proved arduous. At the first possible opportunity, she phoned Jennifer’s work.
“Is Jennifer there, please?” she asked.
“Haven’t seen her for the last couple of days,” said a nice sounding man on the other end of the line. “I’ll just check.”
He wasn’t gone for more than a moment, before returning to the phone and telling Annabel that she hadn’t been seen and more to the point, hadn’t phoned in either.
“This is most unusual,” said the man.
“I know. She wasn’t home last night either. I have to say, I’m worried.”
“Well, we’ll mark her down as sick for yesterday and today, but if you manage to contact her, would you ask her to ring?”
“Yes, of course.”
She put the phone down slowly, the blood draining from her face.
This was the first time since she had even known Jennifer that anything like this had happened and it had been over twenty-four hours since anyone had seen her, she wondered whether or not she should call the police. She didn’t know though, whether she was actually missing after all.
Moving down the corridors between wards, Annabel was in something of a trance, floating along the polished tiles, past offices, wards, stairways and–
Oh my goodness.
Sitting at the end of the ward was the chap who had had told her what to do just yesterday.
She walked slowly towards his bed, wondering whether or not she should even be there. Did this constitute getting too close to the patients? She didn’t think so, but the fact that she found herself there at all…
He appeared to be sleeping and was wearing a sweat-shirt although due to the bandaging and cast, was not wearing anything below. Was he getting ready to go home?
She found the ward sister.
“Would it be possible to have a quick word?”
“I don’t see why not. I should warn you though, he’s not in a good mood.”
“Why?”
“I had to remove his catheter earlier and I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for that one. I did warn him.” The two of them laughed and Annabel made her way back across the floor to Darryl’s bed.
“Darryl?” she said softly. She looked at him and the slight fluttering of his closed eyes, told him that it was likely he was in REM state.
“Darryl?” she said again. There was no answer and she turned to leave.
“Dark; so dark and cold…”
“What?” she asked turning round quickly.
“Five of us…” he said.
“Five of who?”
“Cold… Dark… Can’t get out.”
“Darryl? Are you alright?”
“What?” asked Darryl, blinking away the light.
“You said there were five. Five what, or who?”
“Oh. I said that out loud did I?”
“You did. Are you alright?”
“I am, but I’m not sure about Jennifer, Suzie, Amanda, Natalie or Liz.”
“Jennifer? What’s wrong with Jennifer and who are those others?”
The ward sister wasn’t pleased with the sudden rise in the young intern’s voice and went over to see what was happening.
“Doctor, I appreciate you visiting the patient, but would you please keep your voice down, you’re disturbing the other patients.”
“Sorry, sister,” said Annabel, her face wet with tears.
“What’s going on here?”
Annabel did her best to explain and whilst it would have seemed that Darryl was out of his tiny, the sister was able to put two and two together thanks to the front page of one of the tabloids, which read “Four girls missing. Police to issue a statement.”
Jennifer made five.
“You have to tell the police what you know,” said Annabel, whose sentiments it seemed, were echoed by the ward sister.
“I don’t know how you know, but you really should pass this on to the police.”
Darryl was not happy about the prospect. For a start, he wanted to keep this ability quiet–though having given that doctor a subtle piece of his mind the day before, could hardly constitute keeping quiet and he didn’t think the police would believe him anyway.
On top of that of course, all he knew was that there were five girls, some of whom were in great distress, though why, he didn’t know. He also had no idea where they were or who it was that had held them captive.
What help could he possibly be?
© Nick B 2008
Most beaudaciously proofed at the drop of a hat by Gabi
Annabel gets a visit and the police get ready to make a statement . . .
Chapter 5
Annabel sat in one of the nurses’ common rooms with a cup of coffee that was rapidly going cold, having phoned the police about Jennifer’s apparent disappearance. Reading a newspaper that someone had left behind earlier didn’t make it any easier. The front page read as follows:
Daily Express
Fourth woman disappears – Police to make a statement later today
25-year old Natalie Page disappeared two days ago after going to the bakers for a lunchtime snack.Natalie’s boss, Stewart Noble said, “it was most unlike her not to be back early from lunch. I knew immediately that something was wrong.”
Natalie is the fourth woman over the last eighteen days to disappear from the area and there is speculation that they are in some way connected . . .
The lad in the ward she had been to see–or been drawn to, if that was a better way of putting it–earlier that morning, had definitely pulled something out of the hat when, the day before, he said what he had about what she wanted or needed to do.
However he did it; wherever he got the information, it was spot on and now this, she thought, studying the front page.
Did she believe him?
Should she believe him?
The fact remained that his rambling earlier may just have been just that–rambling; part of the dream. The names–well Jennifer’s name at least–could just have been coincidence, but then he had mentioned Natalie as well and to the best of Annabel’s knowledge, he hadn’t seen a newspaper.
He wouldn’t go to the police, refusing point blank to have anything to do with it and frankly as much as it hurt her to do so, she understood. There was no way that they would have taken his revelation with as much seriousness as she had and he would likely have been subjected to heartless, demeaning interrogation not to mention what would result for “wasting their time”.
For now, the fact remained that Jennifer was missing and Annabel was worried sick. Annabel’s pager beeped angrily and looking at it, she saw that there was someone in reception asking for her. Downstairs at the main entrance, even from behind, the figure of Annabel’s friend was unmistakeable.
“Sandy! What brings you here?” she asked.
“Oh, you know, I was in the area and thought I’d drop in,” Sandra said, though Annabel suspected there was something else.
“What do you want?” asked the intern, her eyebrow raised, arms folded and foot tapping.
“Oooh, you wound me,” laughed her friend and they embraced, air kissing before Annabel led her through to a waiting area. “Why would you think that just because I come to see you, I’m after something?”
“Because, dear friend, you always are!” The two of them laughed and sat at a quiet table to one side.
“So how are things with you?” asked Sandra. “It’s been ages.”
“Oh, you know; same old, same old. Overworked and underpaid as always,” said Annabel. “I have to say I’m pretty freaked out about those missing women. It’s all so close to home. Doesn’t make you feel safe does it?” She shuddered at the thought.
“Strange you should mention it. I’m going down to the police station shortly to hear what they have to say for themselves. Are you alright?”
“Well, I probably shouldn’t say,” Annabel said. “But I got pretty freaked out yesterday when some young lad told me some things about myself even I wasn’t sure of. Today, he said something about five women, Jennifer and that Natalie from the newspaper this morning, amongst others.”
“Jennifer?” asked Sandra sitting forward. “Jennifer–as in your flat mate, Jennifer?”
“Yes. She hasn’t been home the last couple of days and then this chap mentioned it earlier this morning. I wasn’t going to, but I just had to phone the police.” Annabel tried hard not to let the tears show, but they were starting to come thick and fast.
“You don’t think he has something to do with it do you?”
“No. No, definitely not. He’s been here since before she disappeared. He certainly couldn’t have known about me and––” she stopped herself, but could see Sandra had already picked up on it.
“You and Jennifer? Aren’t you the dark horse?” said Sandra putting her hand gently on her friend’s knee.
“It’s not like that…” Annabel started.
“But you wish it was?” The blush answered Sandra’s question.
“I haven’t told her,” said Annabel quietly, her eyes downcast.
“What were those other names?” said Sandra, taking a notepad and pen from her bag. “Can you remember?”
“Suzie, Amanda, Natalie, Liz and Jennifer I think were all the names.”
“That’s five now,” said Sandra, sounding very concerned.
“I know. I suggested he tell the police, but he won’t go and anyway, how can he possibly know all that? Even if he’s right, they’d never believe him.”
“Well, if it’s true that Jennifer’s one of them now, that means he’s hit two of the five names right on the button. Bit of a coincidence don’t you think? Is there any chance I can have a word?”
Annabel wasn’t sure about this, but she figured that Sandy, being a friend should be alright.
“You’ve come to ask questions, haven’t you?” he stated before either of the girl’s had even opened their mouths.
“He’s perceptive, I’ll give him that,” said Sandra. “What else can you tell us about what you said to Annabel this morning?”
“I can’t say,” replied Darryl.
“Can’t or won’t?” asked Sandra.
“Does it matter?”
“Well it might to those poor girls,” said Sandra.
Darryl seemed to think long and hard, glancing from Annabel to Sandra and back again.
“They killed Suzie Croft. The police found her about fifteen minutes ago near to Seven Dials; it was awful,” he said and the tears started afresh from his eyes. Annabel felt sick. Whatever ability he had, it was affecting him badly to even think about what was happening and if it was even partially as bad as he seemed to think, the idea of Jennifer going through the same was just too much to bear.
“What about the others?”
“I think that’s enough, Sandy. I think we should leave him be,” Annabel said quietly, putting her hand on her friends forearm to lead her away from the obviously distraught young man in the bed.
“But he knows,” Sandra argued, shaking her friends hand from her arm and turning back to the bed.
“I don’t care if he knows the Pope himself. That’s enough,” Annabel repeated, through gritted teeth, taking her friend’s arm and almost dragging her away from the crying youth.
How these people are found is something else entirely. Canvassing shelters for the homeless, favourite spots for tramps, watching railway stations, bus stations and airports is another and keeping vigilant is about all the police have for locating these people, short of sightings by members of the public.
Nowadays however, the public are loath to get involved.
Detective sergeant Ron Cummings had been given the dubious task of trying to make sense of these disappearances. Ron’s job was going to be hard enough, but he was also being asked to prepare and read a statement to the press.
“I’m not sure I should be giving this statement, sir,” Ron said to Detective Chief Inspector Rawles. “Wouldn’t it seem better coming from a more senior officer?” Ron wasn’t good at public speaking and wished to God that someone else–anyone else–would do it.
“Nonsense!” the chief inspector replied. “You’ll be fine. We have nothing firm to go on and it’s basically just an update, you know; keep those press bloodhounds off our backs. Besides, we have no proof that there is anything sinister about any of it and until we have more to go on, there’s little we can do, unless you have a crystal ball that is. Just let them know that we are treating it as suspicious, but at present don’t have anything to report.” The DCI went back to his paperwork without so much as another word–the kind of silent dismissal that left Ron in no doubt that he was the one with his head on the block.
Later that day in a specially set up room within the station, journalists had been invited to record the statement. There would be cameras, microphones and worse, questions.
Ron felt sick to his stomach.
Of course, hopes on both sides are always pinned on finding them all alive; and when the body of a young woman is discovered just an hour or so before the statement is due to be read . . .
By the time this news of this new development got back to the station, there was only twenty minutes before Ron had to go and face the press. He had already been sick twice and looked extremely green about the gills.
“You alright, Sarge?” asked one of the detective constables.
“Fine; I’m fine, thank you. I’m just not looking forward to this bloody announcement,” he replied somewhat curtly, but still managing a thin-lipped smile.
“Well, this might not make it any easier, DCI Rawles wants a word.”
“Bugger!” Ron exclaimed and went to the office.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes, come in a minute,” said Ron’s senior officer, looking at his sergeant over the top of his glasses. “I suspect you’ve heard?”
“Heard what sir?” asked Cummings.
“They found the body of a young woman.”
“Who is it?”
“That hasn’t been determined as yet, but so far, not many know about it and I would like to keep it that way. We’re certainly not going to make it known until we know who she was. Don’t want the press or public jumping to conclusions do we?”
“I understand, sir.”
“I knew you would. Good luck.”
Ron needn’t have worried. They were quite a civilised bunch who waited patiently for his arrival and he was greeted civilly–albeit through a flicker of flashes, clicks, whirring of cameras and the rustle of hand-held recording devices.
Detective Sergeant Cummings delivered exactly what was written, and no more, until the end and the questions. He was very nearly caught out by the blonde in the grey suit.
“Is it true that you discovered Suzie Croft’s body?” she asked and a murmur rippled through the assembly.
Cummings tried to appear nonchalant about her question–not an easy task, given that already he felt the flurry of questions that would undoubtedly follow the blonde’s statement. He did well because he was shocked, as Rawles had said no-one knew. This one obviously did. “I’m afraid I can’t say at this time,” he said in a measured tone and left the makeshift podium.
He was aware that he started to sweat almost immediately that last question was asked. He was sure someone would pick up on it and that led him to worry about the speech. He sat, pale-faced at his desk with a cup of iced water from the dispenser in his hand.
“Sarge?” said a voice, somewhere in the back of his mind as he wondered how that woman had known that.
“Sarge?” said the voice a bit louder.
“What?”
“DCI Rawles wants a word.”
“Shit!” muttered Ron and taking the last gulp of water and balling the paper cup, he threw it into the bin, where it rattled around the top a couple of times before landing on the floor under his desk. “Shit twice!”
“Come in,” called the DCI after Ron had knocked on his door. “Ah, Cummings.”
“Sir. You wanted to see me?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes. Close the door would you?” asked the DCI and removed his glasses, leaning forward on the desk, peering at the sergeant.
“You handled that pretty well,” said Rawles.
“Thank you, sir. It was a bit touch and go at the end though.” Ron was starting to relax. He thought he’d made a complete pig’s ear of it and was pleased that his governor hadn’t felt the same.
“Maybe, but you neither confirmed or denied any of it. I wonder; where did the “ice queen” get that information? We don’t even know name of the victim yet.”
“Well speaking personally, the team has been told to keep it to themselves and I don’t believe anyone has spoken out of turn.”
“Look into it, will you?” The DCI put his glasses back on and returned to his paperwork.
“Yes, guv,” Ron started for the door, feeling a lot less anxious than before.
“Oh and, Cummings?”
“Sir?”
“Well done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
PS
All donations in the comment/vote department gratefully receieved
© Nick B 2008
Most outstandingly proofed, edited and opinionated twice by Gabi
Darryl finally gets to go home . . .
Chapter 6
Darryl waited patiently for Paul, who was due to pick him up from the hospital later that day. It felt nice to be going, even though he’d only had the misfortune of spending three days in the hospital, but he really felt was long enough to come to the conclusion that he really didn’t like it there.
Of course it wasn’t his home he’d be going to, it was Doris and Paul’s and he had misgivings about that too–well, his misgivings were about Doris actually. She was a large woman, or more pointedly, tall; standing five feet eleven inches in her bare feet, with the build of an Amazon princess. This intimidated Darryl.
It wasn’t just her height; it was her whole bearing. She was strong-willed, opinionated, called a spade a spade and although he liked her, he got the distinct impression that she wasn’t overly fond of him. Despite Paul’s assurances to the contrary, he couldn’t just ‘not worry about it’.
Of course, for a sixteen-year old lad, the idea of a woman being stronger as well as several inches taller than him was disconcerting. The fact that she was also a good inch or so taller and probably stronger than Paul, was neither here nor there, it intimidated him.
He had already had an extremely unsettling experience with the young nurse he had previously spoken to about her “friend” and some woman she had brought along with her, which was something he was trying very hard to forget. It wasn’t just the image of the dead body either, there was so much more to it.
Afterwards, it brought back the feelings of the five women all huddled together in that smelly, damp, horrible place. It wasn’t a good start and now his mind was on going home with Paul, staying in Paul’s house with Paul’s wife and all the tension that brought–-it was all very wearing.
“Hello, young man,” said the ward sister brightly. “How are you feeling?”
“I just want to go home,” he replied.
“Won’t be long,” she said smiling and fussing as only nurses can; pulling him forward, plumping his pillows and sitting him back. He wanted to tell her that he was quite comfortable just as he was, but he didn’t. He wanted to tell her that it had taken him an age to get the groove in the pillows just right, but he didn’t do that either. It just made him feel more down in the dumps.
The idea of his own bed right then felt most appealing indeed, but he knew that trying to ascend those stairs into the flat he shared with his mother, would be next to impossible–-well possible, yes, but only with a block and tackle and the thought of his mum threading the rope and trying to do all the other things necessary–-now that was impossible.
The image that brought forth, made him smile as he tried to keep the thoughts and feelings of the others around him out of his head, whilst concentrating on his own worries.
Time went really slowly, past lunch and beyond. It was well into the afternoon before the ward sister returned with news of his departure.
“There has been a change of plan,” she announced.
‘Oh God, they’re not going to let me go,’ he thought.
“Doctor Jones has reservations about you going home in a car; he feels that although he’s happy for you to leave, trying to get you in or out of a vehicle that’s not best accessible for someone in your condition, would be unwise.”
‘They aren’t going to let me go home.’
“We’re going to have to get you home in an ambulance.”
He had held his breath while the sister was talking and the “whoosh” of Darryl’s lungs expelling what he’d been holding for the duration, was almost explosive. The smile that nearly split his face from ear to ear made the sister laugh out loud.
“I take it you’re looking forward to it?”
“You bet!” he said enthusiastically.
Doris however, was not happy about the impromptu change of plans. “Couldn’t you have let us know?” she asked, her face taking on a frown and her whole body, rigid. “You were lucky I was here.”
“I didn’t know until just before they came to get me. It was a last minute decision by the doctor.”
Tears welled up in Darryl’s eyes for the second time that day and he could feel that lump that was fast becoming an all-too frequent visitor in his throat.
“Are you alright?” she asked, suddenly softening.
“No, I–-I–-Oh, I don’t know,” he wailed and quick as a flash, Doris was there with a comforting hug.
This was all very disconcerting for Darryl. He’d been described as thick-skinned and the thought of getting all emotional over something that wasn’t even his fault to begin with was an alien concept.
His step-father had described emotional outbursts as ‘girly’, so as far as Darryl knew or understood, he wasn’t allowed to show emotion, let alone cry, so he didn’t–hence the thick-skinned comment, but now he had little choice and he sobbed almost uncontrollably as he had earlier when experiencing the plight of those poor girls in the grotty, smelly, damp place.
“How are you feeling?” Doris asked.
“Better, thank you. I just–-it wasn’t–-I didn’t–-” and it all started again.
He buried his face in her shoulder and with Doris rocking him gently and offering soothing words like “there, there” or “don’t you worry”, he managed after a good few minutes, to pull himself together.
“I don’t blame him. It’s a very nice place to be,” Paul replied with the grin of a Cheshire cat.
“I’m being serious, Paul,” she retorted, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.
“Ow! I don’t think I deserved that.” He winced.
“You deserved it alright, buster, and don’t you forget it.”
Paul looked pensive for a moment. There was something different about Darryl these days, he’d noticed that. It may have been the bump on the head or the fact that Gemma didn’t seem interested in coming to see him–-or a combination of many things.
After all, Darryl was young and although very grown up in some ways, he was still young and trying to find his way. Paul could understand how something like the accident and being stuck in hospital for a few days could bring about sudden feelings of depression, after all, there was nothing worse than being all alone in a crowded room–-even if that room was a hospital Ward–-especially if that was the case. In his opinion though, Gemma could have shown a little more compassion than she had.
“I’ll go and say ‘hello’,” he said getting up.
“Yes, and mind you don’t blame him for not being there, it was the bloody hospital’s fault,” said Doris with that frown on her face again.
“Alright, alright. Keep your hair on,” Paul replied, deftly side-stepping another swipe at his arm.
He went through to what should have been a dining room, but actually used to be a workshop and now had become a bedroom–-after a lot of work.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Better now I’m out of that horrible place,” Darryl replied. “Do you know what the worst part was?”
“Go on–-”
“It’s embarrassing––”
“––Hospitals tend to be like that.”
“I thought they’d cut off, um–-” he pointed towards his nether regions and blushed furiously.
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“Because I couldn’t feel it,” he replied. “I thought that because of that and the fact they’d put in a catheter, I’d been, well–-you know–-”
“It was necessary after they did some minor work on the gash in your leg. I can see why you’d think that though,” chuckled Paul.
“It’s not funny,” Darryl replied, pouting and taking a rather limp swipe at Paul’s arm.
“Don’t you start; I already got one of those from Doris!”
Soon, Paul could see Darryl was starting to flag. His eyes were drooping and he was starting to nod off.
“Well, we’re glad to have you here,” Paul assured and squeezed Darryl’s hand, leaving him to his thoughts. “And we’re glad you’re okay.”
Darryl smiled slightly as his eyes closed and Paul closed the door.
“Hello, Darryl,” said one, though because of the light, he couldn’t make out who it was. One was tall and thin, the other, shorter and slightly rounded and while he wracked his brain to try and put his finger on where he’d seen them before, he just couldn’t place either of them.
“We’re concerned,” said the other. This time, the woman’s voice was more recognisable. The slightly foreign accent was ringing bells in his head, but the placing of where he knew these people from was tantalisingly out of reach.
“You do remember us, don’t you?” asked the tall man.
At that point, they were close enough, so Darryl could make out the faces and yes, he did remember them.
“You’re my grandparents, or so you say,” he said, perhaps a little less pleasantly than he should have.
“Hmm,” said the woman. “I can see that things are no clearer.”
“What clearer?” asked Darryl. “You think I’m a girl and I’m not. I know that for definite now.”
“Hmm,” said the woman again, looking at the man. “It looks like we have some explaining to do.”
“Morning, sleepy-head,” she said in a sing-song manner.
He forced his eyes open and sat up. “Hi. It’s the first time I’ve been allowed to sleep all night. Do you know they used to wake me up to give me a sleeping pill?”
Doris laughed and placed the tray on his lap. “Is there anything else you want? Remember though, we don’t do cooked breakfasts.”
“No, thank you, this is fine,” he replied smiling and Doris turned to leave. “And, Doris?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for doing this. I know you didn’t want to, but I really do appreciate it and I’m really sorry about yesterday.”
“What happened yesterday?”
“You know–-I got a little–-er-–emotional, shall we say?”
“Oh that. Don’t worry about it and, Darryl?”
“Yes?”
“I really don’t mind you being here.”
The door closed softly behind Doris as she left the room and Darryl smiled broadly. He could smell the tea and toast and his stomach rumbled at the prospect of having some home-style breakfast, without the faux-pine odour of cleaning fluids, bed-pans or any other hospital smells that really are not conducive to getting better.
He pondered the dream of the previous night as he chomped his way through his Cornflakes and toast, wondering what it was about it that bothered him.
It was the second time he had had a dream like it and he wondered where it was coming from. There was nothing he could think of that would have prompted such a dream, as is so often the case with scary movies, but this wasn’t scary, just bothersome.
He could remember something about an explanation or some such thing, but an explanation of what was not forthcoming. He could also remember something about family, but again, it wasn’t within his grasp to put it all together.
It was a conundrum alright, but it was something that after breakfast was over, and he sat contentedly flicking through a book, he just put down to the worry about the possible loss of his manhood–which as it turned out was unfounded. He reached down and gave it a little squeeze.
It was reassuring to know that it was still there and as he heard the sound of daytime TV burbling away in the lounge next door, the little squeeze turned into something a little more–-
–-Or it should have done.
He couldn’t get any response from what would have been only too eager to become the centre of attention and try as he might, no amount of rubbing or even thinking about his giant poster of Debbie Harry lying on stage with her panties showing did any good.
‘Odd; that usually works,’ he thought and was about to try a bit harder when the door burst open.
“Hey, Darryl. You’re on the news.”
PS
All donations in the comment/vote department gratefully received as usual - and thank you for voting last time if you did!
© Nick B 2008
Gabi helped in a most awesome manner again, although I did change some things afterwards, but that was only because I forgot them first time round. Thanks Gabi
Darryl meets Detective Sergeant Cummings . . .
Chapter 7
Ron Cummings stood and took the grilling from his superior officer, quietly wishing he was anywhere but where he stood at that point in time.
Rawles threw yesterday’s Night Final edition of the local paper on the desk and it slid towards Ron. “I presume you’ve seen this.”
Ron nodded.
“And it was on the local news. I thought this was supposed to be kept under wraps–at least for the time being. Where do you think the kid got the information?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Ron replied.
“Who gave it to him?”
“The article said he got the information psychically,” Cummings said carefully.
“Balls!” Rawles snarled, practically climbing over his desk, his face reddening and the veins standing proud in his neck. “Complete and utter balls! There’s no such thing; it’s all parlour tricks. Have you looked into this boy’s story?”
“Only inasmuch as we went to the hospital and the staff there informed us that he’d been in hospital since before the fourth woman went missing. We ruled him out after that.”
“Well un-bloody-rule him then!” Rawles snapped. “Just because he wasn’t there, doesn’t mean he’s not involved. How else would he know?”
“No sir–I mean yes, sir,” Cummings mumbled.
“Well don’t just stand there. Go and do something and get my head off this blasted chopping block or you’ll be directing traffic before the day’s out.”
Ron went back to his desk, his ears still ringing. “Don’t even think about it, Harris,” Ron spat as Sergeant Harris stood by the side of Ron’s desk.
“Would I?” he asked, his tone mocking. “I was just going to say, it didn’t sound as though that went too well. We have an Ouija board if it would be of any help–” the rest of the office fell about in gales of laughter as Ron snatched up his jacket and stormed off to the sounds of people asking if there was anybody out there.
Some forty minutes later, he knocked on the door of a flat in a mews above a lock-up garage.
“Can I ‘elp you, mate?” said a grease-covered man in a boiler-suit, with something akin to an afro, who came out of the garage below the flat.
“I was looking for Darryl Groves,” Cummings said, smiling amiably.
“’E’s ‘ad an accident. Come off ‘is bike, ‘e did,” the man replied, wiping his grimy hands on an equally grimy rag.
“I know. Can you tell me where I can find him?”
“Dunno, mate. Fink ‘e’s gone t’ stay wiv ‘is uncle or summat.”
“What about his mother. Is she about?”
“Dunno. I s’pect she’s prolly at work.”
“I see,” said Cummings as the man eyed him suspiciously.
“You the filth?” the man asked. Cummings had to stifle a laugh at the irony, even though he hated the expression.
“That’s right. Detective Sergeant Cummings.” He was about to proffer his hand, but under the circumstances, thought better of it.
“I don’t know nuffin’,” the man said and turned away, closing the garage door behind him.
‘Shit!’ Ron cursed as he walked back along the uneven cobbles to his car.
The local paper lay on the front seat of his unmarked Sierra and on it was a picture of the lad in question. It was not flattering, but even so, he didn’t look all that. Certainly he didn’t look like some kind of Uri Geller or anything, but Ron’s training had given him the understanding not to judge a book by its cover.
Something didn’t ring true. If he had been involved in this sordidness, then why had he been so willing to pass on information about those he was in league with? Had they had some form of falling out and he was getting back at them perhaps?
It just didn’t add up. How could a boy who had no apparent connections with the women in question–other than that the last woman taken was the flatmate of one of the junior doctors at the hospital–know the name of the dead woman?
His boss may well have been right. Maybe he was involved, but somehow, that didn’t seem to fit. Call it intuition; call it what you like–even gut instinct–but Ron knew this lad was not involved and that it may well be true that he had dreamt the information, had a vision or whatever these people did.
Right now, it was the photo that was giving Ron grief. Where had it been taken? It looked very familiar.
Back at the station, Ron dropped his jacket on the chair at his desk and flopped into it. He just couldn’t place the scenery behind the lad. Okay, it wasn’t a very good picture to begin with, but there were elements that should have given the game away; elements that were poking at him. He knew the place, but where was it?
“Hey, Jim. Have a look at this would you?” he asked his colleague.
Jim stood looking at the picture on the front page of the Argus over Ron’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah. That’s that kid that’s supposed to be involved in the kidnapping isn’t it?”
“Don’t know about that. What’s bothering me is where this shot was taken.”
“Let’s have a look a minute.” He picked up the paper and looked at it closely. “Can I borrow this?”
“Be my guest,” Ron said, rubbing his tired face with his hands.
“Won’t be long,” Jim said as, paper in hand, he left the office.
Rawles did not look happy to see the Sergeant sat at his desk.
“What are you still doing here?” he asked as if Ron wasn’t doing what he should have been doing.
“I’m having something examined, Guv.”
“Best make sure you’re not here when I come back then,” the Chief Inspector said dismissively.
It amazed Ron to think that only the day before, he was being congratulated on a job well done and now, through no fault of his own, he was being blamed and made the fall guy for this apparent leak of information to the press.
Jim was back in no time.
“It’s a bit hard to see, but in the background there on the left, is a Post Office sign. I mean, the picture’s shit and looks like it’s been taken from a moving car or a train or something, but that’s a Post Office sign alright. Once I knew that, the rest was easy.” Jim paused, beaming, obviously for effect.
“Yes? And?”
“It’s the one behind the Cliftonville.”
“What, the pub by the station?” Ron exclaimed, jumping out of his chair.
“The very same.”
How could he have been so blind? Of course it was! He’d spent many a Saturday herding the “march of the morons” to and from the Goldstone Ground when Albion played at home. Thousands of Neanderthal football fans would troop over the footbridge and right past that very place.
“Thanks Jim,” he said, taking the paper out of Jim’s hands, grabbing his jacket and disappearing. “I owe you one.”
“You owe me more than that,” Jim replied.
He offered no explanation to begin with, but when Doris piled on the pressure, he explained about the visions of the women in the bad place and about seeing the body of Suzy Croft being dumped.
Doris was dumbfounded.
In all the time she had known Darryl, she had only ever considered him a child–and a pain in the arse at that. He always seemed to be around and Paul only encouraged him further.
But now it seemed different. She didn’t mind his being there at all. There was something about Darryl since he came out of hospital that seemed fundamentally different from the Darryl that went in. Perhaps it was the bump on the head. Whatever it was, she felt fiercely protective of him and seeing him in such distress over something like this, tugged at her emotionally.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” she asked.
“I did. I just–I mean, maybe not the right person, but it just sort of spilled out. I don’t know where it came from or how, it just did,” he said, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I thought I was helping–well, the junior doctor–or whatever they’re called at least. It wasn’t until she spoke to me that I realised that the two things were connected. When she came back with that other woman, the bit about Suzy Croft came out and it was awful.”
Doris could see the hurt in his eyes. This wasn’t the Darryl she knew and barely tolerated. She gave him a hug and smiled.
“It’ll be all right. When Paul gets home, maybe he’ll know what to do,” she said, brushing his fringe away from his eyes.
Even though he didn’t actually know who gave him away in the news article, he had a damned good idea and the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to keep that information to himself, though what he was supposed to do was something else entirely.
He knew that it was more than just an inkling he had about these women and he also knew that really he should have said something to someone, but what?
‘Hi, um, about those missing women … I’ve seen them.’ That would never work. He couldn’t say where or who held them. He didn’t even know what whoever held them was doing with them or why. Those were things he just couldn’t see.
If he had something more concrete, perhaps there’d be more legitimacy to going to someone in authority with what he knew, but right now, he knew no more than anyone else.
He suspected that the woman with that doctor girl had something to do with this part of things. He knew the moment he saw her to be careful about what he said in front of her and it seemed that his suspicions had been right. He had no idea that the names of those concerned weren’t public knowledge and now, not only had the information become so, but he apparently was the reason.
A tall woman answered the door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Darryl Groves,” He replied.
“Who are you?” she asked and Ron produced his warrant card. “You’d best come in. This is about that awful stuff with those women isn’t it? How did you know he was here?”
“It was a hunch. I remembered this place from when I used to be on the beat. There were always bikes out front and the picture of Darryl in the papers showed the post office sign behind him.”
“Good observation. He’s through here.”
Cummings followed the woman into a room on the ground floor that had been made up with a bed. The young lad sat propped up with pillows, his left eye puffy in shades of purple and yellow and around the outside of the iris was heavily bloodshot.
Overall, he was of slight build and facially, taking into consideration his bruising, he was almost pretty, especially with that long wavy hair. He certainly didn’t look the sort of person who would be mixed up in something as terrible as the kidnappings he was currently investigating, but as he thought earlier, looks can be deceiving.
“This is Detective Sergeant Cummings,” Doris announced. “He wants to ask you some questions.”
Ron sat on a ladder back dining chair next to the bed. “What can you tell me about this then?” he asked, pointing to the picture in the Argus newspaper.
“I didn’t know that had been taken,” He answered, “But now I come to look at it, I know exactly when it was taken and I’m pretty sure who took it.”
“Go on,” Ron encouraged.
“I’m not absolutely positive, but I think the person who took this was the woman who came to see me with a junior doctor yesterday morning.”
“Came to see you? Why?”
“She’s a friend of the young doctor that I’d spoken to a couple of times about her friend.”
“I take it that’s Miss Carter?”
“I think she said her name was Annabel, but I don’t know.”
“That would be Annabel Carter and you’re right, she’s a junior doctor,” said Ron, writing down notes in his little booklet. “What did Annabel’s friend want?”
“She wanted to know about the missing women.”
“What do you know about them?”
“Strangely enough, before I spoke to Annabel–nothing. As soon as she mentioned her flatmate, Jennifer, I saw her with a bunch of other women in this damp, cold and unpleasant place. I could hear water dripping and felt their anxiety too.”
“You saw?” asked Ron, not sure if Darryl had his wording quite right.
“In my head.”
As soon as he said that, Ron sat up. He was so matter of fact about it, like it was normal or something, yet at the same time, he didn’t appear wholly comfortable with the idea either.
“You had a vision?”
“I guess.”
“What about the next time–when Annabel came back with the other woman?”
“I didn’t like her. She seemed pushy, not really interested in Annabel’s friend, but after the information for a different reason. Annabel looked upset and as soon as they came towards me, I knew what they wanted. Well, like I said, not Annabel so much, but the other woman wanted to know all about these women. The moment she asked, I saw someone dumping the body of Suzy Croft up near Seven Dials. It felt horrible and I really didn’t want to have seen that.”
“How did you know it was Suzy Croft?”
“I don’t know; I just did and the woman with Annabel wanted to know more, but Annabel took her away.”
“I’m having trouble getting my head round the fact that you saw all this, but weren’t there,” Ron said, looking directly at Darryl.
“You want to see it from my side,” chuckled Darryl. “You have no idea how it makes me feel. It’s like I was there.”
“I don’t know how others are going to find this though. My boss–“
“Thinks that just because I wasn’t there, it doesn’t mean I wasn’t involved–I know.”
“How did you know that?”
“The same way I knew the rest of the stuff,” Darryl said, smiling.
© Nick B 2008
Gabi has done a totally sweet job on this--as always
“A baby-sitter?” he asked, incredulous. “Go . . . Before I change my mind.”
Chapter 8
“Are you going to be alright?” Doris asked as she and Paul stood in their glad-rags in the doorway.
“No problem. Go and enjoy yourselves. For some reason I’m really tired anyway, so I’ll just read a bit and then crash I think. It’s weird, I don’t do anything, yet I’m dog tired at the end of it.” Darryl said smiling at them.
“You sure?” she asked again, giving Darryl a critical look. “I can always ring Carole.”
She was a neighbour’s daughter and about the same age, or a bit older than Darryl. Doris had offered to call her over to give him some company.
“A baby-sitter?” he asked, incredulous. “Go . . . Before I change my mind.” He flashed them a big cheesy grin and picked up his book. “Honestly, I’ll be fine.”
It wasn’t long before he was nodding off. He knew this as he seemed to be reading the same paragraph over and over and hadn’t turned a page for some time. He lay the book down on the chair by the bed, turned off the bedside light and was asleep before he knew it.
Some time later, he became aware of someone grabbing him under his arms and dragging him across a hard, rough floor. His bare heels chattered over the sharp ridges and pitted surface and he could feel the pain as it shot up his legs each time his heels found more of the protrusions.
“Come on, love, don’t make it any more difficult than it is already,” a gruff voice said, thick with a foreign accent.
He tried to struggle, but he felt almost powerless to do anything–tired or just drained he didn’t know, but he just didn’t have the energy. In addition, bindings around his wrists prevented it. He tried moving his legs into a different position to stop his heels being cut and scraped on the abrasive surface but found that that too was not possible as he just didn’t have the energy, nor it appeared would the bindings around them allow it.
It was difficult to focus his eyes. It was dark and something rough seemed to be covering them. All he could see was a kind of outline and indistinguishable shapes as they passed under faint lights.
Then they reached somewhere where he could smell salty air and feel a cool breeze as it wafted silently up and across his bare legs and arms. He could smell too the aromas of fast food being prepared nearby, the sound of a radio or cassette playing in the background.
“Let’s take one last look at you, darlin’,” the man with the accent said and removed a course piece of cloth from about his eyes, looking at him through dark eyes, his greased-back hair, shining under the sodium lights of the alley.
He turned his head and saw only twenty or so yards away, people milling about. Some carried the white bags with the red logo of some burger bar or other fast-food outlet. The frontage of a shop–a hairdresser’s perhaps, stood in the background, its glittery sign the last thing he saw before he was hauled into the back of a van, the doors closed and once again, blackness engulfed him along with such fear as he had never felt before in his relatively short life.
Gasping and sweating, his hair flattened to his head, he sat bolt upright, a twinge of sharp pain shooting up his leg from the gash that had suddenly been pulled tight. He looked about him, the dim light from the hallway filtering through the door that had been left ajar. The clock on the wall showed it to be less than an hour since Paul and Doris left.
The vision had showed him somewhere other than where he was, yet at the same time, it was so familiar. Was what he had seen something that was actually happening, about to happen, or had it already happened?
He sat for minutes that felt like hours, debating what to do. He ought to stay in bed, but at the same time, this nagging feeling told him that he shouldn’t; told him that he needed to get to the phone and call that detective fellow; to tell him what he’d seen.
The phone though, was at the far end of the lounge and it hurt enough just going to the toilet. He wasn’t supposed to do anything like that, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Paul or Doris having to deal with his waste and although difficult, he had elected to hobble out of the bedroom to the toilet next door on his own.
That compared to the distance to the phone was child’s play, but somehow, he knew that if he didn’t do something soon, another Suzie Croft was going to show up in the next day’s paper and this time he was not going to let anything like that happen if it didn’t have to.
He pulled back the covers and gingerly swung his legs to the edge of the bed. Despite the bandaging, his right leg could bend–although not far and the further he tried to bend it, the more painful and dangerous to the healing tissues it became. Nevertheless, he had got out of bed several times and this wasn’t going to be any different.
He grabbed the policeman’s business card from next to the light and pushed himself into a standing position, the majority of his weight he tried to put on his plastered leg, as that one just ached, where the other one hurt. In a series of hobbles, lurches, grunts and squeals, he made it sweating and panting, to the doorway although in considerable pain.
The next part was to negotiate the hallway. It wasn’t far, but if it had taken him minutes to make his way ten feet across the room to the door, this wasn’t likely to be any quicker.
He lurched towards the stairs and stumbled. It was only a step, but in his current state, one step was like a pigeon step, the front foot, only just past the back one and down he went, bending his right leg almost all the way under him, causing him to scream loudly. Tears stung and his breath was taken away as he grimaced and fought back the urge to go no further.
He passed on the idea of getting up again and tried instead, to pull himself along the carpet of the hallway into the lounge. His right leg hurt so much that waves of nausea threatened to envelope him. As he clawed his way along the carpet, inching his way further down the silent corridor and closer to the phone, the searing pain–almost akin to being burned, caused flashes before his eyes, already stinging from the sweat and tears.
He was whimpering as he crossed the threshold of the lounge and continued to inch his way across the floor to the phone on his stomach and elbows, clutching tightly to the policeman’s card as he did so.
Soon, the sweating, the pain and the effort will all have been worth it and he lunged at the phone lead that dangled from the window sill. It clattered down in front of him, the dialling tone buzzing at him through the ear-piece.
He tapped in the number on the card and waited as it rang and rang.
“Hello?” he said as the telephone at the other end was finally answered. He was starting to tremble; the effort, the pain and fear of being rejected by the copper all playing their part. Plus, he was still lying on his stomach and uncomfortable.
“Who’s that?” a woman asked.
“My name’s Darryl Groves. May I speak to Detective Cummings, please?”
“Are you alright? You don’t sound it.”
“Don’t worry about me. I really need to speak to him. It’s urgent,” he breathed and waited as the line went quiet.
“Cummings?” said the detective.
“It’s Darryl, sergeant. I have some information I think may be useful to you, but I don’t know how long you’ve got.”
“Is this some kind of a joke?” he asked.
“No, sergeant. I have just seen one of the women being loaded into the back of a van. I can’t tell quite where–it might come to me, but I did see some things that I think may well point you in the right direction.”
“This is another one of your “visions” isn’t it?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“Look, I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but it’s gone nine and I was in the middle of my dinner. I can’t just jump up because you think you’ve seen something.”
“I can tell you that you’re no more than ten minutes from the place I saw. I think it was Waterloo Street, but I can’t be sure,” he said, breathing hard from the pain in his leg.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I stumbled trying to get to the phone is all and bent my leg. It’s hurting rather a lot, but I had to get to the phone and there’s no-one else here at the moment.”
“You don’t sound so good.”
“It’s nothing. Just please go and take a look will you?”
Darryl did his best to answer the policeman’s questions with as much information as he could remember from the dream–if indeed dream it was–and Cummings promised to go and check it out.
Darryl put the handset down on the cradle and rolled over onto his back. The pain still felt like a whole bunch of red hot needles being poked into his leg around the gash and he sat up to take a look.
The bandage was red–solid red and he had left a trail from the hallway into the lounge in trying to get to the phone. Moreover, the spot where he was currently sitting was wet with the blood that was freely flowing from his wound.
Suddenly he felt very faint at the sight and smell of all that blood and keeled over sideways.
“Can I help you–oh you’re that detective chap aren’t you?” Doris asked and then started giggling again.
“I am madam and I’ve come to see if Darryl’s alright. He didn’t sound too good on the phone earlier and once I’d been to Waterloo Street, I thought I had best check. I can’t seem to get any reply.”
“Well you wouldn’t. He can’t walk at the moment and . . . Wait a minute–did you just say he phoned you?”
“I did.”
All traces of semi-drunkenness had disappeared and both Doris and Paul seemed to have sobered up.
Their carefree and rather lackadaisical attitudes gave way to something much more urgent and Paul couldn’t open the door quickly enough. Switching on the light, they immediately noticed the trail of blood from beside the under stairs cupboard, leading into the lounge.
“Oh my God!” shouted Paul and ran into the lounge, stopping just inside the door and causing a pile-up of himself, Doris and the policeman who all bumped into one another in the doorway. “Darryl.”
All three rushed to the still figure lying on the floor, the telephone just inches away and a wide pool of blood emerging from under him.
“Quickly, phone an ambulance,” said Paul, rushing to the young man’s side and lifting one of his wrists to check for a pulse.
“How is he?” asked the policeman.
“Doesn’t look good,” said Paul. “I’m no doctor, but his pulse feels pretty weak and he’s obviously lost a lot of blood. Whatever he was phoning you for must have been bloody important.”
“As a matter of fact, sir, it was, which is another reason why I’m here.”
“You’ve found the women?”
“Sadly no, but thanks to Darryl, we do have much more now to go on. The lads are down there searching the place,” Cummings said brightly. “We may have a chance of getting those women out alive.”
“I’m glad to hear it. What’s happening with the ambulance, hon?” Paul asked Doris.
“They’ll be here as soon as they can. How is he?”
“Doesn’t look good, but I think he’ll make it–well I hope so anyway.”
“I’ll follow if you don’t mind,” Cummings said.
“Are you family?” asked the ambulance man.
“Of course, he’s my nephew,” Paul spat.
Paul climbed into the back and the driver closed the doors, before jumping in the front and with sirens wailing, they set out across Hove to the Royal Sussex County Hospital in Brighton–the nearest place with A&E facilities.
The traffic was quite light at that time of night and the paramedic* in the back was concerned over the blood loss that Darryl appeared to have suffered. Paul had to keep out of the way as he put him on a saline drip and monitored his heart-rate.
Paul could only watch and hope as the paramedic did his thing. Through the centre of Brighton they raced and just as they reached the Old Steine, Darryl started to shudder.
His face paled and as Paul looked on, the paramedic bustled about, shouting things at the driver. Paul noticed acceleration and as the paramedic continued to do things, they screeched to a halt at the entrance to the hospital and a bunch of people in uniforms came out to whisk Darryl away amidst much shouting of this that and the other–especially “stat”.
Paul was requested to wait in the waiting area as Darryl was wheeled further into the hospital with some very concerned looking people running after him down the polished corridor.
“Is he alright?” Cummings asked, his voice full of concern for the young man.
“I hope so, sergeant. I hope so.”
All comment-shaped donations, gratefully received . . . well nice ones anyway :)
* Not what they were called in those days, but it’s better than calling him an ambulance man.
© Nick B 2008
Despite being clobbered by Ang over the weekend, Gabi pulled out all the stops on this one. Thanks girly
“You mean he’s psychic or something?”
“It would seem so.”
“I shall have to watch what I’m thinking around him in future.” Gemma said wryly.
Chapter 9
Darryl could hear a lot of voices around him and could feel a lot of anxiety. None of it made any sense and all he wanted to know right then and there was whether Sergeant Cummings–and his men had managed to catch up with those poor women.
He was back in that all too familiar place; the white room. He knew who would be waiting.
“Hello. It’s been a while,” he said.
“We wanted to see how you came along,” Mariella answered by way of a greeting.
“And what do you think?”
“Not bad. You could use a little common sense though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you any idea what kind of danger you’re in right now?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“My point exactly,” said the short, dark-haired lady. “You have to learn to think. How ever well-intentioned your actions, they’re not much use if they’re going to kill you in the process are they?”
“Kill?” Darryl asked, his eyes going wide. “What do you mean, kill?”
“Your little escapade getting to the phone has opened up that wound in your leg. You lost a lot of blood and risked further damage to the tissue as well as infection. You’re lucky you didn’t lose it altogether. Looks like Paul and Doris got to you just in time.”
“Oh,” he said somewhat sheepishly. “It was an accident.”
“Listen to me, Darryl, you’re a very important part of our lives and by “our” I mean your mum, me, Padraig, Paul and Doris. You, my child, represent so many hopes, fears and expectations and with a little thought, there’s a chance that some of it at least may come to fruition. You carry on the way you are and you’re unlikely to see your next birthday.”
“But it was important,” he argued.
“It’s alright. I know and I forgive you. Just don’t make a habit of it. Never mind the mess you’ve made of Paul and Doris’s carpets, the near heart failure you gave them; imagine how they feel–how your mum must feel.”
“She doesn’t know.”
“She most certainly does,” Mariella replied hotly. “She’s been waiting with Paul in the waiting room for ages.”
“Why doesn’t she come and seem me then?” he asked, the sound of resentment in his voice.
“Because the doctors are still trying to put you back together,” she replied patiently.
“Sounds bad,” he said, looking mainly at the pristine white of the polished marble floor, but really, anywhere that escaped his grandmother’s angry gaze.
Mariella walked towards him. “You are a goose!” she said shaking her head and for the first time, hugged him tightly.
It was a confusing development.
Firstly, she hadn’t done that before. Secondly, he didn’t mind–at all, actually. In fact, it felt nice–comforting in a strange way; right in another. The third thing was how come he could sense it all? It was only a dream and yet, he could feel it, smell the soap in her hair; sense the body heat against his breasts as he reciprocated, hugging her just as tightly.
“You’re a slow developer, but they’re coming along just fine.” She smiled, looking directly at his chest and with a simple “goodbye”, she vanished.
Breasts? he wondered. I don’t have . . .
Oh but he did.
His hands flew to his chest and there beneath the simple tunic he was wearing were a pair of fledgling mounds, nothing to write home about–at least they wouldn’t be for a young girl, but he wasn’t a girl was he?
That simple pronoun “he”, signified that “he” was male, a boy, a young man, yet the protrusions on his chest started to call all of that into question. The memories of one of his previous conversations with Mariella and Padraig came back to him.
Maybe they were right after all.
God, he hoped not.
He had plenty to think about. He had admitted to himself that he was now capable of doing things that others couldn’t–at least not to the same degree or with such accuracy, but on top of that, he had now more to come to terms with . . .
His grandmother had been quite positive about his being a girl–something he had fought against and yet here he was with both hands on two small mounds that whilst weren’t every man’s dream pair, they were nonetheless–breasts.
They had all the hallmarks of breasts in their formative state. They were like small, round pancakes, each with a puffy sort of nipple. Both showed that they had every intention of getting bigger and more prominent. His nipples were actually quite sensitive too, by the looks.
He sat, his tunic pulled up while he craned his neck to take more of a look at these strange mammalian protuberances, which oddly, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes from–or his hands either, especially with the feelings they were bringing about.
Why is my body changing? he wondered. All this time, he had thought of himself as a boy and had several very salient points he thought would be proof enough of his masculinity.
Trouble was his masculinity was questionable.
It’s not that he wanted to be a girl; it was just that that was what seemed to be happening. Whether he liked it or not, it seemed that his body or brain, whatever it was that was controlling that side of things, had its own ideas.
The strange thing was, that more he thought about it, the less he found it bothered him. After all, it wasn’t like he had a choice was it?
He started hearing voices again, yet there was no-one near.
Some of them seemed to be agitated for some reason and there was an persistent, grating tone that he could hear just on the edge of everything; a constant, almost “whine”.
A flash of light hurt his eyes and the voices became more intense.
Another flash came moments later with more intensity. Darryl had to rub his eyes before things came back into focus and even in the dream room he wobbled slightly, his knees buckling. He looked around to try and fathom where the voices and that tone was coming from or what was happening, but as far as he could make out, there was no way in and no way out, what he saw was all there was.
Then something started beeping, the tone seemed to have disappeared and the voices around him seemed much mellower about whatever it was they were initially agitated about. Meanwhile, the white room started to fade . . .
“I can’t believe you went out and left him on his own,” she sniped.
“The only reason he is staying with us at all is because we are likely to be in more of the time than you are, so you have no grounds for getting shitty with us, or me in particular,” said Paul with uncharacteristic venom. “Regardless of what you might think, there is no way we could be there absolutely all of the time.”
“I wouldn’t have left him on his own,” she said petulantly, thrusting her nose in the air.
“No and I suppose someone else would have done the shopping.”
“No, I would have done that, but during the day.”
“What difference would that have made?” asked Paul. “We were only out for two hours, which is about the same time as the shopping would take. Besides, we have been there for him, which is more than I can say for you.”
Gemma almost seemed to have steam shooting from her ears at that remark and looked about to respond when a nurse came in.
“Could I ask you to keep it down, please?” she asked. Both Paul and Gemma looked shamefaced.
“Mrs. Groves?” she asked and Gemma nodded. “Your son is out of surgery. The doctors say he stable and is sleeping. I don’t think he’ll wake for some time, why don’t you go home and get some rest. Come back tomorrow. Things will look a lot better then.”
Gemma thanked the nurse then shot a daggers look at Paul who just shook his head.
Cummings returned as they were leaving and met them in the hospital entrance.
“Hello Paul,” he said and shook his hand. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s just come out of surgery and is described as stable.” Paul replied.
“I take it you’re Darryl’s mother?” he asked, turning to Gemma.
“I am. You are?”
“Detective Sergeant Ron Cummings,” he replied, cordially. “That’s a rare boy you have there.”
“Only just, from what I hear.”
“Yes, well . . .” he said somewhat awkwardly, fearing he may be stepping into some sort of family feud. “He has talent and at least he was trying to put it to good use. His information was of vital importance to us and hopefully will enable us to clear things up now.”
“Information?” she asked. “What information?”
Paul was making signals at Cummings out of Gemma’s line of sight and thankfully, the copper took the hint.
“I think I’ll let Paul explain that,” he said and turned to leave.
Standing outside in the cold night air, Gemma broke the ice.
“It looks as though I have missed quite a lot,” she said finally.
“Yes. Perhaps we should talk.”
“Do you want a lift?”
Nothing was said in the car through the half hour or so it took to get from East Brighton to Hove and when they pulled up outside Paul’s house, they could see that the lights were still on.
“I’d better let you go.”
“No Gemma. We do need to talk and if you don’t mind the mess, I think now is the best time. I know you’re busy.”
“Are you sure? It’s very late.”
“Looks as though Doris is still clearing up and I think she’ll appreciate a cuppa before I give her a hand finishing off.”
It was obvious that Gemma had no clue what Paul was on about and followed him into the house. The smell of pine scented cleaning fluid was abundant and Doris was on her knees, scrubbing at the red-stained carpet.
“What the hell–?” said Gemma, blinking.
“Ah. Yes. Darryl was pretty determined,” said Paul with a slight chuckle.
Paul had been right. Doris did want to stop for something to drink. It was nearing two in the morning and it was apparent that despite having been swabbing and scrubbing for nigh on two hours, still she could not get the congealing stain from the carpet.
“I’ve tried as hard as I can, but I still can’t get rid of the blood in here,” she said as she flopped down into a chair. Paul handed her a cup of coffee.
“That should help,” he grinned.
“Why, what are you going to be doing?”
“Helping. You don’t think I’d leave it all to you did you?”
“Damn right!” she said and laughed.
The laughter was contagious and pretty soon, despite the knowledge that they would probably have to rip out all the carpet from the hall and the lounge, they still sounded upbeat. That was something that surprised Gemma.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“What for?”
“For all this,” she said, gesturing around the wet and still stained carpets.
“Oh pah!” snorted Doris. “I can think of better things to be doing, but really in the great scheme of things, I don’t actually think it’s so bad. I’m more worried about him.”
“You are? I mean, you don’t?”
“Well no. True, he should have been more careful, but he has helped the police and I for one would rather he did that than kept it to himself, wouldn’t you?”
“How could he possibly have helped them?”
“It’s what he can do.” Doris said.
“You’re not making any sense,” said Gemma, so Doris went on to tell her just what she knew about Darryl, which wasn’t much, but it was enough to outline the fact that somehow, he had proved capable of knowing information about the women in the news and other stuff–stuff he couldn’t possibly have heard in passing.
“You mean he’s psychic or something?”
“It would seem so.”
“I shall have to watch what I’m thinking around him in future.” Gemma said wryly.
It had been a long time since she had felt so comfortable talking to someone else about family matters and had unfortunately tarred all others with the same brush as her ex-husband–Paul’s brother, who had little time for anyone other than himself and believed that her problems were her problems alone, not something she should burden anyone else with.
She had made her way to the hospital and wanted to be the first thing that Darryl saw when he came to. Further into the journey. She chuckled to herself for being so stupid. With round the clock supervision, it was unlikely in the extreme that she would be the first thing he saw.
It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she walked into the hospital with renewed vigour.
She was given directions to a different ward to that which Darryl had been in last time, as this time he was still under observation. The nurse on reception didn’t know whether he would be able to talk to her, but the doctor certainly would and she would page him while Gemma was on the way there.
The ward sister asked Gemma to wait whilst she informed the doctor that she had arrived and a tall, handsome man with a clipboard and a white lab-coat turned up minutes later.
“Mrs. Groves?” he enquired. “I’m Andrew Robertson, Darryl’s consultant. We put him in the observation ward as after his operation, we needed to keep an eye on him. It’s nothing to worry about, I’m sure, but he passed away on the table last night and we needed to defibrillate to bring him back with us.”
Gemma gasped. This wasn’t made apparent last night. “The nurse never–” she started, but he waved his hand to stop her mid sentence.
“We weren’t about to send you home worrying.” The doctor said smiling. “He was stable after all. It’s probably the trauma of the blood loss, but he pulled through. He’s a tough cookie.”
Gemma wasn’t quite so sure of things now. It brought home the fragility of life and she needed to sit down.
“I’m sorry doctor,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “I wasn’t aware of any of this. These last few hours have been a real eye-opener, I can tell you.”
“Would you like some tea or coffee?” he asked.
“Coffee would be nice. No sugar, thanks.”
Mr Robertson went off down the corridor and while he was gone, Gemma thought about this sudden influx of information about her son, none of which she had been aware of.
The doctor returned with a plastic cup full of vending coffee. “I’m sorry, it’s all there is round here,” he said, smiling.
“It’s wet and warm,” she replied smiling back.
Mr. Robertson took a pair of wire-framed glasses from his top pocket, flicked out the sides and put them on. “Is Darryl on some kind of hormone therapy?” he asked.
Gemma nearly sprayed her mouthful of coffee all over the corridor. “No. Why do you ask?” she spluttered.
“He’s nearly seventeen isn’t he?” Robertson continued, flicking through the information on the clipboard.
“Yes. He’ll be seventeen this December.”
“Good.”
“What’s this about, Doctor?”
“We probably wouldn’t have noticed had we not needed to use the defibrillator, but he’s developing breasts.”
All comments, votes etc . . . oh come on, you know the drill
© Nick B 2008
Big up to Gabi for giving this a polish . . .
“W-who a-a-are you?” he stammered, trying to back away from the girl . . .
Chapter 10
Darryl had been wrestling with a whole cartload of new things that since the accident had been dropped in his lap. There were the visions and other strange abilities he had suddenly found he had and now his physical development seemed to have taken a decidedly feminine turn.
In some respects, this “Sight” thing had both advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, he was privy to matters that others were not, but at the same time, sometimes this information could be quite distressing. Since it first manifested itself, he had been shocked and upset by what he had been shown on more than one occasion. This was one aspect that he wouldn’t have minded not having at all. There seemed to be responsibility there that really, he would rather not have had to think about.
Then there was the fact that physically he was male and yet was starting to develop breasts, which was unnerving, yet at the same time, had an odd sort of “rightness” he wasn’t expecting. Perhaps that “rightness” was due to what his grandmother had been telling him, yet somehow, didn’t seem to be the case.
All he knew was that there was a lot happening and he didn’t know which way to jump. It turned out that his mother had been told about his unusual developmental spurt.
“It’s okay, Darryl,” she said, taking her son’s hand and patting it gently. “The doctor says they will go. It’s not uncommon for it to happen when boys of your age are growing up.”
Darryl didn’t think it was that straightforward, but then his mum didn’t know what he did.
Once she had gone, he had a chance to really think about things.
There was the fact that since his accident, he and Doris had been getting along much better. Even Paul had noticed he’d changed and that his change was for the better, though Paul couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Grandmother too was pleased with the way he was coming along, but he suspected that her delight in his progression did not have the same reasoning as Paul or Doris’s.
He thought at first that his new-found relationship with Doris was due to his abilities–his ability to know what she was thinking and was then able to avoid putting his foot in it as he had previously been known to do; however the more he thought about it, the more he realised that there had to be something else behind it.
His conclusion was mainly due to the fact that his “insights” into Doris’s mind hadn’t been that frequent and Doris’s change of heart towards him had been well, immediate, but more than that was his relationship with Anne.
She was the woman in the next bed whose visitors to whom he had spent a lot of time chatting. The initial introductions had been simply that he was Darryl, not Darryl, the young lad in the next bed. None of them–including Anne had the faintest idea that he was male and during one of the visiting times one of Anne’s friends actually referred to him as “she”.
“If I had her looks,” the woman had said and Darryl was shocked to the core. The wave of confusion that swept over him at that moment was colossal.
He didn’t want to be a girl. He didn’t want The Sight and all the responsibility that it entailed. He just wanted to go back to being plain Darryl, the boy who was just about to leave school and take up his place in the world.
That night, his grandmother “visited”. He found himself in that white room, sitting with his head in his hands as tears streamed down his face.
“I can’t do this,” he said.
“Do what?” asked his grandmother, placing her hand gently on his shoulder.
“This,” he said, standing and gesturing as if trying to encompass everything.
“You mean?”
“You know, this Sight thing, being a girl. I’m not a girl and was never meant to be one. If I were, don’t you think I would have been born that way?”
Mariella shrugged. “Some aren’t.”
Darryl stopped dead in his tracks.
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes the brain works one way and the physical works another.”
“But I am a boy,” he said, balling his fists and shaking them.
“Are you?”
“Of course. I have a willy for a start.”
“Doesn’t make you a man.”
“I didn’t say I was a man, I said I was a boy.”
“What’s the difference other than age?”
Darryl couldn’t answer that one.
“Just think what you are giving up, Darryl. You have a rare gift and you want to throw it away?”
“I never asked for it.” He turned away from his grandmother, knowing he was being petulant and childish, but his grandmother remained calm.
“Having a gift like The Sight is like being tall or having brown eyes. It’s not something you ask for, it’s something you’re given.”
“I wish it were that simple, Gran,” he said. “Right now I don’t feel that it’s a decision I can make.” He went and sat back down, resting his head in his hands again.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Mariella said, quietly coming up behind him and resting both hands upon his shoulders. “I think you’re very brave. I hadn’t really taken the time to consider what you’re going through before. It wasn’t just an accident that brought you to this point, but a whole lot of things. I only had the thought of being able to pass on The Sight but I never once considered what it would mean to you.”
“Can’t I just stay as I am?” he asked.
His grandmother smiled. “No child, I’m afraid not. You see, the reason why the women in the family have this gift and not the men, is because women’s brains work differently. They’re wired differently, which means we don’t think the same as men, neither do we do most things the same as men.”
“So you mean, if I were to stay as a boy, I would lose The Sight altogether?”
“I don’t know, it’s most probable; either that or you would retain your gift but not function fully as a male.”
Darryl understood that, for it was already happening. It was all starting to make more sense. The fact that he wasn’t working right may well have something to do with the fact that he has the gift. He now understood that he couldn’t have one thing without the other.
He looked up at his grandmother and put his hand on top of hers. Neither said another word, they just stood or sat for a few moments before everything faded away.
“For God’s sake stop that,” someone cried, but it didn’t cease, desist or even change its pace. It just continued its measured drip, drip, drip.
Someone else was sobbing, but there was no way of knowing who.
The smell was getting worse too, but that was unlikely to lessen since no-one was allowed to move, let alone visit the little girl’s room and it had been days since anyone had even been down there.
A small light appeared in the distance, bobbing and swaying gently, growing as it neared.
A man swore. “Bloody hell! It stinks down here. You’re going to have to move them sooner rather than later or we’ll start getting complaints.”
“I’ll move them when I’m good and ready,” said another man and the light continued to bob and sway, getting ever bigger as they approached.
“What do you want them for anyway?” said the first.
“That’s my business.”
“Only asking.”
The men were only a short distance away when they stopped.
“I’m not going any closer,” said the first man. “My eyes are starting to sting.”
“Stop your bloody moaning for fuck’s sake. I won’t be a minute.”
The light swooped around in a wide arc, illuminating each of them in turn, dazzling and making them squint and try to turn away, but with their bonds as tight as they were, there wasn’t much room for manoeuvring.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the stiffness that had invaded their muscles and joints, there was no escape.
“Get the one with the short dark hair,” the second man ordered.
“Why me? This has nothing to do with me.” The first one grumbled.
“Just do as you’re told,” said the second.
Muttering and grumbling, the man stepped gingerly across the wet concrete floor towards the girl whose face and upper body was being illuminated by the other man’s torch.
“Come on. We haven’t got all day,” the man with the torch shouted irritably.
“Alright, but I don’t know what I’m stepping in here and she smells bad,” whined the first.
The man with the torch started to say “if I have to come over there . . .” but the other picked up the girl in the torchlight and started to drag her towards his colleague.
She didn’t want to go and fought valiantly, but she had eaten nothing in days, drank nothing in just as long; had been bound in one position for who knew how long and had little fight in her.
“Careful, don’t damage the merchandise,” said the torch-bearer and as the labouring figure of his colleague continued to drag the moaning girl along the rough concrete surface, the light once again diminished and the remaining women breathed out, some seemed relieved although it’s doubtful that’s what was going through their minds.
“So what you going to do?” said the man with the girl as they disappeared out of earshot.
Darryl awoke in a cold sweat, looking around him, recognising nothing of his surroundings. They looked so similar to the dreamscape he had just witnessed in his dream.
It was cold and the pungent smell of excrement and urine was making his eyes water.
“It’s not pleasant is it?” said a voice.
Darryl spun round to see something that made him heave.
She was about his height and even in the half light he could see her perfectly clearly. Once he calmed from the shock, he wondered how this was possible.
“Sorry,” she said. “But I had to get your attention. This seemed the best way of doing it.”
“W-who a-a-are you?” he stammered, trying to back away from the girl whose neck was gaping open, with black gobbets of blood congealing around the open wound and whose skin had taken on a sickly green cast.
Her face was vaguely familiar, but battered and bruised beyond recognition. Her eyes had a kind of milky greyness about them that with the smell of the place, was doing its utmost to turn his stomach–and succeeding.
“I’m Suzie; Suzie Croft,” said the “thing” before him. She absently scratched at her chin and flakes of skin tumbled like green snow.
Darryl retched.
“I’m sorry. I’m not holding up too well, but I have to show you this. Will you be alright?”
“I don’t know,” said Darryl wiping his lips on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “But I’ll try.”
© Nick B 2008
Thanks to Gabi for doing that voodoo that she do . . .
“There’s so much . . .” Darryl whispered, shaking his head. “So very, very much . . .”
Chapter 11
In the blink of an eye, the scenery changed.
They were in now another room about the size of the average lounge, with a large bay window looking out over the street, but Darryl recognised nothing as the bright sunlight was piercing compared to the darkness that they had just left and he was still having trouble focussing.
It smelt dusty and mouldy; like it hadn’t been lived in or even aired for some considerable time. Darryl’s eyes adjusted to the brilliance and he went across to the window.
Outside was a bustling road. Two bus stops below had several people completely standing in the sunshine, unaware of the horrors that were about to befall his strange companion. Over the road, a solicitor’s office added one more note of realism to this strange situation and also recognition to the area.
The door banged open and there was a muffled cry.
“Hey! Be careful!” said someone from outside the door.
“Shut up!” said another. “If you weren’t such a weakling I wouldn’t be carrying her now would I?”
The voice was familiar and belonged to a man who it transpired, was about five-ten and was carrying Suzie. Darryl couldn’t be sure but it seemed like he was probably the same man who had been carrying the torch back in that dark, smelly place they had just been in.
The man didn’t seem to care about being gentle either, carrying her over his shoulder and catching her head on the door frame as they entered the room, causing another cry of anguish.
Shocked at the scene, Darryl turned to look at the other “Suzie”, who grinned back in a rather unnerving or even disturbing manner. In the daylight, she looked even more hideous than she had before and he was oddly pleased that the men couldn’t see what he could.
The man dropped, or rather threw Suzie to the floor and dusted his hands off.
“You’re right Adrian. She is a little ripe isn’t she? Go find out whether the water is on. I think we need to give her a bit of a hose-down.” Adrian–the smaller one, nodded and went out.
Darryl studied the man who had brought Suzie in. He had no idea what he had planned just by looking at him, but he knew how it all ended, he was sure from the look of Suzie that he didn’t want the gory details.
The only trouble was he knew he was going to get it–in Technicolor ®.
The man poked the prone figure before him with his foot and rolled her onto her back. Darryl could see that she was suffering and was surprised that she didn’t cry out.
“How does it feel to be the first?” he asked, in a truly derisive tone.
“Fuck you!” she spat.
All the man did was chuckle. “Yes and Adrian too. Don’t forget him.”
“I’d rather die,” she said through clenched teeth, sneering back at him.
Just at that moment, Adrian came back into the room.
“The water’s on, Ian, but there isn’t any heater, so it’s a bit cold,” he informed his friend.
“It isn’t for us, dipstick,” said Ian with forced patience. “It’s for her, now take her to the bathroom and bring her back–clean.”
Adrian grabbed Suzie’s arm and with great effort, hoisted her to her feet, muttering and cursing at Ian.
Suzie was not impressed and struggled, but even though Adrian was the smaller of the two, he was more than capable of preventing the bound Suzie from getting out of hand.
Ian busied himself by staring through the dust-encrusted window while the dead Suzie and Darryl looked on.
“This is it,” Suzie informed him.
“What?”
“Watch.”
There was a loud splash and a thumpthumpthumpthumpthump as Suzie ran at down the stairs.
“Ian!!” shouted Adrian.
Startled, Ian turned on his heel to head out of the door and straight into a naked Suzie.
“What have we here?” he asked, grabbing her arm.
“Ow!” she squealed.
“Now I’d have thought you’d have had more sense,” he said quietly and slapped her hard across the face, followed by one from the opposite direction, scratching her across the cheekbone with the ring on his left little finger.
Tears flowed copiously down Suzie’s cheeks as she refused to cry, staring at Ian instead with a look of defiance.
“Feisty little shit, aren’t you?” he asked, grinning. “Try this,” he said and punched her in the face sending her toppling backwards on to the stairs.
“FUCK YOU!!” she cried, trying her best to cover herself.
“I thought we had already established that,” he said, grinning.
Adrian slopped and squelched his way down the stairs, looking daggers at Suzie.
“What the hell happened to you?” asked Ian, looking at the dripping Adrian with a look of mild curiosity.
“I cut the tape off her arms to get her clothes off and she tripped me into the bath,” Adrian replied.
“Bloody idiot. Didn’t it occur to you to just cut her clothes off? She won’t need them again anyway.”
Suzie looked anxiously at the two men, obviously wondering what that last statement meant, but Ian grabbed her arm again, dragging her kicking and screaming along the landing and down another flight of stairs out of Darryl and Suzie’s sight.
“I thought you said . . .” Darryl began, just as the scenery changed again and he found himself in what looked like a cellar.
The only light seemed to be coming from one of those grated windows just below ground level, although that didn’t amount to much thanks to decades of built-up street grime and mould, all green and disgusting-looking.
The smell of mildew and other unsavoury things–which Darryl preferred not to think about, accosted his nostrils and the dust appeared to be inches thick. Age old bric-a-brac was scattered across the stone floor, on tables and dilapidated shelving, all of which had seen better days–much better days.
“What is it with these two and dark smelly places?” Darryl asked rhetorically.
Suzie shrugged shaking her head and the two of them returned their attention to the sight before them.
Throwing Suzie to the floor, Ian pulled on a small string suspended from the ceiling, and an un-shaded light lit up with a click. The poor excuse for a bulb, fly-blown and yellowed, did its best to shed some light on the miserable scene that was slowly unfolding beneath it.
Ian started to unbuckle his belt and undo the top button of his trousers, pausing before drawing the zipper down, to reach instead into the inside pocket of his leather jacket.
“Insurance,” he laughed, taking out a large knife and twisting it this way and that, causing what little light there was to catch on the highly polished blade. Then he stabbed it into an old worn pine table that was so thick with dust, it looked like it was covered in grey velvet.
Suzie looked at the knife–a smaller version of the one used by Mick Dundee, but no less sharp–then back at her captor as he dropped his trousers round his ankles and proceeded to push his underwear down too.
“Come here–bitch!” he demanded.
Suzie started to rise, shaking noticeably.
“Don’t bother getting up, I think you’ll do better on your knees,” he advised, grinning insanely.
“Now, get those sweet red lips round this . . .”
Suzie steeled herself as she advanced and kept an eye on the knife. Meanwhile, the other Suzie spoke quietly to Darryl.
“I thought there’d be a way I could get the knife away from that big idiot, poke him with it and get away,” she said.
Darryl was sickened, knowing as she moved slowly through the dust, across the floor on her knees, towards that disgusting phallus, that whatever it was that happened was very close to happening and he couldn’t take it.
He couldn’t face seeing Suzie in pain, couldn’t bear the thought of them doing what they did that left her as she now was. He wanted to do something about it; wanted so bad to be able to stop it and let everything go back to the way it was.
There was a scream and Darryl grimaced, opening his tightly shut eyes just enough to be able to squint through and was absolutely shocked at what he saw.
Ian’s dick was in Suzie’s mouth and it was he who was screaming.
“Arghhhhhh! Gerreroffome!” he shrieked.
Darryl realised that Suzie was biting and biting hard. Ian’s arms were flapping around uselessly as he tried to either slip out backwards or do something to make her let go, but it seemed that she had her teeth sunk deeply into his flesh and any movement whatsoever on his part caused considerable pain.
Darryl smiled a grim smile as he saw that thin trickle of blood flow from the corner of Suzie’s mouth and he knew that she was giving as good as she got– at the moment anyway.
His satisfaction though was short lived.
Ian did not stop yelling. Tears were flowing down his face and it was Adrian who had to stop things.
He wrenched the knife from the table-top and grabbed Suzie by the hair. Ian let out another blood-curdling scream as Adrian reached with the knife under Suzie’s neck. With his eyes closed and a look of grim determination, he drew the knife towards him.
“NO!” shouted Darryl and ran forward to try and stop Adrian from taking Suzie’s life, but was completely ineffectual. “Stop!”
His hands could not make contact with either of the men or Suzie either as she slipped gently off Ian’s tool to the floor, her eyes staring out blankly as the last spurts of blood shot from the gaping wound in her neck and through Darryl over the dust-covered stone.
“Can’t you do something?” he shouted at the other Suzie. She just ignored him, or couldn’t hear as she stood over her own body, watching the pool of blood get bigger and bigger…
“There’s so much . . .” Darryl whispered, shaking his head. “So very, very much . . .”
“She’s dead,” he replied, his face as white as the linen on the bed; his eyes blankly staring forward, not even appearing to register the person beside him. “Dead–I saw her. There was so much blood. It was everywhere.”
“Who’s dead, Darryl?”
“Suzie Croft,” he replied.
“It was a dream, a bad dream,” said the voice soothingly, but Darryl wasn’t having any of it.
“It was no dream, I was there. It was awful.”
The nurse ran from the ward and into the Sister’s office.
“I think our young man witnessed a murder. Worse still, he may even have committed it.”
“What?”
“The Groves boy,” the nurse said, clearly agitated. “He’s just said he saw Suzie Croft get her throat cut.”
In moments, the ward Sister and the nurse were back at Darryl’s bedside. He was still mumbling something about Suzie Croft, about the blood. He seemed unable to stop focussing on the blood.
“I think we’d better call the authorities.” Sister said, darkly and left the nurse looking worried by Darryl’s side.
One such was Annabel. The buzz that surrounded the ward was too much to ignore, but once she found out what had happened, she went to a phone immediately.
“Is that Detective Cummings?” she asked.
The phone call was over in less than two minutes and shortly afterwards Cummings passed through the main doors to be met by the junior doctor, Annabel Carter.
“What the hell’s happening?” he asked as she led him through into the body of the hospital.
“I don’t know. I think Darryl’s had one of his visions and the ward Sister took it that he was there in person. Now everyone thinks he’s the one who killed Suzie Croft,” she said as they strode purposefully towards the lift. Annabel pushed the button to call it.
“That’s absurd,” said Cummings. “He was here when that happened.”
There was a soft “ding”, the doors to the lift opened and the two stepped inside.
“What’s happening now, you said there was a police presence?”
Annabel pressed the button for Darryl’s floor. “I don’t know about presence, more like a reunion.”
“That bad?”
“You’ll see.”
A moment later, Annabel and Ron stepped out to see several uniformed policemen strategically placed up and down the corridor. The ward Sister didn’t look particularly impressed.
“This is a hospital,” she fumed. “If I’d have known you were going to go this far Chief Inspector–”
“We can’t afford to take any chances, Sister.”
“But he can’t walk for God’s sake. Where could he possibly go?”
Ron and Annabel walked down the corridor and turned left into Darryl’s ward. A tall police constable was about to bar his way, but without so much as a change in pace, Detective Sergeant Cummings flashed his warrant card.
“This is Doctor Carter,” he said authoritatively and the young policeman stepped aside.
“Hi, Darryl,” said Annabel.
“Thank God!” Darryl exclaimed. “This place has gone nuts. You have no idea how nice it is to see a friendly face . . . Well two. Hello Sergeant Cummings.”
“How are you doing?” Ron asked.
“Not too bad. I’m afraid I got a bit wound up over seeing Suzie Croft’s death. I think this lot think I’m involved, but I’m not–honest.”
“You don’t need to convince us, Darryl. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and have a word with the Chief Inspector,” Ron said smiling and with that, left Annabel and Darryl on their own.
Detective Chief Inspector Rawles was still in animated discussion with the ward Sister, who was threatening all sorts of trouble if he didn’t do something to greatly reduce the number of policemen in and around the ward.
To Rawles’ delight, Cummings turned up just in the nick of time.
“Ah, sir,” he said. “Could I have a word?”
“Yes, Sergeant. Would you excuse me please Sister.”
The ward Sister rolled her eyes and turned away.
“What is it, Cummings?” he asked, all semblance of camaraderie disappearing very quickly indeed.
“I think you might be making a mistake here, sir,” he said in sotto voice.
“Oh?” said the superior officer. “How so?”
“Well for a start, Groves was in here when Suzie Croft was murdered. There’s no way he could possibly have been there.”
“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved,” said the inspector stubbornly.
Ron tried to regain his composure. If Rawles could possibly pin this on Darryl, it would be a quick end to the whole affair, but as much as Cummings would like to have seen Rawles hoist by his own petard, it would never have got that far.
He had had the television on before he left and as he was about to leave, the reporter on-screen was already telling the story of how the police had got a positive lead on the murder of Suzie Croft and the abduction of the other women.
He was just about to turn the set off when the badly blurred and poor quality picture of Darryl leaving the ambulance flashed up on screen.
“The police don’t know whether this new suspect is directly involved . . .” the newscaster intoned.
“Shit!” he exclaimed.
I can assure you, sir, Groves is no way involved.”
Rawles rolled his eyes. “Not still trying to convince me the boy’s psychic are you?”
“No sir, just that he cannot have been involved in the murder of Suzie Croft or the abduction of those women and if we continue to involve him, it is likely to put his life and possibly the lives of those around him in danger too–both here and home.
“He’s already been featured for a second time on the television news this evening, thanks to that bitch Sandy Townsend and people are starting to make up their own minds. To many, he’s already guilty.”
Ron could see his words were getting through, so he pressed on.
“Psychic or not, the moment the Crown Prosecution Service hear that he was in hospital at the time of the murder and for some time prior to that, we’ll be laughed out of court. I’m just thinking ahead, sir. You understand.”
“Perhaps you’re right . . .” Rawles said, then thought for a moment. “I’m putting you in charge of keeping an eye on him then, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir,” Ron acknowledged and went back to the ward. On the way, he passed the Sister.
“I think you can breathe a sigh of relief now, Sister. You’re getting your ward back.”
“Not before time,” she said and laughed.
“I don’t know how you do it and I don’t want to know,” Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I don’t know either,” Darryl chuckled. “At first I thought it was just coincidence, but now I can tell when I’m just thinking and when the thoughts are more, shall we say, informative.”
“How do you cope?”
“I very nearly couldn’t, seeing Suzie the way she was,” he said shuffling into a more upright position. “It was like some gory horror film–really gruesome. I did see where it was though.”
“Where?” Ron asked, taking out his notebook.
“Church Road. There are two bus stops outside and I think it’s above a shop.”
“I know you’re not going to like this, but can you tell me what happened?”
Darryl spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes going over everything that happened and Ron scribbled furiously in his notebook. When it got to the bit where she bit his . . . thingy, Ron couldn’t believe his ears.
“She did what?!”
“Bit him.” Darryl repeated, nodding to emphasise the deed. “He was shrieking like a scalded cat.”
“Good for her!” beamed Ron. “But that’s interesting. He’s going to have to get treatment somewhere and we’ll be waiting.”
“Well, I wish you luck.”
“Thanks. I think I had better be off. Let you get some rest, but don’t worry, I’ll leave someone here to keep an eye on you.”
“Rest? I don’t know if I’m going to be able to after that.” Darryl answered wryly.
“Well try. It’s the only way you’ll get out of here.” Ron said, getting up and slipping his notebook back into his inside pocket.
“Now you come to mention it,” Darryl said, yawning theatrically. “I do feel a bit sleepy.”
© Nick B 2008
Bestist thanks to Gabi for her editing skills at short notice.
No horrific bits in this one either, TK
“His hormone levels would be right were he a female of that age, but not for a male.”
“What does that mean, doctor?”
Chapter 12
As Sandy Townsend had left the police briefing a couple of weeks previously, an idea started to brew. Despite what the police had said, that Darren kid, or whatever his name was, had definitely hit the bull’s eye with Suzie Croft’s name. Somehow, he had managed to convince Annabel that he was psychic and this was the point where her idea came into play.
At first she, too, was taken in. The kid looked genuinely upset, genuinely concerned, but he refused to answer more questions, to give her more details, which meant he was holding back. She was, after all, on the side of those women, so if he knew something and she was trying to help, didn’t that mean that he was covering something up by not telling her all the facts?
He had been absolutely spot-on with the name, not just a vague “it’s something like” and from all the dealings with psychics she had had–which granted weren’t that many–they were always a little left of centre. This led Sandy to two possibilities: Either this Darren was for real–and how, or he was involved. One thing was for certain: he definitely knew more than he was letting on and that made her angry.
She sat at her desk at her home, scribbling down the pros and cons or in this case, “real” or “involved” and each time she added something to the “real” list, it was countered by an equally if not more compelling reason for him to be involved.
After about an hour of deliberation and having run through the two lists again–applying logic to each entry–she had two much shorter lists, although one was longer than the other.
It seemed that her initial suspicions had not been far off the mark and she began on fresh paper–another session of frantic scribbling–referring often to the two lists she had just compiled and edited.
Afterwards, she paused for a glass of wine and reread the notes, which had become more of an “article” already. Downing the last mouthful of her chilled white wine, she picked two sheets of paper and one of carbon paper from the drawer of her desk, wound them into the typewriter and started to tap away.
The words flowed quickly and the extended notes from her handwritten text, expanded like the flow of water across and down the page. Before long, she was inserting another sheet as the excitement inside her rose.
Soon, she hit the full-stop, pulled out the second page and began rereading her now finished article, her heart beating quickly as she felt the break she needed coming–all thanks to this.
Who knows, girl. You might even get a prize for this one.
The idea spread through her thoughts like wildfire as she took a sip from her second glass of wine, building to something akin to the Oscars ceremony as she took the stage to accept her prize for the best article of 1978.
The next morning at the office, Sandy could hardly contain herself, knowing that Joe Bates, the newspaper’s editor had her article. She sat at her desk, unable to work as she waited for his opinion and in due course, she saw him through the office window and heard him calling, “Sandy?” and beckoning.
Butterflies the size of pterodactyls flapped in her stomach as she entered his office.
“Take a seat,” he said, looking at her over his wire-rimmed half-moon spectacles. She sat down, the excitement in her building almost to the point where she thought she was going to explode.
“I’ve read your article,” he informed her, laying it on the desk before him then steepling his fingers.
“And?” she asked expectantly.
“It’s very good–if you like character assassinations.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her excitement dissipating and quickly being replaced by a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“What have you got against this kid? I mean, that’s all he is, isn’t he–a kid?” asked Joe.
“He’s a charlatan; a con artist and he’s stringing people along with this idea that he’s psychic,” she argued, defensively.
“Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t, but this newspaper isn’t one of those Sunday tabloids, notorious for burying those who don’t always deserve it.”
“I’m not trying to bury him,” she countered, trying hard to retain her decorum, while Joe just sat there, fingers still steepled, looking at her intently.
It was so infuriating.
There was a very real problem out there. Women had been abducted and one of those had even wound up being discovered dead–murdered. She had the inside track on someone who she felt should be being investigated more thoroughly and what were the police doing?
Sweet F.A. that’s what and now Joe was taking the same route.
“That’s not how it looks, Sandy.”
“It’s a straightforward question, Joe and I think I presented the facts in an even manner.” Her look at Joe was pugnacious and her demeanour started that slide into something bordering on belligerence. She was well pleased with her piece and if it meant that people saw the little shyster for what he was, then so much the better.
There was a pause.
“I don’t think it is,” he said finally.
“That much is obvious,” she spat, with something of a sneer.
“I can’t print it.”
“You can’t?!” she spluttered. “What do you mean? You can’t or you won’t?”
“Either is fine,” Joe stated evenly, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re a small newspaper and this is sailing far too close to the wind for my liking. You’re not asking a question. You’re guiding the reader to a point of view and it’s one I don’t happen to share.”
“But don’t you think it’s a bit much that he knows all this stuff and isn’t involved?”
“You can’t prove that. In fact, everything you have said here could be looked upon as hearsay. Turn it round and make it a little less confrontational and I’ll think about printing it, but not as it is.”
She snatched the papers off his desk looking daggers at the man behind it.
“Change this?” she said, waving the typed sheets in Joe’s face, a look of incredulity on hers. “Change this–the best thing I’ve written in ages?”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t be improved,” he said coolly, pushing her hand and the waved papers aside.
“Call yourself an editor? Your problem is you can’t see a good story when it comes up and bites you on the arse!”
“You’re out of line, Sandy,” he warned.
“Out of line? I’m just trying to inform the public that there’s someone out there that could be dangerous and the police and now you are doing nothing about it.”
“That’s enough, Sandy!” he said with uncharacteristic force. “That’s not going in this paper and that’s final. I’ve given you my opinion and if you don’t like it, you know what you can do.”
“Oh, I know alright,” she answered in nothing more than a whisper. “There are plenty of newspapers that would give their eye-teeth for an inside view of this case and you’re turning it away? Are you mad?”
“No Sandra,” he said sitting down and leaning back in his chair, watching as she fumed. “I’m not turning away a piece of insightful news reporting, but a piece of trash that is solely designed to destroy a poor kid whose only crime I can see, is to have been near you at the wrong time.”
Ten minutes later, Sandy still had her article, but no job.
An hour after that, she was talking to the editor of a popular Sunday newspaper and smiling broadly.
“Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Bates,” she said after she put the phone down
His breast development was causing some concern–with everyone else, that was. A blood test had shown that his hormone levels were all back to front.
“His hormone levels would be right were he a female of that age, but not for a male.”
“What does that mean, doctor?”
“Well, it’s probably just gynaecomastia; nothing at all to worry about,” the doctor told her.
“Gyne-come-what? What’s that?”
“It’s gynaecomastia–the growth of breasts in adolescent males. Not as rare as you may think. It normally rights itself in time. I’m sure he’s perfectly alright, but he may get a bit stressed about it. The results of the accident he had may even have had something to do with it, especially that bump he took to the noggin. Whatever it is, it’s most likely temporary, so no need to worry.”
“What if it’s not?”
“Then we can help him along with hormones, but we’d rather not try that until we’ve had a chance to chart its progress.”
“So you’re going to do nothing? That’s ridiculous,” Gemma responded hotly, wringing her hands.
“Mrs. Groves, please, calm down. We can’t just go steaming in there filling him full of drugs and hormones. It might cause more damage than it fixes. Just be patient, I assure you we’ are doing the best we can for your son.”
Gemma glanced at Darryl. He didn’t seem at all stressed, contrary to what the doctor had suggested. Curiously, he seemed bored–not in the least bit stressed. She on the other hand was sweating and trembling.
“How are you doing,” she asked, having regained some of her composure.
“I’ll feel a lot better when I can get out of here,” he said smiling ruefully. “I don’t think I have ever felt so bored.”
Gemma just looked at him and squeezed his hand reassuringly.
He had always been a pretty baby with long golden ringlets that when pulled out straight, were almost long enough for him to sit on. Now his hair had settled into a mousey brown sort of colour that lightened to blonde in the summer. It was wavy and long–not as long as it had been, but she had been forced to have it cut and now it had grown again, was just past his shoulders.
He wasn’t the baby he was, but he was still pretty.
She admonished herself for even thinking that. He was a boy and boys aren’t pretty, but as she looked at him, she realised that actually, he was pretty and not just good-looking in that boyish way either, but really pretty in a peculiarly girly way. He seemed more so now as the hospital gown rested on and accentuated the growing mounds on his chest.
Don’t be absurd, she thought. He’s your son . . .
These consisted of Woman’s Realm and Woman’s Own, with one or two copies of Elle thrown in for good measure. They were entertaining and the fashion and makeup tips were quite a revelation–matching colours with skin tones or eye colour and so forth. He never knew there was so much to it. It never took his mum that long to slap on her ‘war-paint’ as she put it, but it appeared that there was quite an art to it.
By Saturday, Anne was being discharged and ready to leave.
“Here, you have these,” she said, handing over a fairish pile of magazines.
“Are you sure?” Darryl asked, taking the magazines from his friend and hefting them a couple of times. There were definitely quite a lot of them.
She shrugged. “I can get more. Who knows how long you’ll be here.”
“Oh don’t say that. I may never get out,” he replied laughing.
“You’ll be fine,” she said, bending down and kissing him firmly on the cheek. “Look after yourself.”
With that, Anne was gone and Darryl was once again left to himself.
“See, Anne didn’t have a problem accepting you as you are,” said Mariella.
“No, I guess she didn’t. Others seem to be having a hard time of it though,” he answered, the depression showing in his tone.
“Yes,” she said, once again placing her hands on his shoulders and squeezing reassuringly. “But then some people have problems accepting things, even if you’re normal.”
“Aren’t I normal then?” he asked, a little surprised.
“Not really. You’re special. Not everyone gets the ability you have.”
“No and not everyone has to change sex to get it either.”
“Touché!” his grandmother said, grinning.
“I’ll be alright, but at the moment, I’m still not sure whether I want this girl thing. I mean sometimes I don’t even think about it and I’m just me, but then I find out that people are squabbling over me and what I should or shouldn’t be and it makes me question it too.”
“What sort of squabbling?” Mariella asked, concerned.
“Oh, it’s just Mum. The doctor told her I had gynae-something-or-other–it’s to do with these anyway,” he said cupping a hand under each of his small, but perfectly-formed breasts. “She can’t see why I can’t be given something to make me her son again, but the doctors don’t want to–um, let me get this right–go steaming in there filling me up with drugs and hormones.”
“At least someone round here has some sense then.”
The two sat in companionable silence for a while before Darryl asked a question.
“Where’s granddad?”
“Oh, he’s around,” said his grandmother, smiling. “He sends his love too. It’s just too difficult for me to bring him with me. Perhaps if I were younger . . .” she added wistfully.
“I still don’t know whether I can do this, Gran. I’ve been thinking about it and while some things appeal, it’s a heck of a change for me and Mum–not to mention the others. I know Anne accepted me, but can I?”
“I can’t force you one way or the other. It’s a decision you have to make for yourself.”
“That’s a bit of a change in what you’ve been saying, Gran,” he said suspiciously.
“I know, but I was blinded by what I wanted; what I would like to see, not what was right for you and looking at the trouble it is already causing, I realised that you were the only one that can make the decision.”
Suddenly, Gran was gone and he was rudely woken with several staff and the rear view of someone he thought he recognised as he was being rushed down bright corridors.
“What’s happening?” he asked, bleary-eyed from just having woken up.
“It’s alright Darryl,” said the familiar voice of Sergeant Cummings. “We’re just getting you safe . . .”
© Nick B 2008
An excellent bit of fettling by Gabi here folks, so give her a nice big, warm, round of applause
“Do you want to be a girl?”
“You know, before I had the accident, there were times when I wished I was . . .
As he was stood in a queue waiting to pay for The Observer, he noticed the headline on the front page of The News of the World and nearly fell through the floor seeing a picture of Darryl featured there.
“It’s a sad state of affairs when they can let someone like him stay in a normal hospital isn’t it, Jack?” the man in front of Ron said to the man behind the counter as he slapped his paper down and prodded Darryl’s picture aggressively.
“Too right,” Jack replied, tutting loudly. “’e should be locked up–after ’e’s told us where them other girl’s are. It’s people like ’im what make me feel that they shoulda kept the death penalty.” Jack added, counting out the change.
Ron mentally bit his lip and hoped he could remain invisible to these two. He had recently been in the papers–maybe even on the evening news, so it wouldn’t be at all surprising if they recognised him.
He couldn’t say anything as he knew it would cause all sorts of arguments. Instead, he kept his patience and his profile low, paid for his paper–plus a copy of the offending “rag” and headed back home.
He could feel his blood pressure rising as he finally made his way up the short hill towards his house, trying hard not to explode as he stumbled along, reading the article.
The phone was ringing when he opened the front door.
“Hello?” he answered, curtly.
It was the station. There was disruption at the hospital with people turning up shouting about Darryl and phoning too. They had sent several uniformed officers down there to try and restore some order outside, but the main worry was for Darryl, not to mention the other patients as well as the staff inside.
He arranged to go down as soon as he had showered and changed. Shaking his head solemnly, he walked away from the phone. “Another Sunday up the spout,” he said aloud.
Ron was at the hospital in under forty minutes and although he had been given a verbal appraisal of the situation, he had no idea it would be so bad. There was what amounted to a protest going on right outside the front entrance, and the uniformed Bobbies tried desperately to keep the unwanted out and let the needy through. Ron flashed his warrant card and immediately went inside.
He was met by a flustered-looking man–a Mr. Jacobs, who seemed to be on the verge of panic. They talked about Darryl as they rushed up to his ward and it transpired that although letting Darryl go would be best for the hospital, it wasn’t what was best for him.
“Some of the calls have been really bad,” Jacobs said. “People have even threatened physical violence. Are you sure he hasn’t done anything? That article seems pretty convincing.”
“I know, I read it on the way back from the newsagents, but believe me, I can vouch for the kid–he’s clean as a whistle. Can’t we move him out of the way somewhere, just temporarily?” Ron asked. The flustered hospital official looked at the ward Sister.
“I’ll see,” she replied.
He sat, or rather reclined, on the bed as two nurses and Sergeant Cummings hurtled down the corridors. As they went up to the next floor, he was relieved to hear that “The girl from Ipanima” wasn’t being piped through speakers in the lift.
“What’s happening?” he asked, but either those there were studiously ignoring him or they simply didn’t know. As far as he could tell, each of them there was just under orders to move him to room such-and-such on level so-and-so and that was that.
They manoeuvred him into position and the nurses made an exit, leaving Ron and Darryl alone together.
“It’s got a bit complicated, Darryl,” the officer said. “You haven’t seen today’s papers obviously,” Ron said.
“No, you know I haven’t.”
“Perhaps you ought to see this then.” The policeman said as he handed Darryl his copy of the News of the World.
The headlines read: ‘Are our hospitals safe?’
Darryl’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as directly beneath the screaming headline was a picture of him. It was grainy and not at all flattering, showing him sitting in bed in the ward he had just come from.
“How did they get this?” he asked, poking his finger roughly at the picture as tears started to well up in his eyes. “I’ve just been trying to help–that’s all.”
“We don’t know. It was obviously taken here, but that’s all we can tell.”
He read no more than the first paragraph and realised that the article was asking the question of whether he was involved in the abduction of those women and subsequent murder of Suzie Croft–even going so far as to insinuate that he might be behind it.
“Absurd!” he spluttered. “This is, like, a joke, right? Surely they can’t print something like this, just because they say it’s an opinion?”
“I’m afraid it’s no joke, Darryl, and yes, they can. They’re allowed to print it because of that.”
“That’s unreal,” Darryl said, shaking his head.
“I know. What’s worse is that the hospital has been receiving calls about this since early this morning. Some callers have even threatened to come and remove you themselves if the hospital didn’t do it first.”
“But I haven’t done anything. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“Apparently it doesn’t apply where the newspapers are concerned,” Ron said resignedly.
“What do I do?”
“You don’t do anything, Darryl. According to the doctors, the cast on your broken leg will have to stay on at least for the next month, but more importantly, the gash in your leg will be healed enough within the next couple of days, then we can get you out of here.”
Darryl slept fitfully that night. He would have liked to have had a chat with Mariella, but for some reason, he couldn’t get hold of her.
The next day, his mother arrived.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“A little out of sorts to be honest,” he replied.
“I know. It must be hell after that newspaper shit.”
“Actually, it’s not that that’s bothering me.”
He didn’t know quite how to broach it, but he felt as if he’d gone mentally deaf.
“Well, there’s some good news at least,” said Gemma. “They’ve started you on some tablets to get you back to the way you were. They don’t think it’ll take long and think the pills they’re giving you might help kick-start your body into righting the old hormone levels again. They didn’t want to, bu–“
“They’re doing what?!” Darryl exclaimed, sitting upright and glowering at his mother whose face went white. She blinked a couple of times, obviously not knowing what to say or do as Darryl sat there, fuming.
“I had them start you on something to help you get rid of those breasts and get you back to normal.”
“You did what?!!” he almost shouted, shaking his head incredulously. “You bloody idiot. Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Well–I’m sure I don’t know what you mean and if that’s the kind of thanks I get . . .”
“Just forget it, Mum. Alright?” he said sullenly and turned away from her. Moments later he felt a hand touch his shoulder–which he shrugged away from and heard his mother’s footsteps as she walked away from the bed out of the room.
He slept in silence. In fact the whole day had been completely silent–as far as his abilities were concerned and it preyed upon his mind.
The nightmarish dreams were graphic and disturbing. The images of Suzie that he had already seen were bad enough, but they were followed by the other four women meeting horrible deaths, over and over again, while he looked on, powerless to do anything to help.
These were all mixed up with images of himself some four years previously, wanting those platform shoes, only this time he got them and instead of being ridiculed for what he was wearing, the other girls like Lisa and Jane, were interested–envious even.
And it didn’t stop there either.
The images tumbled seemingly end over end through the night as he tossed and turned restlessly trying to fathom what he was supposed to do and wondering why he couldn’t get his Gran to help now of all times and that was when it hit him.
“How’s my favourite patient?” she asked brightly.
“Go away,” Darryl muttered, turning away from her.
“What’s wrong?” she enquired, sitting beside him on the bed. “It’s not like you to be like this.”
“It’s not everyday you get your abilities taken away is it?” he pouted.
“What’s happened?”
“My Gran told me that The Sight–as she calls it, it given to the first girl and that would be me.”
“But you’re not a girl,” she replied.
“I know and that’s what I said too. Then in between the first time I came here and this time, these started to appear,” he said, doing his best to heft his two swollen lumps.
“So?”
“Well it got me thinking. Suppose I should have been a girl, but, instead, had developed into a boy? Suppose my body was trying to right itself and that’s why I got the ability.”
“That’s a fair thought. It’s unlikely, but fair.”
“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter now does it?” he said, his lower lip trembling and for the first time since this all began, he wished he’d said something to someone other than his Gran about all this. Perhaps if he’d spoken to his mum and made her understand . . .
Now it was too late.
It was too late to decide whether to take up the challenge. Too late to accept his new role as a girl–a psychic girl at that and however alien the concept may be it was too late to help those women and that was the bit that really hurt.
In truth, he was sensible enough to know that being a girl would be a difficult change to make, but he realised that this wasn’t being offered, it was a calling–a gift and whilst at first the idea of how to react to having the weight of such responsibility on his shoulders was hard, not having it and not being able to help was harder–much harder.
Now it had been taken away, he felt such a wrench, such a gut-churning emptiness that he wondered how he was going to go on without it.
“What do you mean, Darryl?”
“They’ve put me on some kind of medication and now The Sight is gone.”
Annabel sat there, not knowing quite what to do. Every time she thought of something to say, she seemed to think better of it and it all went quiet again.
“I can’t do anything for those poor women and I know time is running out. What can I do?” he said, tears flowing like waterfalls from his eyes, his lips quivering and his body shaking. “Oh, Annabel, I’ve ruined everything–everything.”
He flung himself at the young doctor, wrapping his arms around her and burying his head in her shoulder and crying his eyes out.
She sat there as he cried what must have been a river of tears and didn’t know what to do. Finally as the sobbing started to subside, she peeled him off of her and dabbed at his eyes.
“It’ll be alright, Darryl. Try not to worry about it,” she said, softly. “The most important thing at the moment, is for you is to get well.”
“How do you know. You don’t have the lives of four women hanging over you, or the death of one on your conscience,” he replied, regretting his outburst almost immediately.
“Oh don’t I?” she retorted, turning and facing the young man, a fire burning dangerously in her eyes. “Don’t I?”
Darryl didn’t answer. He just tried unsuccessfully to avert his eyes from her stare.
“Let me tell you, Darryl Groves. I have people relying on me in life and death situations all the time. If I’m off form or not well and I make a wrong diagnosis, what do you think that means?”
“I’m sorry, Annabel,” he said in a very small voice.
“What?” she asked, her eyes still flaring.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just felt that I could help and now I can’t.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, her face softening slightly, though anger was still very much apparent. “You don’t know that at all. You can’t give up just because you’ve hit a hurdle. You have to pick yourself up and try again, but try harder.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know for sure . . .” She was right, of course. He wasn’t the only one whose life was filled with the unknowing of whether what he did was going to make everything alright. Annabel had to live with it everyday, as did all the others in her field.
“But how do I get it back? I mean, Gran didn’t think that I’d keep it if I were a boy.”
“But you are a boy.”
“Only sort of. I mean what boys have these?” he asked pointing once again at the still-forming breasts.
“Breasts don’t make you a girl, Darryl,” she pointed out.
“No, but the other thing I have doesn’t work and hasn’t since the accident, so I figured that was my body righting itself again,” he said, shrugging.
Annabel thought for a moment. “Do you want to be a girl?”
“You know, before I had the accident, there were times when I wished I was; that I had the chance to wear some of the neat clothes they get to wear and stuff, but now all of a sudden I have to be one and I’m not sure.”
“That’s not the attitude to have though is it?” she sat beside him again. “If you really want to be a girl, there’s a lot that needs to change and it’s not just dressing up either.”
“I know–operations and that.”
“That’s part of it, yes. Does that bother you?”
“Not half as much as I thought and since I had my picture plastered all over the paper, I’m not sure Darryl the boy would be particularly well-received.”
“That’s probably true, but don’t you think that that’s the wrong reason to want to change?”
“No, but if it meant I could get to keep my abilities and help those women too, I think it’s a small price to pay.”
The door burst open and two people barged in, trying their damndest to wriggle and squirm out of the clutches of two of the biggest coppers Darryl had ever seen.
“I told you, we’re his grandparents!” the short, dark-haired woman snarled.
“I don’t care if you’re the bloomin’ queen of Sheba,” one of the grappling policemen gasped.
“But they are,” exclaimed Darryl, wide-eyed.
© Nick B 2008
My God that Gabi works damned quick :)
Don't know what I'd do without her though...
"you can’t know what it’s like to have a child like that…"
Ian however, obviously did. He was shivering and looking decidedly grey, but the worst part was his penis. It was covered in what looked like open sores; red, raised angry-looking ulcer-type things that were festering, suppurating and obviously very painful.
Even after ten days, the bite marks had not reduced in size, let alone healed or even scabbed over. They had in fact got quite noticeably bigger–angrier and Ian had not been able to stand it being covered.
At Adrian’s insistence, Ian had put ointment on it, but it seemed to have no effect at all. In fact, now, after nearly two weeks, Ian was in such bad shape that Adrian was toying with the idea of carting him off to hospital, whether he wanted to go or not–and as of five minutes ago, he didn’t.
Despite only having rudimentary knowledge of medical matters, Adrian saw his friend’s injuries as being the cause of his current predicament.
“We’ve got to get you to a doctor,” he said. “Better still, the hospital. I’m afraid that you’re going to get worse if we don’t.”
“Don’t even dare to think about it,” Ian had said angrily, his voice dry and rasping. “Anyway, how would we bloody explain it?”
‘Never mind explaining it, if you don’t get it looked at soon you may not live to regret it,’ Adrian thought.
He went to check the women: they were in almost as poor a state as his friend and whilst it was more than his life was worth to let them go, he did give them some soup, before scurrying back to Ian’s side in case the big man noticed he was gone.
He felt sorry for them, almost as sorry for them as he was for his friend.
Sure, he knew they weren’t going to get out of this alive, but they weren’t supposed to suffer like they were at the moment. He had never envisaged them being left down in the cellars under the shops in Waterloo Street like they were now, with no food or water–that had never been the plan, but that bitch had to go and complicate things by biting Ian’s willy.
Still that didn’t mean he had to be inhospitable.
Anyway, having given them each some soup–not much, but they did seem awfully grateful, he could turn his attention back to Ian.
I’ve got to do something…
He cobbled together a plan. It was risky, but in his opinion, risk was the least of his problems and if it worked, Ian might live and they might be able to get out of this awful predicament relatively unscathed.
The alternative was…well, he didn’t want to even consider that.
Apparently some kid had seen them when that dark-haired bird had had to die and that meant that with a witness hanging around, it was probably better that they didn’t.
Keeping a low profile was one thing, but trying to keep such a profile with Ian as he was, was not the best of ideas, so he decided to go ahead with his plan–take his chances and see what happened. What was the worse that could happen?
No-one knew where they were, despite this so-called witness and if–and only if–the plan went well, he could take care of Ian and the witness in one fell swoop.
In Ron’s opinion however, it was better to be safe than sorry.
The two officers stood when a man in a white lab coat approached, pushing before him a small trolley, loaded with medical paraphernalia.
“Can we help, sir,” said one.
“Ah yes,” he replied. “I have medicine for the chap in that room.”
“And you would be?” asked the copper suspiciously.
“Ed Spencer. I’ve got the job of medications tonight” said the man, holding his name tag out for them to see.
“You’d best go in then.”
Spencer nodded, smiling amiably as one of the two policemen opened the door to Darryl’s private room then stood aside to allow him to enter, closing the door quietly behind him once inside.
Darryl was awake and looking sullen.
“Good evening,” the doctor said urbanely.
“Who are you?” asked Darryl, without looking up, his tone surly and not in the least bit welcoming. The doctor didn’t flinch or even bat an eyelid.
“I’m Ed Spencer,” the man replied. “I’m here to give you a shot.”
“But I’ve already been given all the drugs I’m supposed to be taking. I’m surprised you haven’t heard.”
“Heard? Heard what?” the man asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Darryl, getting yet more antisocial.
“Look, I’m just doing what I’m told. It’s just one shot then I can be off and leave you to your own devices. I can see this isn’t a good time, but this is a hospital and I am the nurse who's supposed to administer. You are the patient and…” he removed a small vial from the trolley and held it up between his thumb and index finger for Darryl to see. “This is a vial containing a drug, some of which I am about to give you–or I’m in big trouble.”
Darryl didn’t look at all impressed, but acceded.
The man picked up a syringe and a needle; popped the cap from the plastic casing and fixed the needle to the syringe.
He pushed the needle into the small vial and drew off a quantity of the clear liquid, flicking the syringe with his forefinger afterwards and squirting a minute amount to remove any air that had remained inside.
He placed the syringe back on the trolley, picked up some surgical alcohol, some cotton wool and swabbed the area just in the crook of Darryl’s right elbow. He was about to flick the area to raise a vein when the door opened.
“We’re going to have to ask you to wait here until we get back,” the policeman said.
The nurse froze; Darryl’s wrist in one hand and his other reaching for the hypo. “What’s the problem?”
“Something’s happened on one of the lower floors. We just don’t want to leave our man here unattended.”
“I won’t let him out of my sight,” the nurse assured.
The policeman smiled and closed the door again.
Doctor Spencer flicked the skin to raise the vein then pushed the needle in, gently squeezing the plunger of the hypo until it would advance no further.
“At least, not until he’s in the back of the van…” he said quietly, grinning.
Darryl looked very confused, looking at the doctor as he flopped backwards on the bed.
Something had happened, but for the life of him, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The “it” part seemed to be so tantalisingly close, yet just out of reach.
So much seemed to be going through his mind that he found himself flitting, butterfly-like, from one subject to the next, never quite alighting on any one of them.
The subject of his mother and grandmother came up a number of times and sometimes it made him laugh while sometimes it made him feel sad. He knew that there had been an altercation and he had been absolutely furious at one of them, but he couldn’t seem to remember which or why.
There was something else. Something about his grandfather, though it wasn’t Padraig.
Do I have more than one grandfather? he wondered, giggling slightly as he rolled sideways and landed up with his face against something cold and decidedly gritty.
He pushed himself back into a sitting position as further bounces, jiggles and squeaks filled the dark space and whilst he knew he ought to be scared, worried or even concerned about where he was, he couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on any of those at all.
His attention moved to the doctor. He seemed so familiar, but somehow, the “where do I know him from?” seemed to elude him.
Suddenly the motion stopped and again, he rolled sideways in another fit of giggles as his face hit the cold gritty surface. A door opened and the doctor was standing there, but this time he didn’t have his white coat on.
“Don’t I know you?” Darryl asked, trying to focus on the man, who appeared to be at a very odd angle.
“You should,” the man replied. “Now it’s time to get you out of here.”
“But I’ve only just got here.”
“Yes,” said the man calmly. “And now it’s time to go somewhere else.”
“Good,” Darryl replied, struggling to right himself. “This place is awfully dirty and squeaks a lot.”
The man blinked a coupled of times, his brow furrowing and then, shaking his head, he grabbed Darryl’s arm and pulled him towards the door.
“We should have brought that wheelchair with us,” he grumbled. “You’ll have to hop or something.”
Darryl giggled again at the thought.
“Just stop that. You sound like a girl,” the man said irritably.
Darryl couldn’t help it and giggled again.
They struggled through a place that sounded like a long tunnel, but it couldn’t have been as there were cars parked down either side, but then, in what appeared to be the darkest recesses at the back and behind a large pile of tea chests and packing cases was a warren of corridors and doorways.
Something seemed familiar again, though it passed and soon Darryl was wrinkling his nose as they moved into a yet darker area where there might have been other people, but he wasn’t at all sure. It didn’t smell nice though.
The man let him go and stood, huffing and puffing as Darryl swayed for a few seconds, then dropped on his backside, chuckling away to himself.
“Perhaps I overdid the Vallium,” the man observed.
“Warsfatpp?”Darryl said quietly, before beginning to snore gently.
“What were you thinking?” he asked.
The two officers didn’t know what to say, choosing instead to look at their feet as they scraped a speck of dust back and forth.
“In our defence, Sarge, we weren’t to know, were we?” one said. “And you weren’t here.”
Ron shook his head. “I can’t be here twenty-four hours a bloody day, can I?”
“But, Sarge. The man looked like a real nurse, I mean, how were we to know?”
“But you shouldn’t both have gone, should you?”
“No, Sarge,” they intoned in unison.
“You might as well go back to the station. There’s nothing for you here to protect now is there?”
Shame-faced, the two coppers left the scene.
Ron now had the awe-inspiring job of informing Darryl’s mother, and Gawd help him when that feisty grandmother of his finds out what has happened.
The place he was in seemed so familiar too–ringing warning bells and all sorts, yet for the life of him, he couldn’t recall why.
The next morning however, some of it at least started to fall into place, while his head felt like it was decidedly “out of place”; thumping and generally feeling like it had grown two sizes during the night and didn’t fit properly in his skull anymore. His mouth tasted foul and had been taped over and the smell was starting to sting his eyes.
On top of all that, his hands had been bound behind him, he had memories that he wasn’t sure were real or even his and despite the lack of light in the area, he was sure he wasn’t alone.
If only I could think straight…
Muffled whimpers emanated from the darkness and as time dragged by, he started to figure things out.
He was sure that he was with the remaining girls and if his hearing wasn’t playing tricks, there were three.
But there should be four.
He could hear from different areas of the space he was in, the sounds of sobbing, sniffing and other noises. Although he wasn’t completely sure, he could only detect three. Had the fourth died?
Maybe that was the one I saw being taken away… he thought.
He felt sick to his stomach.
So much for the bloody “Sight”, he complained, thinking that he had had no warning of the fourth’s demise. He didn’t even know which one of them it was.
He dimly remembered the night he went back to hospital. He had seen a girl being dragged into the back of a van in an alley that he thought may have been off Waterloo Street, but that was about all he could bring to mind–apart that was that when he saw her, she wasn’t dead.
The trouble was, he was thirsty and whatever he had been given last night was causing his head to ache. It didn’t seem to be getting any better, not helping his ability to think straight at all.
The biggest thing that kept rapping on his memory cell was something he had heard or perhaps he had just dreamed: he should have been a girl all along.
He kept having what he could only term as flashbacks from the day before. His mother and his grandmother were in a heated debate over him, but he was sure his grandmother kept referring to him as “her”.
He had to keep blotting it out of his mind as he was sure it was making his head hurt more.
He now had a fever and despite Adrian having shot a shit-load of drugs into him, nothing seemed to be making any difference.
Hijacking that doctor who was about to make his rounds in the hospital seemed to be bringing his plan to fruition and the fact that that call to the two cops while he was in the kid’s room, just made it look so much like it couldn’t fail.
So why wasn’t anything working?
“I got that kid–the witness,” he told his friend.
“Uhhh?” Ian replied, weakly.
“I said, I got that kid. He’s with the women under the shops. It all went so easily. I was in and out of the hospital in no time.”
Ian didn’t answer. His eyes looked glassy; unfocussed and Adrian was worried sick.
Perhaps I should give it a couple of days… he thought.
His relationship with the big man was strange to say the least.
He didn’t like the idea of the women at all; he’d much preferred it if Ian and he could have enjoyed themselves together, but Ian didn’t seem to see things that way–the way that he did.
In fact Ian didn’t like the idea of queers at all. Not that Adrian was queer or “gay” as it was now being termed. No, Adrian wasn’t queer, but sometimes he wondered what it would be like to have Ian hold him close and on the odd occasion when the sores weren’t obvious, he did wonder what it would be like to take Ian’s large tool in his mouth or…
He could feel his own tool stiffen at the thought.
No!
I’m not like that…
He would have thought he would have got used to the smell or the discomfort, but no.
His backside was sore from not being able to move much. He would liked to have laid flat, but his arms were in the way and he had terrible trouble moving as his legs were weak or immobilised.
Usually, his dressing would have been changed by now and he worried after that too.
Not as much as that argument between his Gran and his mother.
He still couldn’t believe that two people who had not seen each other in over sixteen years could have got so nasty towards each other; could have stood toe-to-toe and yelled–well argued so heatedly anyway–in front of Ron and Annabel and it was this that made it all seem so surreal.
He wasn’t a girl and he knew this, but without a working…well, you know…he wasn’t much of a man either.
He had never really fitted in as a boy. Mostly, it was just a case of him being him and nothing more, but there was more to being a boy than that, just like there was more to being a girl than the clothes, the hair and the makeup.
That all sounded rather a lot compared to scabby jeans, grubby t-shirt and Dunlop Green Flash or Converse All-Stars, but the idea of being attractive or even as his Gran had said, “pretty” appealed. He didn’t know why, but it did.
As a boy, he didn’t have much of a chance to be much. He was small for his age, not very masculine in his looks and was easy prey for bullies, but as a girl, he could be so much more. His sense of identity was blurred.
He really didn’t know whether he was one thing or the other and until the accident, had no idea about what he wanted. Now, his grandmother and her family had apparently given him something that made him think–made him wonder–about what was what.
Being a boy was hard and thus far was something he had not got used to. Being a girl would be hard too, but it would be hard with direction, which was a hell of a lot more than he had now.
Somehow, the discomfort he was suffering didn’t seem nearly so bad as he drifted off to sleep.
The next day he awoke cold and stiff.
His backside was sore and best part numb, partly due to the fact that he had had to urinate in situ and he shifted to try and redistribute his weight. It was no good and he gave up without much of a fight.
His head still hurt, or was at least as uncomfortable as his rear end and whether it was the lack of food or water, or the fact that he had been leaning against a brick wall for all that time he wasn’t sure, but there was a horrible buzzing in his ears.
He still wasn’t thinking straight. His mind was apt to go off at tangents and his memories were a still little blurry or skewed. The memory of his mum and Gran arguing wouldn’t go away and now it was tying together with the thing about his grandfather too.
No, it wasn’t Padraig, it was his mum’s dad–Reginald, or granddad as was preferred.
According to the argument, Darryl’s Gran accused his mother of thinking more about what her father wanted than what was right for Darryl. He distinctly remembered something about his mum saying “you can’t possibly know what it’s like to have a child like that…” and the conversation suggesting that he had been born with both.
Surely that’s not possible…
Once again, the thought was relegated to that “surreal” shelf in his mind.
“Please mum, get me out of here,” a voice said from the darkness.
He looked around.
There was nothing. He had been in that one place for hours–at least a day, perhaps longer and he had heard nothing. He also had reason to suspect that like him, the others there hadn’t had their mouths taped over and had been rendered unable to speak other than in muffled mumbles or groans.
They certainly hadn’t made much noise. Judging by the way he felt and the fact that they had been kept like this for weeks, not just a day or two, he would have thought they would have said something by now.
He could feel the despair in the voice; in the atmosphere and worried that if something didn’t happen soon, these poor women would be scarred for life, if they weren’t already.
Closing his eyes, he tried for all he was worth to call for Mariella.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright, Mrs. Groves?” he asked.
She took a while to answer as she stared into the nothingness that was the loss of her Darryl. “I think so,” she said at last.
“I’m only a phone call away–and don’t worry, we’ll find him,” he said reassuringly. “I’ll see myself out.”
She didn’t seem to register his leaving and as Ron stepped out into the bright light of the outside world, he wondered whether they would find him and if they did, would he be alive?
Had it not been for the skills or abilities of the lad, they would have squat right now; probably still chasing their tails in ever decreasing circles and he felt somehow responsible for the young man’s involvement, even though in reality, he knew he wasn’t.
“You have to come with me,” he said, struggling with all his might to get the bigger man up.
Unlike before, there was no struggle and Adrian was sweating profusely when he managed to get his friend to the van. He propped him up as best he could and opened the door, heaving his friend into the back. From there, it was a white-knuckle ride to the hospital.
Opening the door to the van, he ran into the hospital calling for help.
In moments, Ian was inside, connected to a drip and heading somewhere within the bowels of the big medical facility.
Adrian remained patiently in a waiting area for the better part of the day for news of his friend.
“He’s in a pretty bad way,” the doctor had said. “It looks like septicá¦mia. How long has he been like this?”
“It’s been a couple of weeks, doctor, but he just wouldn’t let me bring him in. What do you think has caused it?”
“I don’t know for certain, but it looks very much like the wounds on his penis.”
“I knew it!” he exclaimed. “I told him we needed to come in.”
“Do you know how he came by the wounds in the first place?” asked the doctor.
“No,” Adrian replied, without even turning a hair. “Can you treat it?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to keep him in for a couple of days and we’ll run some tests. I’m sorry to say that at the moment, it doesn’t look very good for him. His penis is extremely badly damaged and he’ll be lucky if he gets to keep it at all, let alone whether it will ever work again. Perhaps it would have been better news had you brought him to us sooner. In the meantime, I suggest you go home and maybe give us a ring in the morning.”
It wasn’t good news… well it was better for Ian. He now had half a chance of surviving, which was more than he had before, but it wasn’t good for their plan.
He stormed out of the hospital and jumped into the van, a look of grim determination on his face. It was that bitch’s fault. She was the one that caused all this, but it was that kid that had made them have to lie low. If he had just kept his mouth shut …
Back at their hideout in Bedford Square, it all felt so weird knowing that Ian wasn’t there. Adrian didn’t quite know whether or not he had done the right thing, but it was not a question of right and wrong, it was a question of life and death.
Right now, the question wasn’t so much whether his friend would live or die, but whether the kid should be punished for making things so difficult.
He closed the front door and walked down past the neatly mowed lawn of the square, along the sea front and right on Waterloo Street. It was about a ten minute walk, but it helped him to clear his head; helped him to reconcile the fact that Ian may not pull through.
He knew that the women with whom he was–albeit in a very detached manner, had been poorly looked after and probably were extremely weak. It was likely too, that they were spending more of their time asleep, which may well have explained why he wasn’t “hearing” them if The Sight had returned.
What was certain was the amount of effort he was expending trying to contact Mariella; it was exhausting,
He was about to try again when he heard what sounded like someone approaching.
A small beam of light preceded the approaching man. Darryl struggled, trying to reach out with his mind to see whether or not he could detect whether this was going to be good or bad, but he felt or “saw” nothing.
Then he was there, the smaller of the two men. In these surroundings and without the impeding drugs to cloud his mind, he knew that this was the man who cut Suzie Croft’s throat.
“You’re going to pay,” he said, shining the light right into Darryl’s eyes.
Darryl could say nothing, even though he tried. The duct tape that covered his mouth was far too well stuck for it to be easily removed.
“I’m going to do to you what you caused for him.”
What did I do?
Darryl couldn’t see what was behind the light and had no idea what was about to happen, but he could see the man approaching. He didn’t need any “third eye” or paranormal ability to know from the man’s voice that what was going to happen was not going to be good.
“You know Ian’s in hospital don’t you?” said Adrian. “You’re the reason for that too. You’re the one who saw us when I slit the throat of that bitch that nearly bit Ian’s cock off. If you’d only kept your mouth shut, none of this would be happening now.”
Adrian knelt down beside Darryl, who was now struggling against his bonds. His natural instinct was to try and get away, but with one leg weak, the other plastered and not much help, and his hands taped firmly behind his back, there wasn’t much he could do.
“Oh shit! He’s got a knife,” a voice called through the pandemonium in Darryl’s head.
“It’s no use you struggling. I learnt my lesson on that score with that dark-haired bitch!” Adrian chortled and grabbed Darryl by the top of his left arm, dragging him back close to him.
“Let’s see now,” he said lifting the front of the hospital gown. “Oh look, that’s so sweet. It’s a shame you’re going to lose it.”
It was all over in a second.
The knife was plunged downwards once, then again and again. Pain flashed through Darryl’s body like a red hot poker and tears poured from his eyes as he tried helplessly to escape the stinging blows.
He called out with his mind “help us. For God’s sake, help us!” trying as he did to picture the entrance to the place where he was being kept and after calling out for the third time, everything went black.
“You heard him too?” asked the diminutive woman.
“I did,” said Ron and I’m glad that I knew who it was, but I don’t think I could have ignored it anyway.”
“That’s my Darryl!” said the woman, beaming. “Do you know how he is?”
“Multiple stab-wounds is all I know for sure. I just don’t know how he faired. I’m surprised we didn’t find this place before though. That was one brave kid.”
All comments etc, etc...
I wanted to take these older versions down or unpub them, but it was suggested that both should be left up side-by-side. So be aware, the story is incomplete, but will be just as soon as I can finish the new version.
This will be posted chapter by chapter at regular intervals until the whole novel has been uploaded to this site, at which point it will be published for Kindle. However, nothing of the new version will be published or posted until such time as it is complete and I've stopped picking at it.
Just thought you'd like to know.
© Nick B 2008
Edited as usual in double time by Gabi
Thanks girly
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Gemma asked as she sat by the side of Darryl’s bed.
“I can give you a lift to the hospital if you’d like,” he suggested carefully, obviously unsure of her reaction and who could blame him after the last episode in the hospital with Darryl’s grandmother. “They were whisking him into surgery when I left, but…”
“Thanks, Sergeant, but I’d rather make my own way there. I need to get myself together before I see him. Things were more than a little fraught the last time,” she said with a wry smile.
“Well I hope you two manage to iron things out,” he said, returning her smile as he left.
As soon as she heard the front door closing, Gemma sat down with a thud, staring into space, wondering...
Her argument with Mariella in the hospital room came flooding back–as did Darryl’s reaction. Mariella had had the audacity to think she knew what was best for Darryl even though she hadn’t so much as laid eyes on him before. However it was strange that not only did she know him, she also knew about the issues surrounding his birth. Strangest of all, he knew her too.
That argument had been an unmitigated disaster and had embarrassed her more than she’d admitted. At the time, to say she wasn’t best pleased with Mariella for having forced the issue and caused the admission of Darryl’s dual sexuality, was a gross understatement. It had always been suggested that she not tell him, at least until she was sure he could deal with the information.
Having calmed down, she was actually pleased that it was now all out in the open. It had been the cause of a lot of stress and tension over the years; causing her to wonder at various times whether or not to tell him then wondering whether he could he deal with it if she did?
It was all a big snarling mess that she had tried to keep covered up–unsuccessfully as it transpired.
In the days following Darryl’s abduction, she had had time to think things through–about their relationship and her behaviour towards him–coming to the realisation that there had always been a nagging doubt in her mind that things weren’t right for him as he was.
There was the fact that despite his growing into an apparently well-rounded and affable young man, there were things he did that she recognised as being particularly feminine; she tried to put down to the fact that there had been no father figure.
He did things exactly like she had done as a child, and although she tried to break him of those habits, these mannerisms, these ways he had–just little things in the main, just kept on popping up and the more she tried to stop them, the more often they tended to appear.
She just hoped that when she did see him at the hospital, she would be able to explain things–smooth things over and maybe even remain friends.
They were still friends, weren’t they?
A phone call later and she was heading towards the hospital, which she thought was somewhat ironic since this was the very hospital he had been abducted from a few days earlier. Fortunately, security had been tightened–considerably.
When she arrived, Darryl was still in surgery, to attempt to reconstruct as far as possible, what was left.
Apparently it did not go well.
There was a tremendous amount of damage and absolutely no chance, even after convalescence, that the organ would respond and work sexually–even though the nerves were intact. Needless to say, the conversation between her and the doctor was tense.
Afterwards, she went to see Darryl who was still suffering the after-effects of the anaesthetic and was still unconscious. Nevertheless, she sat with him for hours, just holding his hand as he slept. There was little improvement the next day or the day after, due to the medication he had been given, but on the fourth day he was looking surprisingly well–considering.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, somewhat fatuously, after she had sat on the chair beside his bed.
“Alright, I s’pose,” he replied and it didn’t sound to her as though he was particularly keen on talking.
“You’re looking well,” she added, trying to lighten the atmosphere that had suddenly plummeted. It didn’t work, for although he was now awake and able to talk; he didn’t seem inclined to.
Later she spoke to Paul’s wife, Doris–oddly enough, the one person she felt she could talk to.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I really have buggered things up big time haven’t I?”
“I don’t know,” Doris replied, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “You might just have to tell him how it is, without any bias or embellishment–like his grandmother appears to have done–and take it from there.”
It seemed amazing to Gemma how Doris seemed to be able to make the near-impossible seem so simple and she decided that maybe she’d give it a go.
Darryl was his usual, reticent self; apparently not up for conversation when she arrived, but she tried everything she could to get him to at least be reasonable.
“Listen Darryl. I know you’re not too happy with me at the moment and I guess you have every right, but if you won’t talk to me, how can I ever put things right?” she asked.
“It’s too late for that,” he replied, sourly. “Why didn’t you tell me about–well, you know?”
“Simply because I didn’t know how you’d take it. They told me not to say anything, but now you have to know.”
“So come on then,” he said, with a ‘this should be good’ look on his face.
“Look, I’m sorry I said what I did about not understanding what it was like to have a child like you. I fucked up–I admit it. I never meant it to sound the way it did,” she said. “But there were reasons and whilst certain other people don’t think what I did or have done since was right, they weren’t there and they shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”
“By that I suppose you mean Gran,” he asked, his tone accusatory.
“Yes, I do.”
She paused, fidgeting with her skirt, smoothing it out and staring at the pattern as she fidgeted some more; all the time wondering any worrying about what Darryl was going to think, but finally and after a deep breath, she continued.
“You were born at a time when unmarried mothers were frowned upon–especially mothers of the age I was then. They still are, but not nearly to the degree that they were back when you were born. Your grandfather–my father, was furious. He ranted and raved at me about bringing the family into disrepute and what I thought I was doing, as well as asking ‘what would the customer’s think?’ I suppose as a publican, he had a vested interest in creating a good impression, but even to this day I think he was being rather harsh.”
It was proving to be more difficult to tell Darryl than she had thought and she struggled inwardly as to how she was going to phrase things. Memories of her ex-army father, bearing down on her flooded back and made the whole thing feel like it had happened yesterday. She found herself wringing her hands and fidgeting even more with the hem of her skirt.
The idea that Darryl would forgive her for what she did, seemed less and less likely as she heard herself seemingly making excuses for the mistakes she had made, when she remembered that she had been as unforgiving of her child’s mistakes in the past as her father had been with hers. The recent bike accident popped into her mind to illustrate just that.
Still, she pressed on…
“I was sent away from home to have the baby–er–you and had to stay in a church run hostel, where they treated me like I was some sort of leper. When you were finally born–late as it happened, it was like Satan himself had just touched down.”
“Why?” Darryl asked, blinking at the sound of this. “Surely the church is supposed to be all ‘come on in and be forgiven’, not ‘fire and brimstone’.”
“That’s what I thought, but apparently not. They got fractious because believe it or not, as Mariella said, you were born with both male and female sex organs. We were looked upon as being freaks, but if it’s any consolation, there are more people that this kind of thing happens to than you would believe.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s not as rare as you’d think.”
Hopefully she had made a good start and if he felt like a freak before as she suspected he did, he would feel less so now.
“I remember when you came out of me. I was so relieved that I exclaimed ‘Great Scott!’ The doctor just held you up and said ‘I don’t know about Great Scott–more like bloomin’ great shoulders!’”
Gemma and Darryl both laughed and it seemed as if the tension was actually starting to dissipate.
“Once they had seen what was wrong with you, well, that was when I was looked upon like the bride of Satan and to them, you were his spawn, causing friction between them and I. The only thing they said could be done was for you to be “fixed”. They said it wouldn’t make things right, but it was better than nothing.
“So how did they know to make me a boy?”
“I don’t know. I was not much older than you are now at the time and the doctors seemed to know so much more than I did, so I never questioned it. Plus the fact that I was bad was being drilled into me and by the time you were born, I was just grateful for any help I was getting.
“I suppose it must have been because of your “great” shoulders that they chose to make you male. Personally I thought it was to make sure that you never made the same mistake I had as, apparently, it was impossible to tell which of your genitals were better developed and now of course, I can see that perhaps their choice was wrong.
“I was also swayed by the fact that your granddad would probably react better to the prospect of a grandson than a granddaughter and as I said, I thought the doctors knew what they were talking about.”
“And did they?” Darryl asked dubiously.
“I don’t know–probably not, thinking about it.”
“So I became a boy?”
“That’s about it. The hospital wanted shot of us as quickly as possible; something about your being “tainted”. They certainly looked down on me after you were born.
“I was completely alone and really didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think that your dad was bad–well certainly he was no angel, but he was definitely no demon. I couldn’t understand why we were being treated that way, but what choice did I have? Everything for people in my position was done through the church in those days and believe you me, had there been an alternative, I would have taken it.”
The indifference that Darryl had been treating her with up until now had pretty much gone and although she still felt uneasy about whether any forgiveness would be forthcoming, she didn’t feel that the ground she was on now was quite as shaky.
“I know it sounds awful, but until I was able to talk granddad into taking me back–admittedly, using the birth of his “grandson” as bait, you had to go into a foster home. I was devastated. I didn’t get to see you until you were nearly eighteen months old. You had grown so much and there was so much I’d missed. You had already started walking–it was awful, but at the same time such a relief to have you back,” she said, sniffing and dabbing at her eyes, trying to hold back the tears.
“I know that things haven’t been wonderful between us, but I don’t quite know how to react around you on occasion. Sometimes I’ve seen a girlish boy and have fought hard to try and break you of those habits and then other times I see a boyish girl and it’s just not the easiest thing to accept.”
“You should see it from this side,” Darryl quipped with a grin.
“I know things haven’t been perfect between us, but I was just so scared that Mariella would come along and take you away from me again. I hope you can forgive me.”
She started to cry and it wasn’t to garner sympathy either. So much tension and relief was released that she cried more than she had cried since the day they had taken him away from her.
“Hey, mum, of course I forgive you. I‘d no idea things were so hard. It’s alright now,” he assured her. “I’m still here aren’t I? That won’t change.”
She looked up at him, her eyes red and her face stained with tears and makeup.
“I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t really in any position to make the choice Mariella seemed to think was so simple and straightforward. I was angry with her that she seemed to think she could pass judgement without knowing anything about the whys and wherefores… I wish I’d have told you though.”
She started to cry again and Darryl stretched out his arms, beckoning her to come to him. She stood and slid between his arms, the two of them equally tearful, hugging one another, as Gemma sank down on the bed beside him.
“So you’re not angry with me?” she asked.
“Not now. In fact, it’s me who feels that I misjudged the situation.”
“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I really thought I’d lost you again.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he replied with a wry grin.
They sat together for some time, Gemma turning over in her mind the events of the last few weeks and the reliving of that very testing time when Darryl was born. They had come a long way since then and she realised that maybe she had been taking out the frustration of trying to hold all that information inside on him.
Right now, she just hoped that there was a chance of a fresh start; a chance for them to get to know one another again now that those secrets had been shared.
It was the most tearful they had been and for Gemma, it felt good. Not because she had made him cry, but because she felt closer to him now than she had ever done before.
“Don’t forget, mum, the psychiatrist needs to see us tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here,” she said, smiling and with a little wave of her fingers, she closed the door quietly behind her.
“It’ll be alright,” she assured her child, giving his hand a squeeze, even though Darryl could sense she had no idea how it was going to pan out.
“I know, but I can’t help being a bit scared,” he replied. She just smiled and gave his hand another squeeze.
The psychiatrist didn’t appear to be any older than Darryl’s mother–mid to late thirties was all. He was of medium height and build and appeared severely preoccupied.
“Good morning Darren. My name’s Doctor Taylor.”
“Mine’s Darryl,” replied Darryl taking an instant dislike to the man.
“So, Darren, how are you feeling?”
“It’s Darryl–with a “Y”.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Darryl–right.” He scribbled something on his clipboard and looked up, smiling with an insincere, fake smile. “So how are you?”
“How do you think?” Darryl responded.
“I’m not here to think, Darren.”
“Darryl.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s Darryl, not Darren.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“You say that, but I can tell you’re not really paying attention. If you have something more pressing to be getting on with, I suggest you go and do that, then come back when you can give me your full attention.”
The psychiatrist’s eyebrows shot up at about mach two while Gemma tried, almost successfully, to stifle a laugh, disguising the resultant snort with a cough.
Darryl had been waiting a long time to use that line, just as one of his teachers had on him a couple of years before when he was preoccupied with drawing stars on his exercise book. He was extremely satisfied to see the stupid quack look like all his feathers had been ruffled.
Dr. Taylor looked to Gemma, presumably expecting help, but all he got was a shrug.
“I’m sorry, Darryl. Perhaps we should start this again,” the doctor said, obviously trying to compose himself.
“Maybe,” Darryl replied.
“I understand you’ve had a bit of an accident,” the doctor stated, immediately looking away from Darryl and at his clipboard.
“I wouldn’t call it an accident. I was stabbed several times and nearly had my genitals severed.” Darryl said to clarify.
Dr. Taylor blanched and scratched some more scrawl on his clipboard.
“I presume you have been told of the prognosis?” the doctor asked.
“I have.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I’ve been told the prognosis.” Darryl remarked, wondering just what the psychiatrist was expecting.
“What about your options?”
“I wasn’t aware that I had any. I know that it’s unlikely that my penis will ever be able to sustain an erection. My left testicle was severed and my right severely damaged. What that entails hasn’t been made apparent.”
Once again, the psychiatrist blanched and had to excuse himself.
“Was it something I said?” Darryl asked of no-one in particular and Gemma shook her head, suppressing her mirth.
A few minutes passed and Dr. Taylor returned, this time with another doctor in tow.
“Doctor Edwards,” Gemma said, standing up.
“Hello Mrs. Groves, Darryl. How are you both?”
With the pleasantries over with and having explained why he hadn’t been round sooner, the doctor went ahead and explained Darryl’s options.
“The damage to your genitalia was rather more extensive than we could successfully repair and it’s unlikely that you will be able to produce enough testosterone for your body’s needs as a male without constant supplements, neither will you be able to sustain an erection. As far as fathering a child, I don’t think it will be possible, as I fear that the remaining testis has sustained too much damage, but we won’t know that for a while. Even so, I feel confident in suggesting that we will end up removing it in due course. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring better news to the table, but in all honesty, I think I would be giving you false hopes were I to tell you otherwise.”
“So what does that make his options?” Gemma asked. “Does he have any?”
“The options aren’t great. He can remain as he is and supplement his hormone requirements with medication, but that would need to be a permanent thing,” the doctor replied.
Gemma squeezed Darryl’s hand and gave him a smile that helped to reassure him somewhat.
“The other option, of course, is to have a sex change. After reviewing your results, it appears that your body is already producing oestrogen in the same quantities as a girl of your age and frankly, I know it may be a little repugnant for you, but I think the latter option would be better suited for you,” the doctor added
“How do you feel about that, Darryl?” Doctor Taylor asked.
“I don’t know. It’s all so sudden. Is there no way I can kind of get used to the idea?” he asked.
“I don’t know about being able to put the operation off. Personally, I feel it would be better to perform surgery sooner rather than later,” the doctor stated.
“Doesn’t sound very much like an option, does it?” Darryl asked.
“I know, but believe me, it’s for the best.”
“Can I have a day or two to think about it?” Darryl asked, looking to his mum.
“A couple of days would, I think, be acceptable,” Doctor Edwards agreed. “I’d also suggest that if you want to go ahead with the other surgery, you get it done at the Nuffield Clinic in Hove. They have had some very good results and I think you would be most impressed with the outcome. In addition, they are more suitably geared up for the recuperation period afterwards as well as aftercare.”
Later that day, Ron arrived.
“Your mum has told me about your options,” he said. “How d’you feel?”
“A bit overwhelmed.” Darryl replied. “But I’m kind of coming to terms with the fact that it’s probably for the best.”
“Well, Sussex police would like to pick up the tab for the treatment at the clinic if you decide to go; a kind of thank you for your help.”
“Thanks, Ron,” Darryl replied, smiling. “You’ve been a really good friend.”
Two days later, Darryl was moved to a small private clinic on New Church Road in Hove.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Gemma asked as she sat by the side of Darryl’s bed.
“I think they’re probably right that it’s for the best. I just don’t feel I have a choice in all this. It’s a bit like when I was born, isn’t it? We didn’t have any choice then either did we?”
My eternal thanks go to Gabi for editing this
Thanks Gabi
“Madam Chairperson; with all due respect, we have reason to believe that the boy was telling the truth. We have traced his steps as far back as we can and at this stage can find absolutely no contact with the suspects at all,” one of the men present said, looking at a file on the table before him.
“And what does that tell us, Allan?” the Chairperson asked, then answered her own question. “Nothing.”
“On the contrary, Madam Chairperson,” another man responded. “It tells us that he was either getting his information from someone or somewhere. Our investigation has led us to believe he was getting it from the somewhere option and is the genuine article.”
“So, Julian, where did this information come from?”
“We can’t be sure, but we have every reason to suspect that it came from exactly where he said it did.”
“Do you have a photo?” Madam Chairman asked.
Julian looked at Allan.
“No… well yes,” said Allan, quickly hunting through the leaves of paper in the file before him.
“Do you or don’t you, Allan? A simple yes or no will suffice. It’s not rocket science.”
Allan looked embarrassed. “Yes, Madam Chairperson, we do have a photo, but it’s not a good one. It was taken by a reporter outside a house behind Hove Station. It’s blurred and I don’t think a particularly good likeness.” He passed the photo along the line of people to the Chairperson.
“I’m intrigued,” she conceded, looking at the photo and turning it this way and that. “I want as much information on this boy as you can get. If he is what you suggest he is, then we need to know that we can gain his trust. Oh and your first priority is an up-to-date photo.”
Moments later, the conference room was empty, save Julian. He picked up the telephone and dialled a number.
“Hi honey, it’s me,” he said. “Yes, I’m just leaving now… I’ll be on the first train back, shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours… Yes I know it’s late, but the meeting went on longer than I anticipated… I love you too… See you soon.”
Pushing the files into his brief case and closing the flap, the man grabbed his raincoat from the coat-stand by the door and left. He took the lift to the ground floor and headed towards the exit.
“Goodnight Mr. Croft,” the security guard called after him.
“Goodnight William,” Julian responded without looking back.
“You can’t stay indoors for the rest of your life, so yes,” her mother replied as the girl squirmed on the seat, uncomfortable; her eyes darting around the small café.
The café door opened and a small bell rang with a single “ding” as a man walked in. He scanned the people quickly and when his eyes fell on the girl and her mother, he brightened noticeably, giving them a smile and a small wave as he made his way to their table.
“Hello Gemma. Thanks for coming,” he said.
“Couldn’t resist such a gracious invitation, Ron,” Gemma replied.
He turned to the young girl. “You’re looking well, Darryl. How are you getting on with the changes?”
“Not too bad thanks, Ron. I still feel very self-conscious though.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Ron, looking at her mum. A glance in her mum’s direction and Darryl could see that she was looking pretty much the same as the policeman. “Am I missing something here?”
Ron looked slightly bashful and Gemma smiled, probably because not everything that happened went into her daughter’s head by osmosis or however it happened. A waitress–chewing gum–tottered across to their table on a pair of heels that would have made the average stilt-walker wince.
“Can I get you any-fink?” she asked.
Ron looked the girl up and down, taking in her heavily made-up face and shook his head, trying hard to suppress the obvious mirth, lurking behind his lips.
“Just tea for me,” he replied and turned to Gemma and Darryl. “Can I get you two anything?”
“Chocolate milkshake would be nice, please,” Darryl replied.
“I’ll have coffee,” her mother announced.
“That it?” the waitress asked accusingly, scribbling on an order pad and looking disgusted at the three for not ordering at least a sandwich or the special. She tottered off in her impractical shoes that to work in must have been hellish, never mind looking ridiculous.
Once the waitress had gone, Ron looked at Darryl, taking her hand. Even though he wasn’t a particularly big man, her dainty hand was almost completely engulfed by his.
“You know, this is quite remarkable,” he began. “I can remember seeing you in the hospital bed for the first time and thinking that for some reason you didn’t seem right–too pretty? I didn’t know you then and I have to say that even in such a short period of time, you really have started to blossom.”
Darryl blushed and actually looked pleased with what Ron had told her.
“I told you,” said her mum. “But you won’t listen to me.”
“Thank you,” Darryl said. “I am getting better, but it’s not easy. People are making it harder than it already is because of that stupid newspaper article. It’s like they’re blaming me for what happened to those women–even though for a short time, I was one of them.”
“It’s all right,” Ron assured.
“No, it’s not,” she said as tears ran from her eyes. “They’re blaming mum and Paul and Doris; like they had something to do with what happened and it’s all my fault. I wish I’d never got involved.”
The policeman took both of her hands in his and smiled warmly. “You didn’t have a choice and anyway, there are plenty of people–I for one–who feel that you did more than would have been expected of anyone to help.” He passed her a serviette to wipe her face. “Anyway, no long faces. The cinema awaits.”
“Do you know what we’re going to see?” Gemma enquired.
“What would you like, Darryl?” asked the policeman.
“’Dawn of the Dead’ sounds good or ‘Enter the Dragon’. Bruce Lee’s awesome.”
“I don’t think you’re old enough for those and with me being a policeman...” he held his hand out and shrugged. “Clint Eastwood’s in Every which way but loose; what do you reckon?”
Darryl made a face. The idea of someone like Clint acting in a film with an Orang-utan was a bit far-fetched. She shrugged. “I’m easy.”
He had been used to having someone around who directed his life and now that someone had been so rudely taken out of the equation, Adrian’s life had become disastrous. He hadn’t dared to go back to the hospital to check on Ian and didn’t know whether that had been the right decision or not.
He sat on the bus, the vapour from his dinner wafting up through the newspaper it had been wrapped in–medium cod, large chips, pickled onion and a Wally, with plenty of salt and vinegar. The smell was tempting him to open his package there and then and get stuck in. The weather had turned colder and the hot package on his lap was warming him nicely. He looked down at the crudely wrapped package and something caught his eye.
An article in the newspaper, offering an apology for the story it had run the previous week about Darryl Groves being a witness to the murder of Suzie Croft. It went on to say that their information had been considered accurate at the time of printing, but had proved unreliable afterwards.
“Shit!” Adrian growled, receiving angry looks from the passengers nearby.
He got up and left the bus at the next stop.
Walking up the street, clutching his package of fried fish and chips, he wondered whether anyone had seen them doing anything; if there really had been any witness and whether anyone actually knew that he or Ian had been involved with those women.
He wasn’t sure whether his next move would be a good one, but after wolfing down his fish-dish and belching loudly, he rinsed his hands and got ready to go up to the hospital.
Ian was in bed with that many tubes coming out of him that he looked almost like a plate of spaghetti. A machine beeped incessantly in the corner.
“It’s not looking good,” the nurse informed, whispering. “He doesn’t seem to be responding to the treatment, though that’s not entirely surprising.”
“What do you mean?” Adrian demanded. “What about antibiotics and the wonders of modern medicine?”
“We don’t know everything and where human bites are concerned, sometimes antibiotics work and sometimes they don’t. Until we can find something that will work, the prognosis is not good I’m afraid. The infection was quite advanced when he was brought in. Maybe if he’d been admitted sooner…”
Adrian sat there a while, the beeping of the machine starting to feel like Chinese water torture.
Had they not been so afraid of coming here in the first place and had they not feared that they had been seen…
“It’s that bloody journalist bird’s fault, mate,” he said quietly. “She’s the one to blame for this mess. It’s time for some payback.”
He squeezed Ian’s hand gently, looking down on his friend. A tear escaped his eye and slowly rolled down his cheek.
“She ain’t getting away with this, the bitch.”
“You’re Sergeant Cummings, aren’t you?” asked the woman.
“I might be, but not today. Today’s a day off and Sergeant Cummings is on hold until tomorrow afternoon. Today, Ron is going to a movie with his friends.”
“Yes, yes of course,” the man chuckled. “Perhaps if I explained?”
Ron, the man and his friend, sat at a nearby table. They ordered a couple of coffees and got the familiar black look from the waitress for not ordering more.
“My name’s Croft. Julian Croft.”
Ron didn’t bat an eyelid, though the name did mean something.
“I suspect you know of my niece, Suzie?”
“She was your niece?”
“That’s right. I became very interested in the case when we found out that she was one of the poor women abducted by those lunatics. Needless to say, I wanted justice to be served to its fullest extent when we learnt that Suzie’s body had been found, but I guess we’ll have to leave that to you good people and the Crown Prosecution Service, won’t we?”
Julian smiled and Ron felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know why, he just did.
“Probably wise,” Ron remarked dryly.
“Yes, well,” Julian continued. “I would just like to say thank you to the boy who helped get those women away.”
“Boy?” asked Ron. “There was no boy.”
“But I understood that a young lad who claimed to have psychic abilities helped in locating those women?”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken Mr. Croft. It was a fabrication by an over-zealous journalist and retracted the next week.”
At that point Gemma and Darryl returned from the ladies.
“And who are these lovely ladies?” Julian asked.
“This is my friend, Gemma. Gemma, this is Suzie Croft’s uncle: Julian and this is–”
“Debbie,” said Darryl stepping forward. “Gemma’s daughter. Pleased to meet you. I’m sorry about your niece.”
“I’m really sorry about Suzie,” said Ron. “But as far as the boy is concerned, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“Never mind. I had to ask.”
Ron shook hands with Julian, nodded politely to the woman with him and escorted Gemma and ‘Debbie’ from the café.
Outside, Ron looked at Darryl. “Debbie?” he asked.
“I know. I’m sorry, but he definitely was Suzie’s uncle, but there was something he wasn’t telling us and I didn’t want to take any chances.”
Ron shook his head. “I’m going to have to watch you, missy, aren’t I?”
© 2011 Nick B
My thanks once again to Gabi for taking the time to apply her wonderful editing talents to this piece. Thanks, Gabs.
The film turned out to be terrific fun. Having up till that point only seen Clint Eastwood in those spaghetti Westerns, ‘Kelly’s Heroes’ and ‘Where Eagles Dare’, it gave Darryl a whole new level of respect for him.
As far as her awkwardness was concerned, this wasn’t the first time she’d ventured out in a skirt or wearing makeup, but simply ‘not being new to it’ didn’t really make any difference, she still felt self-conscious. It felt to her as though everyone was scrutinising her. As the day wore on, however, her self-consciousness disappeared and by the end of the movie she felt and looked a great deal more comfortable.
As strange as it may seem, she had had prior warning that the change was going to happen and really should have been more used to the idea–but she wasn’t. She thought she was going to have time to think about it, procrastinate and ruminate over the issue and then when she felt like it, make the decision.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. However, it wasn’t the becoming a girl bit at all, it was the lack of control; the lack of being able to decide for herself or even get used to the idea. It would have been nice to maybe try it out for size and see how she felt about it.
Wearing the underwear and bra was nice–odd, but nice–especially not having any dangling bits to support, and tights–over smooth legs–felt really nice, something that she’d dreamt of doing for a long time, but never had the courage to try. Now she was getting to do it without the need for an excuse, or in the big closet as they say.
True, part of the time, she felt that jeans and a t-shirt, perhaps a bomber jacket–oh and trainers–nice, comfortable trainers–would have been better, but the feeling of the snug nylon ‘sheaths’, encasing her legs, together with the softness of her panties, that caressed a still somewhat tender and incredibly sensitive part of her anatomy… well, just felt so good.
They got home and Ron looked at the young girl, his eyebrows raised. “Debbie?” he asked.
Darryl smiled a bit ruefully. “It was a spur of the moment thing. I really like Debbie Harry and hers was the first name that popped into my head.
“I’m not sure I like it,” Gemma said with a grimace. “Sounds a bit ‘Essex’. Still, I suppose it’s marginally better than Sharon or Tracy. What I can’t understand is what’s wrong with Darryl? Darryl’s a nice name. I like Darryl.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Darryl at all, mum,” she explained, hoping to head any further distress off at the pass. “It’s just that now people are starting to put it together with the kidnapping of those women. Plus, it’s a boy’s name. I’m not much of a boy, am I?” She held her arms out and turned slowly. Clearly Gemma couldn’t argue with that.
“She’s got a point actually,” Ron said after some thought. “Maybe it would be best.”
“What?” Gemma exclaimed. “Darryl to Debbie?” Gemma stopped what she was doing and turned to stare at the policeman. “You are joking, aren’t you?”
“No, actually, I’m deadly serious.” The policeman’s expression reaffirmed that seriousness. “Maybe ‘Debbie’s’ not right–although perhaps Deborah wouldn’t be so bad–but There’s much to be said for a little bit of ‘incognito’ right now.” He tapped the side of his nose adding a knowing wink.
The trio was quiet for a few moments and Darryl knew that taking the pseudonym of ‘Debbie’ back at the café was perhaps only delaying things, but she knew Ron had a point; perhaps some more permanent changes in that direction would be a good idea. Maybe if she wasn’t Darryl anymore, then the people around her wouldn’t be in so much danger.
“We know Darryl has attracted a fair bit of attention lately, but what I want to know is how those people who turned up in the café knew I or perhaps even we would be there?”
“Now who’s getting on the conspiracy bandwagon?” Gemma asked. “Next you’ll be talking about assassins and grassy knolls. It could be pure coincidence.”
“Coincidence?” Ron asked, rhetorically. “It’s possible, but I very much doubt it. Anyway, I trust Darryl–er, Debbie,” he paused as he appeared to search for something to call her. “Anyway… so far, she hasn’t been wrong even once and that means we should pay attention. If she says he’s dodgy, then he’s dodgy. I just wish I’d kept you two out of the conversation. Those two are bound to put two and two together and then we’ll be back to square one.”
“Square one? What d’you mean? Anyway, I didn’t say he was ‘dodgy’,” Darryl corrected. “I just said that there was something he wasn’t telling us.”
“That’s dodgy, sweetheart," Ron said patiently. "If you’re right, he had an ulterior motive for starting the conversation in the first place–that’s dodgy in my book and now he’ll know I was in the café with Darryl’s–your mum and that you were the girl. Right now, we–you have the advantage, but leave things as they are and they'll catch up with you, putting us all back to square one.”
Silence descended again and Darryl–alone with her thoughts–was not comfortable. She didn’t ask for any of what was happening around her, to her or to the others, yet there it was larger than life and twice as ugly. “I’m so sorry,” she said, getting up and rushing out of the room.
Gemma looked at Ron and then tore after her her daughter, finding her locked in her bedroom with music blasting.
She knocked on the door. “Darryl? Are you alright?”
“Leave me alone.”
“I most certainly will not. I have nearly lost you twice now in the last few weeks and I will not let it happen again. Open the door,” Gemma said as she leant on the door. “Please?”
The door opened and Darryl turned straight back around and threw herself on her bed, burying her head in the pillows.
Gemma turned the music off. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Slowly, Darryl turned over and looked through tearstained eyes at her mum.
“I don’t know. It suddenly hit me when we were in the kitchen. You were thinking how easy it was when I was just Darryl–your son. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but the most you had to be worried about was whether I was going to fall off a bike or a skateboard. You know–boy things.
“Now you’re worried for a whole load of other reasons and I’m so scared of getting into anything just in case. I’ve spent the last few weeks in hospital being poked, prodded, cut, sewn, pricked and just about anything else you can think of and I really don’t want to go through anything like that again.
“Paul, Doris, you–you’re all being given hassle by people you don’t know and people you do–all because of me. On top of that, I’ve been kidnapped, stabbed and involved Ron, who has had to look after me on an almost full-time basis. I’ve got him into trouble and God knows I didn’t want to. You would have thought that now that’s behind us, that would be easing off, but it's not. It’s just chucked a whole new dose of badness at us.”
With that, she burst into tears again.
Ron entered as Gemma sat, holding her daughter, gently rocking back and forth.
When the sobbing stopped, Gemma checked and Darryl was sound asleep, despite how early it was. She gently lowered her to the bed, covered her over and shooed Ron out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her and hurrying after him.
“Is she alright?” he whispered.
“I think so. No real harm,” she told the worried policeman. “The doctors explained this might happen. It’s something to do with the hormones. I probably went through something similar when I was her age or younger. I can’t say I remember much about it. It feels like an eternity ago.”
“I can understand how she feels,” Ron paused, screwing his eyes up. “Well sort of anyway,” he said. “She’s been dropped straight in the deep end. What with her abilities and now this, it’s got to be damned strange to say the least.”
“You’re a good man, Ron Cummings.”
“Thanks, Gemma. I’d better go.”
“So soon?” she asked, standing close…
Julian Croft had expected Sergeant Cummings to be tight-lipped about the whole kidnap affair. His niece had after all, had her life taken from her and so far, there was no news on how the other women were. What had been said by the newspaper had been quickly retracted and it was only fair that Ron would want to keep all the other information to himself.
There were too many accounts of the young lad–Darryl–to ignore. He’d told people things that he couldn’t possibly have known, but the majority of people claiming he’d said the things he did could well have been influenced by the newspaper articles. He was going to have to get to the bottom of this by good old-fashioned legwork.
He decided to start with the hospital, since there were likely to be many that came into contact with him during his stay. At least that would verify–or not, whether the boy had the abilities he was reputed to have.
The first person he contacted was a woman named Anne, who had the bed next to Darryl when he was first in the hospital. He flashed an ID card as he introduced himself and Hayley Anderson at her front door.
“Sounds official,” she said. “You’d better come in. What did you say you wanted to know?”
She led them into the lounge. “Please, sit down. Can I get you some tea?”
“Er, no thank you. We'll try not to take up too much of your time. We’re here to ask you about hospital security. Shortly after you were discharged, there was a terrible to-do there and patients were worried that their security arrangements weren’t adequate.”
“Wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa.
“I’m sure you must have heard on the news about the kidnapped women.”
“I did. What those poor women went through. It must have been awful.”
“It was,” he said, his niece’s face popping into his mind. “Do you remember Darryl?”
“Darryl? Of course I do! Yes, lovely girl, odd name though,” she told him. “What’s she got to do with that?”
“Er,” Girl? “Nothing,” he replied, a little shocked by her definition of Darryl. “I just need to ask you some questions about her.”
“Can’t see that one getting into trouble,” Anne said. “Breaking hearts, yes, but not getting into trouble. She was such a sweet thing. She was so pleased when I left her my magazines. Why do you need to know about her?”
Back at the office, Julian had been fighting with something about the three he met in the café. Alright one of them was Sergeant Cummings, but there was something about the other two. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was that didn’t add up.
“Hayley? What was Darryl–the psychic boy’s mother’s name?”
“Just a moment,” she replied. “Ah, here it is–Gemma; Gemma Groves.”
“So that was him!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table.
“Sorry?”
“The girl; the one from the café–Debbie, she called herself. She was Darryl Groves. It all makes sense, don’t you see?”
“Hello,” Said Gemma, answering the phone.
“Hi, Gemma, it’s Ron. Is Darryl still asleep?”
“Yes, she hasn’t moved since you left. Why?” There was something about Ron’s tone that worried her.
“You need to wake her up now, get some stuff together and get out of there as quickly as possible.”
“What?”
“Don’t argue, please. This isn’t the time. Just pack some bags and meet me here at the station. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Ron, now just hold on a minute. What’s all this about?”
“It’s about Darryl’s hunch. I made a few enquiries and well, let’s just say I think it would be wise for you not to be there.”
“This is getting a little out of hand,” she scoffed. “I don’t think just because Darryl’s acted a little cautious that it means we’re in trouble.”
“Gemma,” he asked, pausing for a moment. “Do you trust me?”
She didn’t have to think. “Of course I do.”
“Well just do as I ask. Put a couple of bits and pieces into a bag and get a taxi down here.”
“You’d better have a damned good reason for this,” she said. “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She put the phone down and although she wouldn’t have admitted it to Ron, she was more than a little scared.
“That was Ron, wasn’t it?” Darryl asked from the doorway.
She spun round, nearly knocking the phone off the sideboard. “How did you–?” she began, but the expression on Darryl’s face meant she didn’t have to finish. "You’re dressed already, I see,” she observed.
“Yes and I’ve put some things into my hold-all too. Shall I phone for a taxi while you get your stuff together?”
Gemma was taken aback. Darryl was so calm about everything and yet just a few moments ago, she’d been crying about getting caught up in stuff that scared her; stuff that she hadn’t asked for.
“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be ready though, does it,” Darryl asked.
“Stop that!” Gemma chided. “Just phone the taxi company will you?” She stormed out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, muttering and pulling stuff out of this drawer and that, throwing it in a heap on the bed.
“Sorry, Mum,” Darryl said from the doorway.
Gemma looked at the pretty little thing that used to be her son, trying hard to reconcile how this came to be. “It’s alright, honey. It’s not your fault.”
“Oh, yes,” Darryl said quickly. “The taxi will be here in–”
The car horn from outside negated the need for her to complete the sentence.
“Oh, bloody hell! Ask him to wait, would you?”
Within ten minutes, the taxi pulled up outside the police station and true to his word, Ron was already waiting outside. He paid the fare and helped them with their bags. “I’m just round the corner,” he told them.
Once in his car, Gemma wanted answers.
“I asked some questions at the station about Julian Croft and you don’t want to know what I was told.”
“Why? Is he a criminal or something?” she asked.
“No, but he works for a section of MI5 or something–very ‘hush-hush’ if you know what I mean. He’s one of the top men in a department of the security forces in this country that causes people to go missing. They’re a bit like the CIA in the States–a law unto themselves and–seemingly–accountable to no-one.”
“But surely, they’re on our side aren’t they?”
“Sort of. The thing is, if they’re interested in Darryl, the chances are, you’ll never see her again.”
“Oh, now you’re really being paranoid.”
Ron said nothing as he made a right turn down towards the sea front.
“I’m not being paranoid, Gemma. I’m only too aware of what kind of things these people get up to and I’m sure you wouldn’t want Darryl mixed up in all that, would you? I know I don’t.”
Gemma looked at the policeman, her eyes boring into his head and a thin ‘almost’ smile bent the corners of her mouth ever so slightly. “I thought you lot weren’t supposed to get emotionally involved.”
“That’s medical people, but you’re probably right. I’m probably making a really big mistake getting emotionally involved with you two.”
Julian and Hayley stepped out of their car and walked across to the Groves’ front door. Julian knocked loudly. There was no reply and as he was about to knock for a second time, one of the neighbours happened to pass.
“You looking for the Groves’?” he enquired.
“We are. Are they not in?”
“They was,” the man said. “But you just missed ’em. Went off in a taxi, they did.”
“How long ago?”
“Like I said, you just missed ’em. Don’t know where they went, mind,” he said, then trundled off and left them to it.
“Shit!” Julian exclaimed. “This is starting to get on my nerves.”
Back at their office, Julian sat behind his desk and wondered what to tell the chairperson. She was a stickler for results and thus far, he’d had none. He picked up the phone.
“Hello? Yes, this is Julian Croft. Get Richard Sands here as soon as possible.”
“Do you think that’s wise, Julian?” Hayley asked.
“This is a situation that’s likely to drag on unless we do something positive–”
“Pro-activity, eh?”
“Precisely and the only way we’re likely to find the Groves kid now is by fighting fire with fire. If anyone can find him, Sands can.”
“Agreed,” she said. “But Sands isn’t exactly renowned for his–how can I put this?”
“Gentle approach?”
“Exactly. Sands rarely leaves his, er, ‘prey’ in the same condition he finds it in, does he?”
Julian thought for a moment. “We’ll have to see.”
Later, there was a knock on Julian’s office door.
“Come,” he said.
A short man, no taller than about five-five walked in. He was painfully thin and his face was drawn–almost cadaver-like. His nose was large and hooked and his deep-set eyes had a look of pure evil about them that was very nearly palpable–definitely not the sort of person you’d want to meet in a dark alley–despite his diminutive stature.
“Ah, Sands. So good of you to come,” Julian said without looking up.
The man just chuckled and Julian sat bolt upright in his chair to face the new arrival.
“Yes, and I warn you, Croft, I’m not someone who likes to be fucked about with. I do things my way, is that clear?”
Julian looked up at the man, whose eyes seemed to be glowing with a look of pure malevolence, and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I don’t care how you do the job. You can do it in a pink tutu for all the difference it will make to me. I just want it done. Is that clear?” he said and despite his assertiveness, it had little effect on Sands.
“You want the boy, right?”
“Yes and we need him–her–whatever, intact,” he paused, returning Sands’ stare. “Completely intact.”
Sands shrugged. “As you wish. I’ll need something to track him.”
“You’ll find anything pertinent to this downstairs. Take what you need.”
Sands’ thin lips appeared to bend into something that could possibly be loosely described as a smile, sending shivers up and down Julian’s back. A quick glance across the room told him that Hayley felt it too.
“Bloody hell!” she gasped. “He is alive, isn’t he?”
Julian nodded.
“Shit! And I thought The Omen was scary. Hard to believe he’s even real isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Julian said, visibly shaken after standing his ground. “Fortunately, we only use him when it’s absolutely necessary.”
“I’m still not sure if this isn’t going a little too far,” she replied. “What if the kid can’t handle Sands?”
“Like I said. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
To be continued…
When Steve gets the job of reading Tarot cards at a hallowe'en party, he has no idea what that entails...
The moon rose over the countryside one dark October night.
A lone stone house sat atop a hill that, from a distance, looked as though a river of flame ran from its front door–flame that belonged to torches which, in turn, belonged to villagers baying for the blood of the occupant.
“Elizabeth Knotts. Thou standeth before us accused of witchcraft. How pleadeth thee?”
“Judge me would thee, Gilbert Morris?” said the woman. She was once pretty, but the years and a hard living had robbed her of that one-time beauty. “I who have cured your cattle of the foulest of pox? I who have aided thine own wife upon the birthing of thy children? How can thee judge me so foully?”
The man looked away, but the crowd cried out and jostled.
“’Tis her fault,” called one.
“She be the cause,” called others.
“She must be tried. It is the law––”
“I be sorry, Elizabeth,” whispered Gilbert before turning to the crowd. “Take her to the square.”
A cheer went up as two burly men took hold of the woman and between them, marched her to the village square.
Upon their arrival, Elizabeth observed the large trunk set amidst piles of kindling and firewood–evidence of the outcome which, it was evident, had already been decided.
“Hast thou anything to say afore I pronounce judgement upon thee?” she was asked.
“Only this, villagers,” she spat. “I know each and every one of thee behind this and I know that this is not just. Thou hast made a grave error in thy judgement of me, for I have done nothing but aid thee.” She swept a gnarly finger across the assembled villagers, each of whom took involuntary steps back. “All of thee. Is this to be my repayment of that aid?
“Mark these my words,” she hissed in a tone that struck fear into the hearts of each and every one of the villagers present and although her words were softly spoken, each of those present had no difficulty in hearing them. “Thou wilt find my wrath descending upon thine offspring. Whether it be in one year or millennia, I shall return and I shall take mine revenge on the descendents of each and every one of thee––”
Silence fell upon the assemblage. No sound–save for the rustling of the trees and the guttering of the burning torches–could be heard. Gilbert Morris turned to the Mayor.
“Are we being perhaps too hasty?” he asked, trembling at the thought of his descendents being punished for this.
“Surely thou canst believe her blasphemous spoutings; her heresy?”
“Forgive me, but it’s obvious that you do, my Lord. Otherwise thou canst believe that she could possibly be responsible for the crimes thou hast levelled against her.”
The Mayor “harrumphed” and gave the order.
“By the power vested in me, on this, the thirty-first day of October in the year of our Lord fifteen hundred and nine, I condemn Elizabeth Knotts to be burnt at the stake for the crime of witchcraft.” He raised his voice and demanded, “Burn the witch.”
The crowd cheered as they each threw their torches into the wood around the base of the stake.
“I shall have my revenge, mark my words, I shall.” With that, the flames rose to the sound of an evil cackle.
That was the last time anyone saw Elizabeth Knotts. No-one really knew what happened to her on that fateful All Hallows’ Eve as nothing was found in the remains of the pyre. The only things left at all, were a pack of Tarot cards, undamaged in the ashes…
Fifteen year-old Steve Collins tottered into the living room, where his mother was making some final adjustments to her witch costume for the Halloween party to which they had been invited.
“What do you think, mum? It’s not finished–”
His mother cut him off mid sentence. “What do you think you look like?” she demanded.
He stared at her in disbelief as she berated him for his choice of costume. “You said you wanted me to go in fancy dress. After I found this stuff in the attic, I decided I’d go as David Bowie–Ziggy Stardust. What’s wrong with that? I thought you might help with the makeup.”
“Makeup??” She almost blew a gasket right there on the spot. “I think not! You’re a young man, Steven. You should consider acting like one. What will people think?”
“Who cares?” he said with indifference. “It’s a fancy dress party for God’s sake. This was all the rage when you were my age. Anyway what does it matter what they think?”
“Who cares?” she asked. “I care. I’m not having you going out dressed in my clothes and makeup and that’s final.”
“But mum,” he whined. “It’s not like I’m going to dress like this all the time, is it?”
“That’s not the point. I thought you’d choose something like a pirate or something vampirish–not going out looking like a prancing poof.”
“But everybody dresses like that. It’s usually either those or cavaliers. I wanted something different.”
She was adamant that his choice was out of the question and would hear no more on the subject. “Makeup? Whatever next,” she muttered.
His choice of ‘costume’ was born out of the discovery in the attic of a pair of knee-high platform boots in pink leather, some skin-tight satin jeans and a white satin blouse. The jeans were a bit on the tight side, crushing his whatsits into his groin, but after a few minutes, he kind of got used to it. After looking at himself in the mirror, he considered it was alright, or would be with the application of makeup.
He was confused that she should have taken such a stance in light of what the party was about and all the grief she’d been giving him about going in costume. All in all, he felt quite dejected as he went back upstairs to change into everyday clothes.
Once he returned downstairs, he was sullen and unresponsive. Having taken so long to pluck up the courage to assemble a costume he was actually going to wear, he felt let down after his mother’s outburst. It must have shown as his mother took one look at him and gave him a stern talking to.
“You’d better not ruin this party or there’ll be hell to pay,” she said, gathering her bag and car keys. “I wasn’t sure about letting you come, but Lynne insisted. I don’t suppose she’ll be overly impressed with the fact that you haven’t gone in a costume.”
“But I had a perfectly good costume––” he began.
“–Don’t even go there, young man,” she said gruffly.
She drove them in silence to the party where Lynne, the hostess, greeted them at the door. She too was dressed as a witch and thanks to her rather prominent nose and the green face paint, she looked really convincing too, though he thought his mother was probably the real thing–all things considered.
“Hi, come in… Er, where’s your costume, Steve?”
“Sorry. I couldn’t get one in time…” he lied.
His mother shrugged. “You know how teenagers are these days,” she observed, deprecatingly as the two of them followed Lynne into her house.
Inside, few had turned up, but Steve saw a girl on the sofa in the lounge who caught his eye, although he didn’t have the confidence to talk to her. She was about his age and quite pretty, dressed in a Little Red Riding Hood costume that made her look incredibly cute.
He sauntered over to a large table which had been piled high with snacks of one form or another, giving her a sideways glance en-route, but within milliseconds, his interest in the girl had been replaced with a sudden need to attempt the decimation of the entire spread as he grazed on the goodies before him.
“Hello,” she said, suddenly standing close.
Steve turned round sharply, his mouth full of crisps, nuts and some of those really nice bits of cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks.
“’lo,” he managed, his hand flying up to his mouth as crumbs of salt and vinegar flavoured potato slivers fell from between his lips.
Fortunately, she giggled and as they looked at one another, something passed between them, unspoken and yet almost palpable.
“Steve?” called his mother.
“Uh?” he replied, smiling at the girl, whose name he hadn’t even had time to ascertain.
“Come here.”
How embarrassing. There he was doing his level best to look cool–which probably would have been easier had he been wearing that really cool get-up he’d discovered in the loft–and might have been doing alright had he not nearly sprayed the poor girl with a mouthful of masticated savouries. If that wasn’t bad enough, his mother calling him over like some kind of child did nothing to improve his chances.
“You know you’ll have to pay a forfeit, don’t you?” said Lynne, with an evil glint in her eye.
“A forfeit?”
“Yes. That’s where the party pooper does something he or she doesn’t want to do, because he or she didn’t do something that he or she was supposed to do. In this case, it’s a costume–or lack thereof...”
“I know what a forfeit is,” Steve retorted, sullenly.
“Yes, well. Just in case there is any confusion, you’re the party pooper. Anyway, it’s nothing really,” Lynne admitted with a shrug. “Just a bit of fun.” Her face however, showed the disappointment at his not wearing any form of costume and his mother pointedly looked away from either of them.
Lynne led them downstairs into the cellar, which had been done out with little glow-in-the-dark skeletons, witches on broomsticks, coffins and skulls that hung from the walls and ceiling. At the foot of the stairs sat a circular table and on it, a purple silk scarf had been draped. On top of the scarf sat a small glass ball and a pack of cards the like of which, Steve had not seen before.
“What’re these?” he asked.
“Oh, they’re Tarot cards. I bought them at one of those old curiosity shops in town. They’re supposed to be antique, but you know what those traders are like, they’ll tell you anything to get a sale. The trader that sold me those was actually only too pleased to get rid of them. He said there was something bad about them, some sort of story that went along with them, but I don’t believe in all that rubbish anyway. I thought they’d be perfect for tonight and they do lend some authenticity. Your forfeit–if you haven’t already guessed, will be to tell people’s fortunes.”
“But I don’t know anything about fortune telling. I know a bit about Tarot, but not enough to read them.”
“You don’t have to. There’s a crystal ball there too if you prefer… actually, it’s plastic, but it looks the part, doesn’t it? So, I don’t know, just make something up. Like I said, it’s only a bit of fun. Meanwhile, we need to get you ready.”
“Eh?” said a somewhat startled Steve.
A few moments later and…
“Perfect!” said Lynn after she had applied some garish eye-makeup; lipstick and rouge to his face, draped a shawl around his shoulders and tied a scarf about his head. “At least you have some sort of costume now… Welcome to Madame Mysterio’s Mystic Parlour,” she said dramatically.
He did however see the funny side; the irony in the fact that whilst his costume had been colourful, he was depicting a male celebrity, whereas here, he was playing the part of a woman. His mother’s face was a picture and she probably only went along with this charade as Lynne seemed to think nothing of dressing her son as a woman–at least his top half.
“Good evening,” he said as a youngish woman approached, getting into character. “What can Madame Mysterio do for you on this most auspicious of nights?” His accent was appalling, probably based on half of Europe, flitting between French and Italian with a bit of Eastern European thrown in for good measure.
Most auspicious of nights? he asked himself. What was that supposed to mean?
“Shouldn’t you be telling me?” the woman said with a bit of a giggle. “After all, you’re the clairvoyant, aren’t you?”
Steve looked at the woman. Probably in her early thirties, petite with bubbly blonde hair and a penchant for tight, short skirts that left little if anything to the imagination. “As you say,” he intoned and before he knew what was happening, he’d taken the cards out of the pack and shuffled them. He didn’t even remember bending down to retrieve them from under the table.
“What is your name, miss?” he asked.
“Miss?” she remarked, giggling irritatingly. “That’s nice; I like that. I’m Nancy.”
“Would you like to cut the cards, Nancy?”
She cut the cards with hands that had impeccably manicured and painted fingernails and again, Steve started laying them out. He could feel a strange tingling sensation as he held the cards in his left hand; a tingling that seemed to get stronger each time he lifted a card from the deck and placed it in the spread.
That was another thing.
Without even being told, reading any instructions or anything, he knew exactly where to put the cards. The first went down with the second across it–forming a cross. The third went below those two and the four above. The fifth and sixth cards went right and then left, level with the first two and then the last four went up the right hand side of the others. This bothered him, but he just put it down to perhaps having seen the spread in a film or something.
“Let me see…” he said in that mysterious way, adding a few “oohs” and “ahhs” for good measure. He put the remaining cards down and passed his hands, palms down over the layout.
He knew instinctively that there were seventy-eight cards in the deck; twenty-two of which were known as the Major Arcana and the rest the Minor Arcana and what was more, he knew what each of them meant, whether they were upright or inverted and how they interacted with one another. In Nancy’s case, he could almost see her life spread out before him; the acrimonious divorce that had just been finalised; the fact that she had done very well out of the settlement and worse…
Her husband was not a nice man and from the cards, Steve could see that his style of retribution was on its way. Over and over in his mind he tried to work out whether or not she should tell Nancy about her husband’s plans, but the more he thought about it, the less plausible it sounded.
The whole story as the cards were telling him sounded like something out of a gangster movie, her husband playing the part of Al Capone and getting one of his scar-faced henchmen to do the dirty so that the police could find her, feet firmly entrenched in a concrete block at the bottom of the river or something.
His young mind turned it over. It surely was a conundrum and from what science fiction and horror films he’d seen, there usually wasn’t any way of escaping what was on the cards, as it were. Whatever she tried to do, could be precisely what would bring about her death–whether her ex-husband was involved or not.
“I see a tall, dark stranger,” he began and rattled off a whole load of gibberish in the hopes of placating the woman.
“Huh!” she snorted. “Some clairvoyant you turned out to be. Couldn’t you have been just a little bit more original and told me something about my ex and his murder plot.”
“You know about that?” he asked, astonished.
“Of course I do!” she retorted.
“Oh. I am sorry. Perhaps I should have told you the truth.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “You knew about my husband’s plot?”
“Yes and I saw that it happens soon. I thought maybe he’d had the brakes on your car tampered with or something. I don’t know. I just got the impression that your death and your car were connected.”
“You can actually read those things?” she queried, pointing at the ten cards on the table.
“Apparently, yes,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s more of a shock for me than it is for you, I can assure you.”
“Wow. I’m impressed. Thank you,” she said as she tottered up the stairs on those impossibly high heels.
He sat back at the table, thinking about the reading. It was a real surprise to find out that he could do this and it wasn’t fluke either–Nancy had proved that and to say that he was pleased with himself was a drastic understatement. He sat back, the cards in his hands wondering whether he would get another customer.
Within moments, another woman came down the stairs. “Can you read the cards for me?” she asked.
He didn’t even have to think about it and he smiled, shuffling the cards and as soon as he did so, he noticed how much stronger the tingling was, but he put it down to his imagination.
Four more readings were performed and by the last one, the tingling had become so pronounced that he was actually trembling as he dealt the cards. As soon as he put the cards down, the tingling stopped. He was loath to stop as this was something he found he was actually good at, but the tingling sensation wasn’t just in his hands as it had been before, but was all over. At times it even tingled in his stomach which made him nauseous.
Perhaps it was time to call it a day. He’d read five people and considering it could take over half an hour to read each one, he thought enough’s enough. It was time he had a break anyway and if he didn’t soon, the whole of that table of food would have been eaten and that would have been a travesty.
He placed the cards on a stand on the other side of the room and when he turned round, there was Little Red Riding Hood.
“Hello again,” he said.
“Can you do me too?” she asked.
“Beg pardon?”
“I mean, can you do a card reading for me too.”
He sat down opposite her at the table. “I’d rather not,” he said quietly. “I’m not really feeling all that right now,” he explained.
“But you’re so good at it,” she countered.
“I really don’t know anything about it–honest. Besides, I only got the job because I didn’t come in costume.”
“Your costume looks fine to me,” she said. “Suits you.”
“Oh thanks a bunch.” He pouted theatrically. “You can go off people, you know.”
“I didn’t mean it,” she said sincerely. “Would you please read the cards for me?”
“I can do a crystal ball reading if you’d like,” he offered, hoping that she’d change her mind, but before he knew what was happening, there were the cards, on the table before the rather startled-looking girl.
“Weren’t those…” she asked worriedly, pointing towards the stand on the other side of the room.
He looked before him at the cards, neatly piled and sitting in readiness for the girl to cut them.
“They can’t have been,” he said quickly. “Anyway, if you’d like to cut them… er… what is your name?”
“Elizabeth,” she replied.
“Well, Elizabeth. I don’t suppose one more go will hurt,” he said, feeling her eyes on him and hoping she didn’t take them off him again. “If you’d like to cut the cards.”
The tingling feeling was stronger, radiating out from his hands as he took up the cards and started laying them on the table.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“Yeah, like I said, I’m feeling a little strange.” He continued to place the cards on the table and when he’d finished, his vision was starting to blur, like he was looking at things through moving water.
“So what do you see?”
“Um,” he said, but he was having trouble focussing on anything. It must have shown on his face because the expression on Elizabeth’s face was one of concern.
He could feel his mouth moving and words coming out, but seemed powerless to stop it. Not only that, but he sat, elbows on the table, cards in his left hand, but unable to move anything–not even his eyes.
He tried hard to move–any part of his body–but for some reason, he was powerless. He seemed to sink into this… this… whatever it was and as he strained and strained to try and move something… anything, he could move nothing.
He started to panic, feeling as if things were moving around under his skin. First it was over his face then it spread. Things could be felt moving over his ribs, his arms, legs; then everywhere.
More and more he tried to fight it, but fight what?
Suddenly before him was an almost transparent apparition of a woman. Her nose was large and hooked with a large wart on one side. Her hair was a steely-grey colour, lank and lifeless and her eyes sparkled with an unearthly light.
“Don’t struggle, my pretty one,” she said.
Pretty? he thought.
“I must say, you’re not what I was expecting,” she said critically, eyeing him up and down. “I had expectations of someone, more… well… female. Oh well, I suppose you’ll have to do. You are very pretty though–even for a boy.”
Steve was aghast and had he been able to move, he probably would have given some sign that what the apparition had said, was not what he’d wanted to hear.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth had rushed up the stairs. Hopefully, she was off to get help. Whether they would be able to do anything was another matter, but at least he didn’t feel so much like he was on his own.
“W-w-w-what do you want from me?” he asked.
“Your body, boy,” she said, with a cackle.
“M-my b-body?” he stammered. “W-w-w-what could you possibly want with that?”
“Like I said, it’s not what I ideally would have chosen, but once it’s been polished a bit, I think it will do fine. You have a good mind, you’re really pretty and that will do nicely for me.”
“I’m not pretty!” he said through virtually gritted teeth.
Although she had told him not to struggle, he couldn’t help it, but no amount of straining had any effect whatsoever. It was bizarre.
Then it dawned on him. If she wanted his body, what would happen to him? “What about me?” he asked.
“What about you?”
“What happens to me while you’ve got my body?”
“Who cares?” she said, laughing a horrible maniacal laughter that sent shivers up and down Steve’s spine. “All I want is to take my rightful place upon this Earth; to finish what I started–um… what year is this?”
“2009,” Steve supplied.
“Really? Goodness me; how time flies when you’re in purgatory. Anyway, where was I?” she pondered, turning to face him with dramatic flair. “Oh yes… I want to finish what I started five hundred years ago.”
“What stopped you back then?”
“Zealous, puritanical nit-wits,” she said, with a lofty expression. “Thought I was a witch.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Might be,” she said, pouting slightly and thrusting her nose in the air. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. I’ve been stuck in that pack of cards for nearly half a millennia. Purgatory. You’ve no idea how stuffy those cards can be. The lack of decent conversation was… well, anyway––”
“So why me?”
“You’re here–simple as that. No-one else has touched the cards. Well, there was one, but he was older than dirt. Didn’t want him.” She shuddered, which made her already insubstantial image waver and shimmer.
“So… let me get this straight. You want my body so that you can carry on with whatever weirdness you were doing five hundred years ago?”
“Weirdness? I haven’t heard it called that before, but that does about sum it up, yes.”
“And the polishing?”
“Ah, yes, well it is perhaps a little more complicated than just polishing.”
“How so?”
“I need to change you into a woman.”
“You’re g-g-going t-t-to what?” he shrieked, which was an odd sensation, under the circumstances.
“I’m going to have to change you into a girl,” she explained. “I really don’t think male would look at all good on me and I really like the idea of being what you now call a teenage girl once again.”
She was so off-hand about the process and made it sound as easy as making a cup of tea, but he was sure it wasn’t that simple. Even if it was, he wasn’t ready for that kind of change. He redoubled his efforts to get away, but whatever she’d done to him meant that his brain was no longer connected to his body and no matter how hard he tried, he got nowhere.
“You probably felt the first stage of the transformation a few moments ago. Anyway, if you don’t mind, the witching hour approaches and I have to concentrate. Quiet please.”
His mind raced as the witch began chanting, gesticulating, with her voice rising and falling, speeding up and slowing down. As non-corporeal as she may have been, it didn’t mean that she was any less capable of casting spells.
As she chanted, he could feel things happening, things he couldn’t explain, but they weren’t pleasant.
“Stop! You don’t want me. I’m a boy. You’ll have to go through all that trouble of changing me only to find I’ll be no good.” he shouted, trying hard to distract her, hoping that by making things awkward, she would perhaps turn her attention to someone else.
“I said quiet!” she snarled, angrily and with a flick of just one finger, Steve found himself unable to utter anything at all. “Now I’m going to have to start all over again.”
She restarted the chanting and quickly Steve’s body began making all sorts of cracking noises at the same time as his throat started to contract. He tried to reach up with his hands to his neck, but couldn’t move.
Then the pain struck as his ribs cracked, sounding more like someone striking a glockenspiel, which forced the air from his lungs in one big “whoosh” and his eyes ran rivers of tears. Inside he was screaming, yet outside, he was still sitting at the table, his elbows resting and in his left hand, the cards rested.
He remained completely unaware of what was happening outside his body as inside, the pain was growing second by second as the next thing to change was his hips as they began spreading.
His head started to swim, the pain in his hands and feet as the minute bones within both pairs, began shrinking was excruciating. As he sobbed his heart out, trying to compartmentalise the feelings he could not have been prepared for the final onslaught.
His testes rose, pulled up inside his body, constricting and making him feel as though they had been hit by something hard, while his penis felt as though it was being turned inside out across course-grit glass paper as it reformed. It was the last thing he remembered before he passed out.
The witch looked on, cackling and clapping her hands together as Steve’s once male form changed to a decidedly curvaceous feminine one. His hair was longer, passing his shoulders and not stopping until it reached the small of his back. His general frame although not big to start with, was noticeably smaller and the clothes he had been wearing swamped him.
“We can’t have that,” she said, and with some more concentration, chanting and much waving of hands, his male clothing disappeared, to be replaced by a bright yellow cotton sleeveless summer dress, his boxers by panties and his shoes by sandals with a moderate heel.
Once again, the witch jumped up and down, clapping her hands together and cackling away, pleased as punch. “Elizabeth Knotts, you’ve really outdone yourself this time,” she cooed. “That should be enough.”
She gave a negligent flick of her gnarly fingers and Steve’s body slouched forward, the cards sliding gently from his hand, spilling on to the table.
As Steve lost contact with the cards, the witch lost contact and any control she had over him. She gasped, her eyes went wide and her hands flew to her insubstantial mouth. “Oh no–”
It had always ended this way–or worse.
The old man she had told the boy about had not been discarded, but had died in her attempt to transform him. There had been many others down the line who had suffered at her attempts.
She sat down and looked at the very pretty girl who had not moments before been a boy and now was about as far out of her reach as all the others. Insubstantial tears trickled down her non-corporeal face as she looked at yet another failed attempt.
“Auntie Lynne. Have you seen Ellen?”
“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”
“Well you are,” she replied nonchalantly. “What else should I call you?”
“Just plain Lynne would be nice. Anyway, she went home to get some bits and pieces. She won’t be long. Why?”
“It’s Steve. I think there’s something wrong.”
She explained what she’d seen.
Lynne frowned. “You been at those space cakes again?”
“Not at all, no,” Elizabeth assured her. “It really happened. Then he went all glassy-eyed and just sat there–he didn’t even blink. There’s something wrong, Auntie Lynne, I’m sure of it. Can you come and have a look? Please?”
Lynne didn’t answer because someone caught her eye; “Jim, so nice to see you,” she said, talking straight across Elizabeth as one of her guests walked by. She turned back to her niece. “I’ll be with you in a moment, sweetheart.”
Elizabeth grimaced. She hated being called sweetheart more than anything and her aunt insisted on calling her that. As she watched Lynne walk away with James, she wondered why it was that no matter what was happening, what adults had to do was always so much more important than anything she needed them to hear.
Disgusted by this, she stalked off towards the basement stairs.
“W-w-what?” she muttered, stretching her arms, wincing as her elbows and shoulders cracked and clicked. She looked around her, frowning. “Where am I?”
Ghostly cackles with images of witches and strange-looking cards filled her mind. The mere thought of them made her shudder…
And then she saw the cards on the table.
“No,” she said, her lower lip trembling. “It can’t be.”
She gazed around the room, seeing nobody and yet she had an uncanny feeling that she was being watched. By whom, she didn’t know, but she could feel the eyes staring at her.
She rose on shaky legs, grimacing because her whole body ached. “What have I been doing?” she asked herself.
Taking the stairs slowly and holding tightly to the banister rail, she made her way to the upper floor, wondering what all the noise was as she approached.
All those people, she thought. Where the hell am I and what in the world’s going on?
She decided to get out, striding as boldly as she could through the doorway at the top of the stairs and, trying not to catch anyone’s attention, stepped out.
So far so good, she thought and was just about to start across the room when someone bumped into her.
Another girl caught her shoulder on her way past, heading towards the stairs.
Turning to face Steve, she said, “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
They stood for a few moments just inches apart. Steve thought she was very pretty and dressed as Little Red Riding Hood she looked so cute.
Staring into her eyes, a whole bundle of thoughts raced through her mind, the most prevalent being how weird it was being a girl and actually thinking the other was pretty and attractive, which stirred feelings in her of which she wasn’t quite sure.
But I’m a girl too, she thought.
There was definitely something there though–something between them. Whether it was just friendship that sadly she couldn’t remember, or whether it was more than that, she didn’t know, but it was almost palpable.
Lynne arrived, breaking their unspoken communication.
“Who’sh your friend, shweetheart?” she asked of Little Red Riding Hood.
As soon as Steve saw Lynne, she fled, running full tilt towards the door, slamming into it, fumbling with the locks and catches. Finally, she wrenched it open and ran out into the cold night air, not even stopping to close the door behind her.
“Wash it shomething I shaid?” asked Lynne, taking another generous slug of her drink, giggling after burping, as she disappeared off into the guests, her body swaying with the beat of the music.
Blindly, she ran across a road and narrowly missed landing spread-eagled across the bonnet of the family saloon car that was approaching the junction. The car had two children in the back that appeared to be sleeping, while the driver–a woman–scowled, shaking her fist.
“Are you mad?” she yelled. “Watch where you’re going; I’ve got children–”
Steve heard no more and raising her hand, while smiling a thin smile of apology, she pushed herself away from the car, gasping for air and with a heaving chest, she ran round the front, ignoring the blast from the car’s horn as, once again, she glanced over her shoulder.
Upon reaching the next lamppost, she stopped; wheezing and trying to get her breath back as she looked up the street from whence she came, to check if she was, as she felt, being followed.
No-one was there.
Her senses however, told her otherwise. She could feel the stranger’s presence, stalking her as she reached down and slipped off her sandals, wincing as her feet touched the near freezing cold of the paving slabs beneath. Looking around her for any sign of movement, she knew someone was there, someone who seemed to have melted into the shadows, never far behind. She knew because she could feel their eyes boring into her and her brain screamed for her to get as far from them as possible.
She was certain that the woman at the house was not the same woman as she had seen in the images that kept playing in her mind–the weird and evil cackle, the warty nose and the lank, lacklustre hair. The shock of seeing that weird woman, just scared her–scared her enough to make her run, even though she didn’t know where she was running to.
The girl though–Little Red Riding Hood–was a different proposition. Steve knew they’d met before; it was just the when of it that eluded her. She was nice, pretty and there was something about her that made Steve wish they would meet again; to get to know one another better, perhaps even becoming friends, hopefully more.
The fact that the two of them were girls seemed wrong to Steve. Was it the thought of wanting to become romantically involved with another girl? He didn’t know, but he was sure that for whatever reason, that wasn’t an issue.
Were they already friends then? If that were the case, then surely the girl would have said more than she did–wouldn’t she?
The situation was all so confusing to Steve. Not only did she not know anything about Red–aside from the feeling that they had met previously, but she didn’t even know anything about herself.
She tried to remember birthdays, Christmas, school or a holiday perhaps, but nothing came to her and as she thought about it, the feeling that she was being watched and from nearby, reared its ugly head again.
It was time to press on.
Steve was missing; the cards lay just as they had when he’d begun reading them for her, save the discarded pack that was beside the spread, but of him there was no sign.
She checked upstairs, but could find no trace.
“What wash up with that friend of yoursh?” asked Lynne, the alcohol beginning to have an effect on her speech, which was decidedly slurred.
“Which friend?” she asked. Suddenly it dawned on her. “No way!” she exclaimed, her eyes going wide with disbelief. “So that’s why he didn’t want to read them!”
“What was that, schweetheart?”
“Nothing. I’ve gotta go out,” she said and with that, ran to the front door.
“Jusht a minute, young lady; it’sh after midnight–”
Ignoring her aunt–who was truthfully too addled by drink to have an attention span of anything more than a goldfish–she opened the door and poked her head out looking down the street, but there was no sign of the mystery girl.
She looked back inside to see that Lynne had–as she thought, been distracted by the drinks and the guests. She quietly went across the room and upstairs to her bedroom, where she picked up a quilted jacket, stashed it under her cloak and made her way back downstairs.
Her aunt was helping Steve’s mum in with two large bags when she reached the bottom of the stairs and, waiting the few seconds for them to get to the kitchen, went to the door and closed it quietly behind her as she left.
Making her way down the street, the cold air and quiet of the night began to make her wonder if the girl could possibly have been Steve and if so, how?
She stopped suddenly.
It was after midnight and she–a fifteen year-old–was out on her own, chasing after someone she didn’t know with the wild idea that by some means he’d been turned into a girl; how ridiculous was that?
There was something about the girl she’d bumped into at the top of the stairs though–something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but rang bells of recognition in her head.
“What the hell,” she muttered and carried on down the road towards town.
She slowed, hoping that those around her would stop her feeling so exposed, but it wasn’t to be. The feeling that eyes were boring into the back of her head did not diminish and despite the fact that her feet and thighs ached, her chest burned and more to the point, she had no idea where she needed to go, she pressed on.
Shortly afterwards, she arrived at the town square–a pedestrian-only precinct–which at one time had been the main street. Its cobbled roadway though, no longer played host to cars–aside from early morning deliveries–just the passing of hundreds of thousands of feet, eager to spend money in the many shops and cafés that lined both sides.
Large, cast stone circular beds planted with shrubs and small ornamental trees, had been placed at regular intervals, surrounded by ornate seats cast in the same material, giving the street a somewhat continental atmosphere. She stopped at the first one she came to and was about to sit and rest her feet, when her own reflection in a shop window caught her attention.
She moved closer, the image in the window becoming larger and clearer with each step. She looked quizzically, touching her face with her fingertips, drawing them over the smooth pale skin, along the jaw and down the sides of her neck.
Her hands trembled as she looked at the girl in the window looking back at her. Cocking her head to one side and turning slightly to capture her image from different angles, she smiled and smoothed down her dress, watching as the material accentuated the curves of her lithe young body as it tightened; her breasts jutting firmly from her chest, her curvaceous torso tapering down to her waist and then flairing across her hips.
She checked her hair as it flowed over her shoulders and down her back and as she did, she saw someone–a man perhaps–in the reflection, who appeared to be looking over her shoulder. She turned quickly to see that there was no-one there. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the feeling of being watched–stalked even, was as strong as ever.
Now that she was not exerting herself, she was cold and getting progressively colder as the temperature of her body dropped, yet she was still in a cold sweat. She may not have been running, but she was scared — very scared.
Sitting on one of the cast stone seats, she went over the events that had led her there. The feeling of being watched or followed had not gone away and seeing that person looking over her shoulder in the shop window had proved to her that she wasn’t going mad; that what was running around in her head had really happened.
“Are you alright?” someone close by asked.
Steve spun on the spot, turning towards the voice. It was Little Red Riding Hood. She nodded.
“You must be frozen… here.” Red took out a jacket from under her cloak, which she placed around Steve’s shoulders. “I’m Elizabeth, we um, bumped into each other at the party. Is that better?”
Steve nodded again, feeling the warmth returning to the top half of her body. Obviously she had been colder than she thought.
“I think we’d better go back, don’t you?”
Steve shook her head vigorously.
“Why?” Elizabeth asked.
“I saw her there,” Steve replied nervously. “The witch.”
“That was just Lynne. She was the one who organised the party. I’m pretty certain she wouldn’t have done anything to you. She might breathe on you,” she said, wrinkling her nose and flapping her hand in front of it. “But I doubt it would kill you.”
“Not her… I saw a witch…” Steve tailed off and looked down at her feet, realising that whilst she may remember having seen one, she couldn’t remember what it meant. “It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”
Elizabeth smiled, gently touching her hand. “Don’t worry about it,” she said equally gently, which made Steve feel a lot better.
“Well, now you know who I am, what’s your name?”
Steve didn’t know.
She didn’t know her own name.
The shock of not knowing where she was was one thing, but finding out she didn’t even know her own name took this to a whole other level. “I-I-I don’t know,” she sniffed, clearly scared of the fact.
“I can’t just call you ‘oy!’ or ‘hey you now can I? Is there a name perhaps that you would like to be called, just until we find out who you really are?”
Steve thought about it, but nothing immediately came to mind. “It’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“You must have a name you wished you were called,” she said. “I know I do.”
“You? What’s wrong with Elizabeth?”
“Nothing I suppose. It’s better than some of those lame names people are calling their kids nowadays.”
“So what name did you want?”
“Promise you won’t laugh?” she said.
“Cross my heart.”
“Alexandra. I thought it had an air of mystery about it.”
Steve smiled. “That’s a nice name, but I think Elizabeth’s better.”
“Come on then. What about you?” she asked, excitement showing on her face. “Ooh, ooh, I know: Tabitha.”
“I am not a Tabitha–makes me sound like somebody out of Bewitched. ”
“But it’s such a nice name,” she said. “So come on, your turn.”
Steve wasn’t aware that they were taking turns, but she liked the game. It was fun and Elizabeth was a fun person to play it with.
“Chloe,” she said at last.
“With all the names you could have chosen, that’s the best you can come up with?” she asked, watching Steve closely.
“What’s wrong with Chloe?”
“Nothing–I suppose,” Elizabeth replied. “But I still think Tabitha’s better.”
“No way.”
“Yes, way,” she responded. “But if you want Chloe, then Chloe it is.” She looked into Steve’s eyes, taking her hands and holding them. “Hello, Chloe. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
There was one of those moments where time seemed to stand still. Chloe, who until then had no name that she could remember, suddenly felt as though a bell had rung in her head. It was a nice name and although the situation wasn’t exactly a Christening as such, she now felt like she belonged to the world.
The two girls sat on the cold stone bench looking at one another–a look that made Chloe’s heart race just a little faster. She didn’t know about how Elizabeth felt but the situation was fast becoming one of those where her natural instincts were starting to take over and her heart was telling her to kiss the girl.
Her head however, was telling her not to.
“I think I’d best take you home. At least it’s warm there. I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing my tits off here.”
Chloe felt a lot better. She was still scared about the fact that other than her new name–which sent tingles of excitement up and down her spine when she heard Elizabeth say it out loud–she knew nothing about herself. The memory of Bewitched was the first thing that had come from a time prior to that very evening. Other than that, she could remember nothing. Perhaps it would return.
There was also the sensation of being followed, watched, which could well have been Elizabeth following to catch up, but what of the man–if that’s what it was, who appeared over her shoulder in her reflection? Perhaps he was a figment of her overactive imagination and given the circumstances, that didn’t seem out of the question. Despite those two things and the fact that she didn’t know where she was going to go after they got back to Elizabeth’s house she couldn’t help but laugh.
She slipped on her sandals, put the jacket on properly then the two of them turned back the way they came. The feeling of being watched was still there, but she felt safe–safer than she had all evening.
Everything had happened so quickly. Steve had come into her aunt’s house and all he’d had to do was walk across to the table where she and Lynne had put all the food and she felt it: an instant attraction.
The fact that he tried to stuff everything on the table into his mouth at once, only made him more endearing and made her laugh, but no sooner had they met, he was dragged off to play fortune teller downstairs while she was roped into greeting the guests and perhaps more embarrassingly, being cloakroom monitor.
That was it until later when he started doing the reading for her. She didn’t understand why he’d been so reticent to read for her, but had pressed him into it anyway–and what was that thing with the cards? He had shrugged it off, but she knew he’d put them on the stand on the other side of the room.
What if that had really happened? What if they really had just appeared in his hand?
A little way through the reading and suddenly he went all strange. She told Lynne about it and the next thing she knew, Steve had disappeared and Chloe had appeared. She knew it was Halloween, but this was strange even for that.
Now she faced something even more bizarre: whether Chloe was Steve or not, she was attracted to her–and not in just a friendly way either, far from it. When she greeted the new Chloe and stared into those beautiful brown eyes, it was all she could do not to glue her lips to hers. She had never believed in love at first sight.
“Love takes time,” her mother had told her. “You have to work on it.”
Yet she’d heard stories about people who meet and from that point on are together forever. What if this was one of those times?
She felt something with Steve that she’d never experienced before–a kind of need to be near him–with him and that transposed to Chloe. She just hoped that Steve and Chloe were the same person otherwise she was in big trouble. She was already having a hard enough time getting her head round the prospect of getting all smoochy with another girl. To find out that she would be vying for the attentions of both of them would be such a complete headache.
“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Chloe.
Elizabeth turned and looked at her companion. That honest face; those eyes–eyes she could happily drown in and that hair–swaying gently behind her as they walked. What was not to like–to love? “Nothing–really. It’s just been a really weird night.”
“I know what you mean,” Chloe replied with a smile.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–” she began. If it had been difficult for anyone, it had to be Chloe. First she was Steve with a life ahead of him, dreams, aspirations and a past and then suddenly, it was all gone. That wasn’t to say that Chloe didn’t have a future, but it was hard to tell at this point. She certainly didn’t appear to have a past.
“It’s alright, Elizabeth, honestly. I really haven’t had time to think about things. I’m here now and you’re making it really easy for me. You don’t even know me and yet you’ve put yourself out for me. I couldn’t have hoped for better.”
Elizabeth grabbed Chloe’s arm and stopped her, tears forming in her eyes and without any hesitation, threw her arms round her new friend, hugging her tightly. The closeness she felt at that time was the best she’d ever felt and right there, she felt that she wasn’t so alone.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The two girls continued up the road arriving at Lynne’s house shortly afterwards.
The lights were still on and they stood at the gate at the bottom of the short path to the front door for a few moments.
“You don’t have to do this,” said Chloe, noticing the hesitation on Elizabeth’s face.
“If not here, then where?” she asked. “Look, you need somewhere to be until we can get all this sorted out and here’s as good a place as any. You’ll freeze to death out here or worse and I can’t bear the thought of that. No. You’ll stay here tonight and that’s that.”
They opened the gate and started up the path.
“Finally,” said a man’s voice.
They turned round. Before them was a man who looked quite old, with dark hair that fell to just above his shoulders. His face was lined and his deep-set eyes seemed to have a hard edge to them.
“I see you have chosen. Still trying to recapture that youth, I see.” His expression was one of amusement.
“Who are you?” asked Elizabeth.
“My apologies, ladies. My name is Edward. Edward Ellsworth.” He inclined his head with a thin smile that didn’t seem at all pleasant. “But then you knew that, didn’t you Elizabeth?” He was looking at Chloe when he said that.
“Er, she’s Elizabeth, Mr. Ellsworth,” she said, pointing at her friend.
“Don’t toy with me, witch. I can see through the disguise. Is she another unfortunate victim of your lust for revenge?”
“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Mr Ellsworth.”
The man looked at Chloe and then at Elizabeth. “You really don’t, do you?” he asked.
“No and I think it’s time you left, before I call for help,” Elizabeth stated, leaving no room for debate.
The front door opened and three of the guests almost fell out laughing.
“Hey, It’s ‘lizh-beff. Hello, ‘lizh-beff. We’re going home now,” one of them said, or at least, tried. “Who are you?”
“Never mind,” said Edward, testily. “I will return, mark my words.”
“Who was that, ‘lizh-beff?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about it, he’s gone now.”
Inside, the feeling of warmth enveloped Chloe. Her tense body relaxed and whilst there were still many people drinking, eating and generally enjoying themselves, the two of them were able to slip in without being spotted or subjected to inane questions.
“Come upstairs,” Elizabeth whispered. “It’ll be quieter there.”
The two girls tip-toed upstairs and into Elizabeth’s bedroom, closing the door quietly behind them.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Chloe said.
Elizabeth shrugged, taking her cloak off and flopping on the bed. “I couldn’t let you stay out with nowhere to go, could I?”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Chloe chuckled, her tongue firmly planted in her cheek.
“Of Course,” Elizabeth said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “As if.” She glanced up at Chloe, who was trying to suppress a giggle, but failed and both girls laughed.
“Seriously though,” said Chloe, perching on the very edge of the bed. “What do I do now? I mean, I don’t know where I came from and I don’t know where I need to go to.” Tears started to roll down her face. “I feel so alone right now.”
“You’ve got me,” said Elizabeth comfortingly, putting her arm about Chloe’s shoulders and pulling her close. “It’ll be alright, you’ll see.”
With that Chloe broke down and the tears turned to full-on sobbing as she wrapped her arms around Elizabeth and cried like a baby.
“I-I’m sorry,” Chloe said, breaking the hug. “I shouldn’t have–”
“Shouldn’t have what?” Elizabeth asked; a stern tone to her voice. “If I were in your position, I’d feel the same.”
“Really?” Chloe sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of a finger.
“Totally. Now I think it’s time we got some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll have to try and figure out what to do about this mess.” She paused, looking a little sheepish. “That is if you don’t mind sharing the bed.”
“Er…” said Chloe, looking away and hoping she wasn’t blushing.
“Look. It’s not that I’m asking you to come to bed like ‘come to bed’. It’s just that…” she added hastily, twiddling her fingers and trying not to look at Chloe.
There was an uncomfortable silence between them as Chloe for one certainly didn’t want Elizabeth to know that she would willingly jump into bed with her; to be close to her, though truthfully apart from the kissing bit, she had no idea where to go after that, and right there and then, she was probably too tired to keep her eyes open anyway. More to the point, she felt safe with Elizabeth and would do nothing to jeopardise that.
Elizabeth went to a drawer and took out two long t-shirts, clutching them to her chest and eventually spoke. “So what do you say?”
“Alright, I mean, like you said, it’s not like we’re going to be doing anything, is it?”
“No…” replied Elizabeth, her eyes slightly downcast. “Of course not.” She threw the t-shirt to Chloe. “Here, put this on.”
Was there a note of disappointment in Elizabeth’s voice? Chloe wondered as she settled on her side of the bed, ensuring that no part of her was touching any part of Elizabeth. It seemed that Elizabeth was as far from her as it was possible to get–given the bed’s size. Was that by choice or was it that she was acting, like her, out of fear?
However, it was more difficult to keep out of Elizabeth’s way than Chloe realised. Elizabeth was asleep in moments, her soft, gentle breathing rhythms said so and as she slept, she spread out, getting closer and closer to Chloe.
Chloe so desperately wanted to be as close as humanly possible to her friend; feel her warmth, her smooth skin against her own, but it could not be, but she was running out of room to escape–without getting out of bed altogether that was.
She moved across as far as she could, clinging to the edge of the bed, clutching the pillow and straining to keep away from Elizabeth, but tiredness took hold and soon, she too was dead to the world.
She found herself in a place where despite a fire roaring in the grate, the room was still cold. She went to the window and watched for a moment. A long line of torches, emitting a ruddy glow, lit up the tree-lined backdrop of the narrow track with a kind of surreal light as it undulated snake-like, moving up the hill towards her house.
“So it’s really happening?”
“I warned thee, witch,” said a man deep within the shadows of the room. “Thou hast brought this upon thyself with thy satanic rituals and thine evil practices. Thou should’st know that I have been praying for thy salvation yet, thou hast confounded mine attempts with thy continual and blatant disregard for all that is holy.”
She turned, her face hardened by the man’s accusations.
“Holy? How can’st thou think that I have been unholy? I have done nothing wrong. I use herbs and roots to make poultices; make decoctions and infusions from leaves and berries to cure ills. How is that unholy?”
“Thou knowest to that which I do refer,” he spat. “Thy poultices and so-called decoctions, infusions and other ‘remedies’ are naught but a smoke-screen to hide behind. I know what ist really occurring hereabouts.”
“And?”
“I intend to see that thee payest fully for thine indiscretions.”
The woman took a deep breath and sat down, the sound of footfalls outside becoming clearer. The folk with their torches could only have been minutes from her door now. “This is not about that, is it?” she asked.
“Thou art perceptive, witch,” the man said with a mocking laugh. “I cannot take the risk of thee turning people against me–and thou wouldst, were thou to be given the opportunity. Therefore, I need to ensure that thou art no longer a threat to my plans.”
“I shall not forget this, Edward Ellsworth. Thy confession disgusts me. Thou hast already given me the appearance of a hag–why else would I live alone on this lonely hilltop. However, whatever it is that thou hast done to me, I can not cease the help I have ever given others–more than I can say for thee. Thou seemest to be more interested in lining thine own pockets than putting thine abilities–thy gift, to good use.
“My gift–for it is a gift–is for everyone. It is a burden, of that there can be no doubt, but it is a responsibility I take most seriously. Yet thou art of a mind that I derive some evil pleasure from digging up certain roots or fungi in the dead of night so that the blacksmith’s horse can be cured of its canker, or that a woman in childbirth can be offered some meagre respite from the pain.”
“Most noble dear lady,” he said with heavy sarcasm, “But that is not how history will remember this I’m afraid.”
“Thou can not cheat history.”
“Can I not?” he asked, the mocking tone even more evident in his voice than hitherto. “I fear thou hast underestimated me, Elizabeth–as always. That is why I shall continue long after thou art nought but ashen waste at the base of a burned-out pyre.”
“Thou art truly evil, Ellsworth.”
“And thou art too kind, my lady.”
There was a knocking on the door.
“Elizabeth Knotts?” said the voice of a man. “Open up.”
The space that had not moments before, been occupied by Ellsworth was now vacant and taking another deep breath, Elizabeth stopped, picked a packet from the table and slipped it into the pocket of her pinafore. Straightening herself, she opened the stout wooden door.
Standing outside was Gilbert Morris, a good man whose family–especially his wife, had often asked for her assistance. She liked the Morris family and Gilbert didn’t look at all happy with the situation.
“I’m sorry, Beth,” he whispered. “But I have my orders.”
“It is not thy fault, dear Gilbert. Neither is it the fault of any of these goodly folk. I shall accompany thee to the village square.”
Gilbert looked astonished.
“Well, don’t just stand there with thy mouth open, catching flies. Lead on!”
“Of course, Miss Knotts.”
In the blink of an eye, they were at the square and Chloe found herself tied to a stout tree-trunk atop a large pile of tree limbs and kindling. It was clear that this was no trial. The outcome had already been decided and stood next to Gilbert was Edward Ellsworth, better known perhaps as the town’s mayor.
“Hast thee anything to say before I do mine duty and pass sentence upon thee, witch?” he asked.
“Only that thou shouldst remember that I am not at fault here and soon enough all the good people of this town shall know the extent to which their mayor will go to assure himself of his goal.”
Edward laughed. “They do not hear thee, witch. I have seen to that. They shall remember only that thy semblance has been taken from them and thy vileness has been forever removed from their sight.”
“I feel sorry for thee, Edward. Thou hast stooped so low as now to require looking skywards to see so lowly a creature as an ant. Thy deception will come to light–I shall see to that. Thou art a mark-ed man, Edward Ellsworth, and mine only prayer is that I shall not have to wait too long before this travesty of justice shalt be undone.”
Edward almost bent double with laughter. “Thee?” he demanded. “Canst thee not see that thou art in no position to attain any such thing. Thou art dead, witch. Dead to all of these people and any others whose misfortune it has been to know thee, like thee or even love thee.”
“That is what this is really about is it not?” she asked. “Thine advances towards me and my refusal to–”
“Do not flatter thyself, hag,” he replied, angrily.
“Alright, Ellsworth, thou hadst better get on with this farcical display and don’t take all day about it.”
Suddenly to Chloe’s surprise, hundreds of people seemed to file past, throwing their burning torches into the pile of wood beneath her, the flames licking ever higher as the timber pile caught light and the heat started to rise; the smell of burning strong in her nostrils.
She panicked, seeing the red, yellow and orange of the flames, leaping, licking ever higher and the thick smoke that rose in twisting tendrils. A deafening scream pierced the crackling of the burning lumber, which seemed to come from her own lips and for a moment everything went black.
When shapes and forms started to reappear, it was like looking at something from Alice in Wonderland. Cards seemed to be fluttering around her like moths, sometimes flying directly at her. The incessant flap, flap, flap of their ‘wings’ near to and sometimes often touching her face was terrifying as she flailed her arms about to try and beat them back.
“OW!” she cried, sitting up to find Chloe waving her arms about like she was drowning or something.
“Hey, hey, hey,” she said, trying to catch hold of the girl’s arms and quieten her down.
Eventually, having taken more blows to the shoulders and arms, Elizabeth got Chloe under control and pulled her to her, spooning in and wrapping her free arm around her protectively.
“Wh–?” Chloe muttered opening her eyes.
“You were having a nightmare,” Elizabeth whispered.
“It was the witch,” said Chloe, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “I know what happened–I think.”
“Well, you can tell me all about it later can’t you? In the meantime, go back to sleep. Nothing can hurt you now.”
Within seconds, Chloe’s slow steady breathing told Elizabeth that the girl was asleep. She kept hold and although it was meant to be sisterly, the smell of Chloe’s hair, her closeness, made it difficult for Elizabeth not to think about nuzzling into her neck, stealing a kiss or dreaming of something she wasn’t sure could ever be.
They were still locked together sometime later when a knock on the door woke Elizabeth.
“You awake?” said Lynne from the other side and without waiting for a response, she opened the door.
“What in God’s name–?” she exclaimed, nearly exploding on the spot.
“It’s alright Auntie Lynne,” she said with exaggerated patience and particular emphasis on her name and title. “Nothing happened. Chloe just stayed here because she couldn’t get home last night.”
Lynne’s face was a picture of surprise and disgust. “You should have asked first.”
“What? With you in the state you were in last night? I’d have had more luck talking to mum.”
“How dare you talk about your mum like that.”
“What?” Elizabeth demanded angrily.
“You know very well what I mean,” Lynne said, her face red with anger. “Now both of you–get your arses downstairs–this instant.” The door slammed shut as Elizabeth’s irate aunt stormed off down the stairs; her footsteps sounding like an entire football team in lead boots.
Elizabeth lent Chloe some clothes. “There’s no way you can wear in any of that stuff you had on last night. You’ll freeze,” she’d said and found her a bra, panties, socks, some jeans, sweatshirt and a pair of boots.
“This is all my fault,” Chloe said as she pulled on the boots–red Kickers with a white sole, which went well with the jeans and sweatshirt. “I shouldn’t have stayed.”
“I’m glad you did,” said Elizabeth, pulling on a pair of fleece-lined suede boots that went over the outside of her jeans.
Chloe had watched surreptitiously as Elizabeth scooped herself into those skin-tight jeans, her heart in danger of beating so loudly, she had to look away.
“Auntie Lynne has been like that ever since…” she paused and Chloe looked up to see her friend looking decidedly melancholy. “Anyway, it makes a change to have someone else here. Kind of deflects the crap and certainly makes things easier.”
“What did you mean when you said you’d have more luck talking to mum?”
“She’s dead,” Elizabeth said simply, her face filled with sadness.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry. I–”
“No sweat. It’s not like I haven’t got used to it.” Elizabeth stood up and smoothed herself down, twirling on the spot. “How do I look?”
“Good enough to eat,” Chloe responded, then realising what she’d said, she added, “You’ll have the boys flocking round you.”
“You’d better believe it!” Elizabeth responded, flashing Chloe a wide, toothy grin.
Chloe Smiled back, though in her heart she was disappointed. Of course she wasn’t expecting undying love in response, but she was hoping for something of a lifeline in that last remark.
Was she kidding herself though?
She didn’t think so. The feeling of Elizabeth’s hot breath on her neck as she dozed off earlier, the feeling of her actually getting closer, pulling her tighter and almost purring–or was that just wishful thinking?
Definitely not.
“Good morning, Ellen,” Elizabeth said pointedly ignoring her aunt.
“Good morning, Elizabeth. You don’t know what happened to Steve do you? I think you were the last person to see him last night, I thought you might know. I ’phoned home last thing last night and again this morning, but I got no reply either time.”
“I haven’t seen him since he did that thing with the cards. He didn’t look very well and I asked Auntie Lynne to look in on him, but I think she got distracted.”
“I don’t remember that, sweetheart,” she said, continuing to bustle about the kitchen.
“Ooh!” Ellen growled. “When I get hold of him, I’m going to–”
“Anyway, aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” Lynne asked, cutting Ellen off mid-sentence. “I know the two of you are already very well acquainted, but this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on her.”
“Ellen, Auntie,” said Elizabeth. “This is Chloe. Chloe, this is my auntie, Lynne–you may remember her from the party last night–and this is her friend, Ellen. Steve is her son who was in the basement reading the Tarot cards. He was pretty good at it too.”
Ellen turned to face the girl. “Pleased to meet you–” she paused, looking carefully at the pretty, shapely young girl with the long mousy hair. “Have we met?” she asked. “You look very familiar.”
“Perhaps she knows Steve–a friend of his perhaps,” Lynne suggested as she filled the kettle.
Chloe sensed that Lynne’s interjection annoyed Elizabeth. She could almost see the “She can speak for herself,” behind her tight lips. “I’m sorry,” she said before Elizabeth could put her thoughts into words. “I don’t know him. I’m sure I’d have remembered.”
The four sat or stood in silence until Elizabeth spoke–getting the ball rolling, although Chloe was sure she wished she hadn’t.
“You wanted to see us, Auntie Lynne?”
“What? Yes I did. When I agreed to look after you in after your mother–”
“Jacqui,” Elizabeth corrected. “She was your sister as well as being my mother, remember?”
“Whatever. When she died and I started taking care of you, her absence didn’t mean you could come and go as you please. There are rules, you know and you should have asked before you had your friend to stay.”
“I would have done, but you were in no fit state to ask. After all, you can’t even remember my having asked you to look in on Steve or meeting Chloe, even though that was way before we came back.”
“Then that should have meant that you couldn’t have her stay over then, shouldn’t it?”
“What and leave her–a fifteen year-old girl–wandering the streets in the early hours of the morning? I don’t think so. I notice Ellen stayed though.”
“That’s my business, young lady, not yours and it’s my house. Just ask in future, alright?”
“Actually, Auntie, dear, it’s my house–unless you’ve forgotten.”
“I’ll tell you something, young lady,” said Ellen. “If you were my daughter–”
“Yes, well thankfully, I’m not, am I?” said Elizabeth, more annoyed at being told off in front of Ellen than being told off at all, but nevertheless, wondering why Ellen felt she had the right to say anything. “I’m not hers either. Now if you twohave quite finished, we’re going out.”
Chloe could see two things registered on Lynne’s face: The first was anger; probably at being spoken to that way and the second was hurt. This was definitely one of those times when she wished that she wasn’t there. Having to stand and watch while a dysfunctional family aired its dirty laundry in front of guests was something that didn’t sit well with her.
“Well don’t be late back. I want you here before six this evening–before I go out; is that clear?”
“No problem. Chloe will be coming back with me.”
“I don’t know…”
Elizabeth shot her aunt one of those looks.
“If her parents say it’s alright, then fine, do whatever you want–you normally do.”
They went upstairs and Elizabeth grabbed a coat giving Chloe the quilted jacket she’d worn the night before. “This one alright for you?” she asked.
“Fine. What exactly are we going to do?” asked Chloe as she followed Elizabeth down the stairs.
“Who cares,” she replied. “I’ve just got to get out of this place.”
They marched off down the road and Chloe had difficulty keeping up with the obviously stressed Elizabeth.
“Hey! Slow down,” Chloe called as her friend almost ran down the road. “What’s the hurry?”
“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth replied, stopping. “I get like that after Auntie dearest gets all holier than thou. Do you know she wouldn’t have anywhere to stay if it hadn’t been for my mum dying?”
“That’s harsh.”
“I know, but it’s the truth. Lynne’s always had a bit of a penchant for the booze and tends to get a little bit forgetful. She gets all into the moment and has been known to spend money she can’t afford.
“Her last landlord was going to throw her out and then mum… well, mum passed away and left her to look after me–on the understanding she was going to get her habit under control.”
“Has she? I’m assuming she hasn’t.”
“Well, she’s better than she was, but there are times when I have to dip into my money to eat.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Will you stop saying that? It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I feel that there ought to be something I could do, yet you’re the one doing for me.”
“So?”
“Haven’t you got enough on your plate already?”
“If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t have.”
There was no arguing with that.
They continued on their way, this time at a more leisurely pace. There were lots of things running through Chloe’s mind. The first was where she came from, but then that had been pretty much at the forefront since last night too.
Next was what she was going to do. There was only so long that she could stay with Elizabeth, whether the house was hers or not, especially if it meant sleeping in the same bed; that part of things was bound to get tiresome pretty quickly, for Lynne if no-one else.
Then something hit her.
Elizabeth had said that Steve had been in the basement reading the Tarot cards, which was exactly where she found herself.
An entire regiment of ‘what if’s’ went through her head.
Supposing the cards had changed him into her?
No. That was too daft to even contemplate otherwise there’d be thousands of things of all shapes and sizes that used to be people, hanging around and Tarot cards would be banned.
What sounded more sensible was that perhaps Steve and she had changed places and maybe, just maybe Steve was where she should have been. Then again, wouldn’t he have ’phoned home?
Perhaps he was in the same state as she was–no memory.
“Can Tarot cards cause weird things to happen?” she asked as they continued their way towards town. “I’ve heard Ouija boards can and Tarot cards are pretty much the same aren’t they?”
“Don’t know,” Elizabeth replied. “Why d’you ask?”
“Well, it’s just that, well, the first thing I remember from last night was waking up at a table covered in Tarot cards.”
Elizabeth stopped in her tracks. “Anything else?”
“No, not really. I know I was pretty freaked out though. In fact, now you mention it, I can’t remember anything from before that point–nothing at all. I can remember a witch, but I can’t remember why.”
“What brought this up?” Elizabeth asked.
“Well it’s just that you said that Steve was doing Tarot readings for people at the party and now he’s vanished. I wouldn’t have linked the two together, but that’s where I first found myself.”
“Let’s go and get some breakfast,” Elizabeth suggested.
They found a table in a small café and Elizabeth ordered them some bacon, eggs, grilled tomato, toast and tea.
“It’s a bit far-fetched don’t you think?”
“You may well be right, but it seemed a bit too much of a coincidence. First Steve gets ill and you go to get Lynne. You get back and instead of meeting him, you find me. Meanwhile, I doubt anyone saw me arrive or Steve leave. Now however odd or improbable this sounds, it’s making more sense than anything else I’ve considered.”
“What about your memories and stuff? Surely you would have remembered something about being Steve, wouldn’t you?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” she said, suddenly feeling all the momentum of what should have been a brilliant idea, slowing to a crawl.
Over Elizabeth’s shoulder, Chloe could see a mirror and in it, she saw the face of a man who had not only appeared out of the blue the night before outside Elizabeth’s house, but had appeared elsewhere.
He was staring at her, studying her and above all, making her feel most uncomfortable. More distressing was not being able to place him anywhere other than at the gate to Elizabeth’s house, even though she knew she had seen him since.
“What’s up?” Elizabeth asked, after a mouthful of egg and bacon.
“It’s that man from last night. I thought I just saw him again.”
“Where?” Elizabeth’s head snapped from one side to the other trying to see what Chloe had seen. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure alright. It’s just that I know I have seen him somewhere else, but I can’t remember where.”
“I’m sure it’ll come to you. It’s like dreams. Sometimes it takes something to happen during the day to remind you.”
“That’s it!” Chloe exclaimed.
“What’s it?”
“My dream,” she said jumping up and hugging Elizabeth across the table, narrowly missing getting egg on her jacket. “He was in my dream.”
Chloe followed Elizabeth out of the café, her head in a whirl. So much seemed to be going on in her mind that it was difficult to separate fact from fiction. The sudden appearance of Edward Ellsworth brought her head back into the present.
He stood very close and looked directly at Chloe, his lips curled into a snarl. “We meet again,” he said. “You’re looking well, Elizabeth.”
“What makes you think I’m Elizabeth?” she asked.
“It is not who I think you are, witch; it is who I know you to be.”
“Well, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. She’s Elizabeth,” Chloe retorted, poking her chin in Elizabeth’s direction. “I’m Chloe.”
Elizabeth pushed past her friend. “Look, mister,” she said, a note of irritability in her voice, “I don’t know or care who you are, but you’re starting to piss us off. Why don’t you just go stalk someone else, before I call the police?”
“It’s alright,” Chloe said, gently laying her hand on Elizabeth’s forearm. “I can handle this idiot.”
“So you are Elizabeth,” Ellsworth said.
“Not a chance, I’m Chloe–I told you that. You don’t scare me, even though that’s clearly what you’re trying to do. Arseholes like you should be locked up and they should throw away the key. I suggest you bugger off and leave Elizabeth and me alone.”
Edward looked annoyed–angry even and reached out, grabbing Chloe by the arm. “I would not be inclined to be quite so flippant, witch. I do not believe this subterfuge, I can feel who you are. I have defeated you more times than I care to remember. This time will be no exception,” he said between clenched teeth.
Chloe grimaced.
“I see from your reaction, you recall some of our previous meetings,” he said smugly.
“No, actually I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you are hurting me,” she said, struggling to get her arm free from Ellsworth’s vice-like grip. “Let go of me.”
She swung her free arm and slapped his chest. A mark appeared the same shape as her hand. Much of it twinkled in reds and gold’s, spreading outwards from the centre as thin wisps of smoke rose through the material. She wrenched her arm free of Ellsworth’s grasp and took two steps back, looking at Elizabeth, whose eyes were just as wide as Ellsworth’s.
Edward grabbed at his chest, terror showing on his face as he patted and rubbed at the ever-increasing smouldering patch. He started to panic as smoky, blackened particles fell around him; people looking on, some showing concern and others laughing as he danced around, patting himself whilst ‘ow-ing’ and taking sharp intakes of breath as he tried in vain to extinguish the garment.
“Youlied!” he exclaimed. “This isn’t over.” Then, turning on his heels, he disappeared into the tide of people, most of whom were now at least smiling at the exchange, probably unaware of what Chloe had actually done.
Chloe approached Elizabeth after Ellsworth had gone and was shocked as her friend shrank away from her. “What the hell did you do to him?” Elizabeth demanded, shock showing on her face.
“I don’t know, it just happened,” was all Chloe could say, shaking from the ordeal.
“I thought I knew you,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head and continuing to back away any time Chloe tried to get nearer to her.
“You do know me–as well, if not better than I know myself.”
“Obviously I don’t know you as well as I should then,” Elizabeth said, giving Chloe a look that showed her fear and disappointment.
She said nothing to Chloe after that. Her brow seemed permanently furrowed and she muttered frequently, though Chloe didn’t hear what she was muttering about. Each time Chloe tried asking, she would look away.
It hurt.
The one person Chloe felt she had any kind of bond with was in the process of rejecting her and she felt that at any time, Elizabeth could say goodbye and that would be that.
“Please say something,” Chloe pleaded. “You haven’t said anything for hours and all you have done is mutter and stomp about.”
“Are you surprised?” Elizabeth retorted.
Chloe could feel the tears well up; the lump in her throat getting bigger alerting her to the fact that sobs were just moments away. “we–ell, yes, I am.”
“I thought you were my friend,” Elizabeth said accusingly. “I shouldn’t be scared of my friends, but right now and after what you did, you scare me.”
“What have I done to you? For God’s sake, Elizabeth; I would never doanything to hurt you. That thing with Ellsworth? I don’t know how it happened–it just did.”
“What you did to him wasn’t normal, Chloe. That was freakish and knowing you did it without even thinking is just scary–so not right.”
“Elizabeth, please,” Chloe begged. “I would never hurt you.”
“How do you know that? You can’t know that. If you did that to him without knowing, what might you do to me?”
The tears began to flow as Elizabeth stormed off, leaving Chloe staring at her hand, the hand she’d hit Ellsworth with; a hand that appeared to be perfectly normal–nothing special, but how had she done that?
She wiped her eyes and ran after Elizabeth. “Wait up,” she shouted, but Elizabeth just kept going.
Chloe wove her way through the shoppers and eventually caught her friend.
“Get away from me, freak,” Elizabeth snarled and with that, she turned and left Chloe standing, watching as she disappeared into the crowds.
“Now what do I do?” Chloe asked herself, taking a seat on one of the ornate cast benches.
Her friend–her best friend, had turned out to be a freak–a scary freak at that. Whatever she’d done to that man wasn’t natural and if she’d done that to him, wasn’t it possible she could do something like that to her?
“Oh!” said Lynne, obviously surprised, but nevertheless pleased to see Elizabeth home. “I’m glad you’re back. I need to go out early.” She looked around. “Where’s Chloe? I thought she was coming back with you.”
“Don’t know and don’t care,” she replied, not sounding overly convincing as she flopped on the sofa with a deep sigh.
Lynn looked taken aback. “Oh. Well, er, whatever. I have to go out early and I haven’t had the time to clear up downstairs. Would you mind?”
“Off to the pub are you?” Elizabeth said with a sneer.
“Probably not actually, but if we do go, it won’t be until much later,” Lynne replied without rising to the taunt. “Ellen still hasn’t heard from Steve and both of us are worried. The police haven’t heard anything either so we’re going to the police station to give a detailed description. Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you?”
The fact that her aunt was focussed on something other than partying elicited a note of sympathy from Elizabeth. “No, nothing; I’m sorry.”
“It was worth asking. There’s some lasagne in the fridge that will take five minutes in the microwave. I’ll be going back home with Ellen. She’s beside herself with worry. Will you be alright here?”
“Yeah. I’m just going to watch some telly then I expect I’ll go to bed.”
Lynne stood over Elizabeth, looking down at her sad-looking niece. “What really happened today?” she asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa.
Elizabeth’s eyes started to brim immediately. “I don’t know that I can describe it exactly, but let’s put it this way, Chloe’s not the girl I thought she was.” She began to cry. “I thought we were friends. I thought she liked me.”
“I’m sure she does. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
“Well if she liked me, she wouldn’t scare me would she?”
“Sometimes people do things that scare us. Look at Steve. He’s never done anything like this before and he’s certainly scaring Ellen half to death. I’m not far behind.” Lynne looked at her niece and gently stroked the hair away from her face. “It doesn’t mean she loves him any less though–or he, her for that matter and I’m sure that there’s a very good reason why Chloe did what she did, but it doesn’t mean she likes you any less or would want to harm you, does it? Anyway,” Lynne whispered. “I expect it’ll all come out in the wash.”
Elizabeth sat up. “Do you really think so? She really frightened me down at the precinct. I should have just let it go, but I didn’t. I know she wouldn’t hurt me, but–”
“–Don’t worry about it. These things have a way of working themselves out.”
Lynne gave Elizabeth a peck on the forehead. “I’ll see you later. If not, tomorrow morning.”
“Good luck, Lynne,” she replied.
Lynne stopped dead in her tracks, spun round, probably looking for a sneer or a face being pulled, but there was nothing. “Thank you,” she said.
Elizabeth sat on the sofa. She hadn’t even made herself a cup of tea or coffee, got a soft drink, a sandwich, snacks or anything and after about and hour of flicking through the countless channels of pap on the television, she decided to go downstairs, simply to take her mind off possibly the biggest mistake she’d ever made.
“So this is where it all began,” she said, looking about her.
The walls were still bedecked with the little figures of witches on brooms, skulls with daft grins and other things that glowed in the dark or went bump in the night, while at the foot of the stairs, stood the table. The cards were still laid out in exactly the same place as they had been and as she began collecting them up, she felt a strange tingling sensation running up from her hands. Then, before her very eyes, up popped a woman who looked for all the world like a real witch. Her steely grey hair, long pointy chin and the wart on the end of her equally pointy nose just screamed ‘witch’. Strangest of all, was the fact that if she concentrated, Elizabeth could see straight through the figure of the woman, to the empty plant stand on the other side of the room.
“You’re not my pretty one are you?” the apparition said. “Not that you’re not pretty, you understand. In fact, you’re very pretty, just not the one I was expecting–or rather hoping for.”
Elizabeth dropped the cards as if they were hot coals and the image vanished.
She stood there for several moments, wringing her hands and not quite knowing what to do. Eventually, she picked the cards up and again, the tingling sensation returned.
“Please don’t do that, I don’t know how long I can keep this up.”
“Who are you?”
“Elizabeth Knotts–at you service,” the apparition said, bowing floridly.
This must be the Elizabeth, Edward Ellsworth thought Chloe was she thought. “Um, the boy who was here last night using these cards–do you know what happened to him?”
“The pretty one?” the apparition asked, nodding. “Oh yes. I changed him.”
“You did what? Why?”
“That is none of your concern,” said the apparition, with a hint of steel in her voice.
“It’s not?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “It most certainly is. My best friend just touched someone and they started smouldering. I thought he was going to burst into flames. What’s to say that she couldn’t have done something like that to me? Surely, that makes it my concern.”
“She did what?” asked the apparition, looking shrewdly at Elizabeth.
“She hit this bloke on the chest and it left a blackened handprint which smouldered and smoked. I thought he was going to catch fire.”
“Who was this man?” her face was thoughtful and her eyebrow raised.
“I don’t know. Some weirdo who thinks Chloe is me–or you.”
“Chloe?”
Yeah, well, she doesn’t know who she is–amnesia or something–and she thought that if she had a name, it would help her feel better about the situation; just till she gets her memory back.”
The apparition sat down heavily on a chair. “Oh dear.”
“What now?” asked Elizabeth, beginning to get a little exasperated by the apparition’s reluctance to be forthcoming with any information.
“Who chose that particular name?”
“She did. She liked it and although I didn’t think it fitted her, it’s starting to grow on me. She thought it was perfect.”
“It is,” the apparition said, her voice softening and her eyes taking on a faraway look. “It couldn’t be though.”
“Couldn’t be what? Come on, enough with all the cloak and dagger stuff. What’s going on?”
The apparition took a deep breath. “Chloe was my companion–before all this happened.” She shook her head and sighed. “Must be over five hundred years ago now. She was murdered right in front of me by a warlock who–”
“A what?”
“Warlock, girl. Now don’t interrupt, we’re running out of time and talking about half a millennium of history here.”
“Wow!”
“Precisely. Anyway, Chloe and I lived in a house left to me by my parents and together we were very happy until a man named Edward Ellsworth–”
“Ellsworth?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “That’s the name of the man Chloe burned earlier.”
“Hmm. I thought as much.” The apparition nodded. “He started making overtures towards me. At first I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I found him to be the epitome of what I didn’t like in a man–or anybody else really. I tried to let him down gently. It didn’t have the desired effect however, and the more I told him I wasn’t interested, the harder he tried.
“Then one day, I discovered that he had announced our engagement. I was livid–as you can well understand. I never agreed to marry him and went to confront him. All he did was take on the arrogant stance of someone with whom I would never spend a moment longer than was necessary. He said, ‘you will marry me Elizabeth Knotts and you’ll enjoy every moment of it.’”
“Sounds like a right arsehole,” said Elizabeth, remembering what Chloe had called him.
“I like that,” the apparition said, smiling. “In fact, it’s perfect.”
“I thought so too when Chloe told him that in town earlier.”
“Anyway, I told him that there was absolutely no chance that I would consent to marry a blackguard like him and he slapped me. ‘You will learn to be more respectful, woman,’ he said and I ran, got into my carriage and drove home as fast as I could, crying all the way.
“Chloe was there to meet me and once inside, I broke down again. Chloe did her best to comfort me and pretty soon we were in an embrace with Chloe telling me how I would not have to marry him and that it would all be alright, but whilst she and I embraced, he appeared, his face like thunder.
“We stared in fright as he appeared in the doorway, a tower of rage. ‘Get away from her,’ he bellowed, snatching Chloe from me and dashing her to the floor. She cried out as she landed, which just seemed to anger him further. He raised his hand, sending a bolt of what looked like lightning across the room, hitting poor Chloe in the chest. I ran to her and cradled her in my arms, whispering ‘I love you, I love you,’ but it made no difference. My Chloe was dead.”
“Blimey!” Elizabeth gasped. “Couldn’t you zap him back?”
“I didn’t know how to back then, but even if I could have, I was stricken with grief and not thinking clearly. It was the first time I had admitted to anyone, least of all myself that she was the person I loved and just when it was too late, it stared me in the face; I had accepted it, but she was dead. It was too late.
“He just laughed. ‘That should make it easier now, shouldn’t it? Marry me and I can make all of this go away.’ Without thinking, I screamed ‘NEVER!’ and ran at him, scratching at his face, but instead of backing off as I’d hoped he would, he just got more angry, throwing me to the ground on top of my beloved, raising his hand again and engulfing me in a kind of fog.
“When the fog had gone, he laughed out loud. ‘If I can’t have you, then from now on, no-one will even want you.’ When I saw what he’d done, I cried solidly for weeks. He had turned me from a fair maiden to what you see now. He threatened to tell the townsfolk that I had killed Chloe; that I was a witch–unless I left there and then. What could I do? I fled.”
“Where did you go, I mean all that time ago, it can’t have been easy?”
“It wasn’t. I just ran away from everything and everyone. I was so embarrassed by what he’d done to me and how he’d made me look, I just made my way deep into the forest, trying to scrape a living from the land, keeping out of everybody’s way, but I couldn’t survive on my own. I was found there by a woman named Ursula. She saw through the outer ugliness and took me in.
“She taught me the Wiccan ways and after four or more years with her, I had learnt to temper my desire for revenge as well as keeping my true identity from the rest of the townsfolk. The fact that we lived outside the main town was helpful and no-one recognised me anyway, so I was able to live something of a normal life, although continually haunted by what Edward Ellsworth had done to both Chloe and to me.
When Ursula died, I took the mantle of looking after the needs of the people in the same way she had, but then things went awry. The man who had killed my beloved became the town’s Mayor. I knew it was him and although I tried to avoid him and remain incognito, he found me and told the townsfolk what I had done–even though in reality, it was he who had been the perpetrator of that heinous crime.
“I was tried in a mock trial where everyone present, except me, was under his influence and as far as I know, they’re still there, fixed in time, but I got him. I dragged him along with me and it’s been a fight ever since.”
“When we met Ellsworth outside here last night and in town this afternoon, I thought it was me he was after, but now I realise it was you,” said Elizabeth–the younger.
“You must get Chloe back here with all haste, my girl. I don’t know how much strength I have left, so win or lose, this is likely to me my last showdown with that–what was it you called him?”
“Arsehole?”
“Yes; that arsehole! If I lose, the repercussions will be felt all the way through history. I must stop him. There’s no telling the damage failing will do.”
Elizabeth–the younger was just about to put the cards down on the table.
“Just how long have you known Chloe?” the apparition asked.
“Since last night.”
“And you have already slept with her?”
“How the–?” Elizabeth began, then realised she was talking to a woman who at the same time as not really being there, how not really been there for over five hundred years. “It wasn’t like that,” she argued, blushing furiously.
“I see,” the apparition observed. “And when did you know that you were in love with her?”
“I’m not!” Elizabeth stated. “She’s my friend… She’s my best friend, but that’s all.”
“Of course it is,” said the apparition. “But remember not to make the same mistake I did. It was too late when I came to admit my feelings. I would hate to see the same thing happen to you.”
“Well it won’t, will it?” Elizabeth said somewhat pugnaciously. “It’s not that kind of a relationship.”
“Of course it isn’t. Now go get her before Edward does and we all fail.”
Chloe had wandered around the big department store slowly, trying to stay out of the cold for as long as possible. However, they were closing and she had to leave, but where was she supposed to go and what was she supposed to do?
She stepped out on to the cobbled street as the smiling man said, “We’re open again at nine tomorrow,” and closed the door behind her, the keys clinking against the glass.
Darkness had already draped itself over everything, which only made it seem colder than it already was. With no money and no idea where to go–other than Elizabeth’s house–she sat back down on one of the cast stone seats, taking a sharp intake of breath as the coldness threatened to draw every last degree of heat through her bum.
“It’s not nice out here is it?” said a voice that Chloe recognised immediately.
“Elizabeth?” she exclaimed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Whoa!” Elizabeth replied, trying to suppress a giggle. “Easy tiger.”
“I didn’t think you’d come back.”
“I nearly didn’t, but let’s just say this was on the cards.”
“So she was real? I wasn’t just dreaming about her or Ellsworth?”
“It seems not and from what she was saying, this encounter between her and Edward could be the last.”
“Why?”
“She’s been growing weaker with every encounter and she doesn’t think she has it in her to make it through another.”
“Shit!”
“Anyway, we need to get you back home as soon as possible for the next round.”
“Um, just a minute,” said Chloe as a metaphoric light blinked on over her head. “What do you mean get me back for the next round?”
“Well, you’re involved–kinda crucial actually. She can’t do it without you.”
“Nuh-uh. I could get hurt… or turned into some form of vegetable or something.”
“Can you hear yourself, Chloe? You started a fire on a man just by touching him. If anything, he should be scared of you. Elizabeth wouldn’t have changed you if she didn’t think–”
“Yes, but none of that was me. It was Elizabeth–the witch. She must have put her ‘fluence in me. I can’t fight Ellsworth. I’m just a girl.” Another metaphoric light flashed in the dim recesses of her slow-moving mind. “She changed me? What d’you mean, changed me? Changed me from what?”
Elizabeth suddenly realised that she was possibly about to send Chloe off into an apoplectic fit.
“A boy,” she said quietly, her head bowed as if it were her fault.
Chloe blinked. “She did what?!”
“Look, Chloe. There’s something bigger than me or you going on here and we have a chance to be a part of it.”
“Which boy?”
“What?”
“Who did I used to be?”
“Steve, but that’s beside the point. The last five hundred years of history could be rewritten if you–”
“Was he nice?”
“Pardon?”
“Was–he–nice?” Chloe said slowly.
“Yes, I suppose so, I don’t really know. I was only with him for about ten minutes, probably less actually and then you were there. She had to do it because otherwise, the whole history from Elizabethan England onwards–”
“Did you like him?”
“What do you mean? I told you I was only with him for ten minutes, if that.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Okay!” she said irritably. “I liked him. Are you happy now?”
“More than me?”
“What?”
“Did you like him more than me?”
“It’s not the same.”
“What isn’t?”
“Well,” she replied. “If you were Steve, you’d never have stayed over last night for a start. You certainly wouldn’t be wearing my clothes and I doubt very much whether we would be having this conversation.”
“I see. So which of us do you like best?”
“That’s the same question you just asked. How can I answer that? Just drop it okay. I like you, isn’t that enough? I mean, why do you want to know anyway?”
“Because apart from the fire bit, I’ve really enjoyed today and wonder whether you’d have done something like this with Steve.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say to that. She too had enjoyed their day–apart that was, from the incident with the burning, but knowing that Chloe wasn’t wholly responsible put that into a different perspective. There was also the point that boys rarely liked shopping–well, from what she’d heard they didn’t, not in the way girls did, and Chloe had been happy pootling around the shops. She doubted very much whether Steve would.
Then there was this morning.
When she awoke, okay, Chloe had clobbered her with her elbow, but being so close to her was intoxicating, thrilling and that was without doing anything too. She thought she wouldn’t have been interested in girls and she still didn’t think she was–but being near Chloe was an exception.
Elizabeth had been–albeit surreptitiously–checking out other girls while they were in town and not one of them ‘did’ anything for her, but Chloe? She was a completely different matter and even before she knew that she used to be Steve–who she’d also been attracted to–Chloe just did something she couldn’t explain.
Of course, she couldn’t tell Chloe that–
“It will not be so easy now, witch!” he snarled.
Immediately Elizabeth grabbed Chloe’s arm and stood really close. “W-what do you want?” she asked.
Chloe could feel the girl trembling at Ellsworth’s intimidating presence.
“You know what I want,” said Ellsworth, appearing to tower over them, his face twisted in a maniacal grin, with an evil sparkle in his eyes. He raised his hand, pointing a finger at Chloe. “I want her.”
“Get behind me,” said Chloe, pushing her friend behind her–not an easy task since Elizabeth appeared to have no intentions of letting go but, eventually, Chloe stood facing the witch’s arch nemesis in the dark–and apparently deserted–street. “You may have bitten off more than you can chew this time, warlock,” she said quietly.
“My dear, nothing would give me greater pleasure than having a real opponent, the others, it’s sad to say, have not been anything more than a minor distraction.”
“Chloe, don’t,” said Elizabeth from behind. “You have no idea what he might do.”
Chloe ignored her friend. “Well? What are you waiting for?” she asked. “I’m here, you’re here. Why delay this any longer?”
“You’re showing gumption, girl, I like that,” he said with genuine enthusiasm.
“Don’t trust him. You said it yourself, he’s an arsehole.”
“However,” said Ellsworth. “I should like to put a stop to that incessant chatter.”
He raised his hand and Elizabeth immediately let go of Chloe, her hands flying to her mouth.
Chloe stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at her friend, whose eyes showed all too clearly, her fear and distress. When Elizabeth moved her hands, Chloe could see her lips growing together, almost as if they were being zipped shut.
“Mmmmph!” Elizabeth mumbled, her fear turning to panic.
“That was a grave mistake, Ellsworth,” said Chloe, darkly.
“We’ll see.”
“We will indeed,” she replied, with grim determination.
With Elizabeth in such a fluster, Chloe found it almost impossible to concentrate and needed to regroup–a difficult task, what with Ellsworth sneering and sealing up mouths all over the place. She saw her chance and let out a blood-curdling scream. At the same time, she felt Elizabeth’s fingers grip her upper arm so tightly it almost stopped the blood flow, while confusion showed as plain as day on Ellsworth’s face.
Taking another breath she was about to let out one more, even louder scream, but a sound–something akin to a cat being strangled, pierced the evening air and the road was filled with the effects of flashing blue lights.
“What’s going on here, Miss,” said a policeman through the open window of his patrol car. “Is there something wrong?”
“Yes, officer. This man’s been stalking us all day. He’s scaring us.”
“Oh come now, Elizabeth, that’s beneath even you,” said Ellsworth, disapproval and frustration replacing his original expression.
The policeman got out of the car, manoeuvring himself between the two girls and the rather flustered-looking Ellsworth. “Which one of you is Elizabeth?”
“She is,” said Chloe.
“That’s not Elizabeth,” said Edward. “The other one is.”
“Is this true?”
“No officer,” said she replied. She moved her head in Elizabeth’s direction. “I’m Chloe; she’s Elizabeth.”
“So you know this man?”
“Only because he threatened us earlier in the precinct and has been following us around, but I don’t know him.”
“You girls had best run along. We’ll deal with this,” said the policeman, his colleague stepping out of the other side of the car.
“You can’t escape that easily, witch,” shouted Ellsworth.
“You’re not doing yourself any favours here,” said the second policeman.
The two girls left the scene, returning to Elizabeth’s house as quickly as their legs would carry them.
Chloe led Elizabeth straight downstairs to the basement and picked up the cards.
“Elizabeth,” she called. “I need your help, quickly.”
Elizabeth–the younger–watched as Chloe appeared to go into some kind of trance.
Elizabeth–the witch–appeared to Chloe and saw Elizabeth–the younger–immediately.
“Ellsworth?” she asked.
“Yes. A few minutes ago. I managed to get him taken away by the police, but I don’t imagine it will hold him up for too long. Can you fix it?”
“I can’t. You’re going to have to.”
“But, I don’t know how.”
“It’s alright, I can give you what you need, but there’s likely to be a price.”
“Price? What price?” Chloe asked, aghast.
“The fact is I am not what I used to be. Five hundred years of fighting and hiding has taken its toll. I can help you to right this, but whether that will leave me with enough strength for the fight and to return you to normal afterwards–assuming we’re successful of course, is not certain.”
Chloe thought for a moment, her head bowed.
“Then that means I would stay as I am, right?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I’d never go back to being Steve?”
“No.”
Chloe had to think.
There was an overwhelming desire to do right by her friend Elizabeth and of course, at the same time, she was curious about who she really was.
However, despite the fact that she liked being Chloe–it was after all, all she’d known over the very short space of time she had been this way–Steve was who she really was. Ellen was desperate to find her son and Chloe felt she owed her the chance to have him back.
However, it wasn’t as if she had a choice.
Elizabeth–the witch–may not have been able to change her back and, much as she wanted to know who she had been before all this started, she also felt a need to make things right before any of the brown stuff got caught up in the air conditioning. Then at least, Elizabeth–the younger–would be herself again and that’s what mattered to Chloe.
“I don’t care,” she said at last. “It’s my fault Elizabeth got mixed up in all this and she just has to be fixed.”
The witch looked at Chloe and smiled. “She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”
“Duh! She’s my friend.”
“I see,” the witch replied, nodding knowingly.
Chloe didn’t think she believed that was all there was to it. “She’s just a friend,” she assured the witch.
“Of course,” the witch agreed, with a slight smirk.
“Right,” Chloe said, with some degree of obstinacy and a vigorous nod of the head.
As they set about curing Elizabeth, Chloe could feel a strange sensation flooding her body, kind of like the tingling she received from the cards, but more so. It was so strong that she was only vaguely aware of the witch’s voice in her head, giving her step-by-step instructions on what to do–something Chloe seemed to be doing on autopilot.
She was also dimly aware of the arrival of Ellen and Lynne as they reached the foot of the stairway, standing mouths agape on the bottom two stairs, as Lynne’s niece appeared to glow slightly and lift, her head tilting back, eyes closed and arms outspread, while her lips started to slowly reform and part. Then, very slowly, the young girl descended back to the floor, the glowing ceased and Elizabeth opened her eyes and her mouth with a deep sigh, followed by two almost simultaneous sharp intakes of breath from Lynne and Ellen.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Lynne demanded.
Chloe and Elizabeth were about to reply when Edward Ellsworth’s voice thundered, “I’m not going to play these games anymore, witch. ”
How he’d gained entry was uncertain, but there he was in the middle of the cellar floor, just a few feet from the two girls. Chloe immediately pushed Elizabeth across the room towards her aunt and Ellen, stepping across to the table to get to the cards.
“As I said–no more playing.”
With a negligent flick of a finger and a muttered collection of words, the cards flew in all directions, shredding into thousands of pieces and fluttering like confetti to the floor.
“What have you done?” Chloe demanded. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Not at all, it’s just you and me now. There’s nowhere for you to hide, Elizabeth. This is the last time for one of us.”
Chloe felt a wrench in her stomach. She could not feel the witch’s presence as she had done and it felt to her as though she had gone. Maybe Ellsworth’s destruction of the cards had finally put paid to the witch too and now, she had to face down a very angry-looking warlock–alone.
“Bring it on, arsehole,” she said bravely.
“I do hate that expression. It sounds so uncouth when it comes from one as pretty as you. Perhaps I should do to your latest incarnation what I did all those centuries ago–poetic justice don’t you think?”
“I’d like to see you try,” Chloe said through clenched teeth.
Ellsworth pointed a finger at Chloe and a bolt of lightning arced and sizzled as it spanned the intervening space between him and Chloe, but it didn’t find its mark. Instead, Chloe ducked and it hit a wall lamp behind her, causing the bulb to burst, sending a spectacular spray of blue-white sparkles and shattered glass cascading over the floor.
The smell of ozone hung heavy in the air as Chloe glimpsed her friend, held protectively by her aunt, Lynne, at the foot of the stairs. As she tried to reach out, crying and fighting to get to her, but Lynne simply gathered her in her arms and held her close.
“Lucky,” said Ellsworth, already drawing himself up for another attack.
Again, Chloe dodged the bolt of lightning, which this time struck the floor, sending a plume of smoke upwards as it singed the pieces of the cards Ellsworth had shredded moments earlier.
Chloe taunted the aged warlock. “Not very good at this, are you?”
“Mock me not, witch,” he bellowed, standing tall and sending a third bolt at Chloe, which this time found its mark, engulfing her in a blue-white nimbus.
At the same time, in all the static, the pieces of the cards started to move.
Slowly at first, the tiny pieces stood up, like iron filings over a magnet, but then they began moving, edging towards one another, lifting off the ground and swirling as if caught in a vortex.
Ellsworth’s face began showing signs of fear as he didn’t appear to be able to stop the flow of the charge. His body shook as the pieces of the cards moved together, swirling upwards joining and forming a shape, but this time not as the cards they had previously been.
The cards swirled faster and faster, blurring as Ellsworth,wide-eyed with terror, shook violently, his body almost convulsing and his head nodding forwards and backwards, then from side to side. All the while, the cards swirled and Chloe, still suffused with the white glow, continued to stand as if apart from all that was happening.
The pieces of card had reformed into something reminiscent of a human being; its back hunched and its face haphazardly placed around a huge nose, hooked over and almost touching a very prominent chin–never looking as though it was going to finish forming as it undulated and pulsed.
For the briefest moment, everything stopped and the figure in the cards turned to face the sweating and ashen figure of Ellsworth, the face twisting and distorting in a hideous grin.
“Please,” he begged, dropping to his knees, though it wasn’t obvious whether that was a gesture of supplication or because he no longer had the energy to support his own weight.
“Edward Ellsworth begging?” intoned the darkly hollow voice of the card figure. “Please?” it asked, mocking.
“I-I…” the sentence trailed off into nothingness as the figure of the warlock tumbled forwards, prostrating itself on the floor at the card figure’s feet.
“You what?” it asked. “For years you tormented; lied through those stinking rotten teeth of yours and above all, murdered to get what you wanted, walking over everyone in your way in order to further your own desires, but no more.”
“Who…?” he began.
“SILENCE!” roared the card figure as it turned and smiled somewhat wistfully at the glowing figure of Chloe. With a series of intricate gestures and mumbled incantations, the figure lifted its hands and cried out.
The aura that surrounded Chloe burst in an explosion of light shards that flew in all directions, ripping the cards away from the figure that had been within and, moments later, Elizabeth Knotts stood before Ellsworth.
“This is what you did to me.”
Ellsworth cowered.
“Now it is your turn.”
With more incantations and gesticulations, she brought her hands together as if to clap and then slowly drew them apart, a mist-like substance between them, which grew as her hands moved apart.
With a single motion of her hands, she pushed the ball of mist towards Ellsworth who cried out just once.
As the mist descended, engulfing Ellsworth’s entire body, he began writhing and the more he writhed, the more Elizabeth changed. Her nose shank and her chin receded. The warts disappeared, the hair changed from iron-grey to honey blonde growing longer, cascading over her shoulders and shining like it had just been polished.
Within no more than a couple of minutes, Elizabeth stood over the form of Ellsworth, weeping sores and boils covering the majority of his face. Black, rotten teeth fell from between his lips as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Why?” he asked, but Elizabeth ignored him.
“Poetic justice, I believe you called it,” she said and turned to face the three others in the room.
“I apologise for this imposition,” she said. “I can see you are fearful, but please do not worry, I have no animosity towards any of you.” She focussed on Elizabeth. “In fact, young lady, I must thank you, for with your help I have been able to force the hand of Edward Ellsworth. Hopefully, this will be an end to centuries of fighting.”
“What about–?” Elizabeth–the younger asked.
The beautiful witch who stood before them raised her hand. “I shall deal with that momentarily. If you will excuse me.”
For a few moments the witch, Elizabeth, seemed to stare into nothing.
“Are you there, Chloe?”
“I am here,” came the reply, but the words appeared to come from two voices.
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped open as standing before them was not only the Chloe who had once been Steve, but also the elder Chloe who once was hers.
“You have returned?” she asked.
“Sadly no, my love, I cannot. The foul deed that Ellsworth hath performed upon me cannot be reversed. Know that I am with you in spirit and know too that one day, we will once again be together.”
Elizabeth’s face dropped and her eyes took on a look of profound sadness.
“Please, do not mourn my departure, my love,” said her Chloe. “For that was my time. Had I not been so foully murdered at the hands of that insane man, thy victory today would not have been possible.” She turned to Chloe–the younger. “And it wouldst seem I have thee to thank for that.”
“I did very little,” said Chloe, blushing furiously.
“Thou hast done what was right and that is what is important.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“I do love thee, my Elizabeth and I will be waiting for thee…”
With that, the image of the older Chloe faded, leaving those in the room in silence, save Ellsworth, who continued to snivel on the floor at Elizabeth–the witch’s feet.
Chloe–the older, was so beautiful that Chloe–the younger felt almost jealous, something that Chloe–the older had seen through almost immediately.
“Thou hast nothing to be ashamed of,” she said. “Thy looks are quite breathtaking enough.”
“Thank you, but it’s not that which bothers me at this time.”
“What is’t that ails thee, child?”
“It’s just that in order to do this, your Elizabeth had to change me. I can’t remember any of it, but I used to be a boy named Steve. I’m afraid that when this is all over and if I survive, I shall have to return to being him.”
“Is that so bad?” the elder Chloe asked.
“I don’t know, but I like this–I mean, being a girl. I’m sure I would think differently were I Steve’s mind in this body, but I’m not. I’m me, not Steve and I’m afraid that if we win, I shall have to let this go and I’m not sure I want to. Actually, I’m very sure I don’t.”
“That is a dilemma, is it not?”
“I know, but being Steve again would make it easier to ask Elizabeth out.”
“Elizabeth?” the elder Chloe asked, her eyebrows shooting up.
“Not your Elizabeth, my Elizabeth,” Chloe replied. “It feels awkward as a girl asking another girl to be my girlfriend.”
“And thinkest thou it would be easier were you male?”
“Well, yes. It’s kind of natural for a boy to ask a girl out, isn’t it?”
“Wouldst thee find it easier?”
Chloe–the younger thought about that and truth to tell, it probably wouldn’t have been any easier for Steve to ask Elizabeth–the younger out on a date after all.
“We–ell probably not, but boys and girls are more conventional, aren’t they?"
“That may well be so, child, however, that is not always how love works, is it?”
The young Chloe thought about it momentarily. Perhaps boys and girls was acceptable, but it wasn’t always the way love worked.
The memory of seeing her Elizabeth crying and trying her best to get to her earlier made Chloe think hard about the situation. Would Elizabeth have been so emotional if the person being attacked by Ellsworth had been Steve?
It was a moot point since that didn’t happen, but what did occur to her was the fact that such an emotional display meant that it was highly likely that Elizabeth had stronger feelings for her than she thought and if she was to be returned to being Steve, would those feelings still be there?
The scary part of it all was whether her mum would still love her if she knew that she, Chloe, didn’t want to be Steve anymore? Would it make any difference if she didn’t tell her mum that she didn’t want to change back and told her instead that she had to stay this way?
There were so many questions and not a single answer to be found.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Elizabeth–the witch cleared her throat and wiped some rather obvious tears from her eyes.
The witch took Chloe’s hands and as she did, something passed between them and the woman’s voice sounded loud in her head.
“I know I said I would change you back to Steve if I was able, but it is time for me to pass my gift on as Ursula did for me and I trust you will use it wisely. I can think of no-one better to pass this gift to, though it will no doubt take some time for you to learn the extent of what you are able do; but I have faith in you. As for Steve, I think we both know he’s not what you want to be and anyway, I need you to send Edward and me back from whence we came.”
“I-I don’t understand,” said Chloe.
The witch gently laid a hand on Chloe’s face and smiled warmly. “You will, my child. You will.”
Elizabeth–the witch, turned to the others and moved to the centre of the room.
“I must thank you, Chloe,” she said, aloud this time. “And you too, Elizabeth, for your help and support. It is nearly time for me to leave, but before I do, I have to talk to you, Ellen.”
Ellen nearly jumped out of her skin. “M-m-me?” she stammered.
“I must tell you that Steve is missing because of me. For five hundred years I have been waging this war against the miscreant you see before you and each time I have found someone to help, they have been thwarted. It’s been most unfortunate, but I have never been given a choice in this.
“When your son handled the cards, something happened that has never happened before and that was an interruption at a crucial point. In fact that saved his life–or not, depending upon how you care to look at it.”
“It did? Where is he?” Ellen asked.
“He is standing just over there.”
Ellen looked round, trying to see her son, yet the only person visible was Chloe, who was trying her best to hold herself together. “Where?”
“Come here, Chloe,” said the witch, holding her hand out.
Obediently, Chloe stepped forward.
“This is Steve,” said the witch. “I can only work with women and over the years have discovered that it’s not always women that I am dealt–if you pardon the pun–what with the cards and all.”
The comment went straight over the heads of both Ellen and Lynne, although Chloe and both Elizabeths all saw the funny side.
“Anyway,” said Elizabeth–the witch, clearing her throat. “I had to change Steve and Chloe was the result. However, the interruption meant that Chloe has no recollection of Steve or his life whatsoever and I’m pleased to say that had that not been the case, it’s entirely likely that we would have fallen, Ellsworth would have won and I would be no more. Heaven alone knows what the changes to what we all know would have been.”
“S-she’s St-Steve?” Ellen asked, her face ashen.
“Yes–well, no. She’s Chloe.”
“I don’t understand,” the anxious mother said.
“Chloe came from Steve, but retained none of his memories. Essentially, Chloe is an entirely new person.”
“Does that mean she’s my d-d-d-daughter?”
“That’s about the size of it, yes.”
With that revelation, Ellen dropped to the floor in a dead faint.
Lynne immediately dropped to her knees, trying to make Ellen comfortable as she came round. “Why the hell didn’t you say something?” she said, angrily.
“We only found out just before we got back and didn’t have time to tell you. By the time we got here, everything kicked off,” said Chloe. “We were going to. We just didn’t know when.”
“Please don’t be angry with them,” Elizabeth–the witch asked plaintively. “They have been most helpful in ways you cannot even begin to imagine and it really isn’t their fault that they didn’t have the time or opportunity to tell you about what was happening.”
The witch straightened.
“It is time, Chloe. Please, take my hand.”
To the astonishment of Elizabeth, Ellen and Lynne, Chloe began an incantation in a language none of them understood. The air around her, Ellsworth and Elizabeth–the ex-witch now, began twinkling, what appeared to be tiny beads that shone with all the colours of the rainbow swirled around them, becoming more numerous and faster with each passing second.
Soon, all three were engulfed in a tornado of light, which whipped around them and when Chloe lifted her hands, the swirling lights rose, taking Elizabeth and the disgusting Edward Ellsworth with it, rising up through the ceiling until the last shining ‘bead’ disappeared with a ‘pop’.
Chloe dropped her hands by her side, her head bowed and her face showing traces of the tears that had run from her eyes.
Though their meeting had been short, Chloe felt a wrench at losing Elizabeth–the ex-witch, feeling that had the time been different, they may well have enjoyed a long and lasting friendship.
“Holy shit!” said Elizabeth, breaking Chloe’s moment of reflection, running to her friend and engulfing her in a huge hug. “Are you here to stay?”
Chloe nodded and looked at the two women, neither of whom looked as though they really believed what had occurred.
“Are you disappointed, Mum?” she asked.
Ellen looked at the young girl, her face filled with awe, shaking her head slowly. “Not at all. I was horrible to you as Steve, but that was because I knew you needed to grow up without a father. I think I can be a much better mother to you now,” she said, blushing. “As, at least I know something about girls.”
Wordlessly, Chloe walked across the room to her mother and the two of them held each other tight.
As Ellen and Chloe made preparations to leave, Elizabeth approached Chloe.
“Don’t you ever frighten me like that again,” she said, standing very close.
Quite how she had frightened Elizabeth, she wasn't sure, but she looked into the eyes of her friend and knew exactly what Elizabeth wasn't saying, that perhaps she should have been. Elizabeth–the ex-witch’s friend Chloe was right. Love wasn’t always straightforward.
“I won’t,” she replied and with her stomach doing back-flips, she took Elizabeth’s face in her hands and kissed her soundly on the lips. “I love you too much for that.”
I’ve looked up the definition of the word ‘accident’, and according to the information I’ve found, it goes as follows:
An undesirable or unfortunate event that occurs unintentionally and usually results in harm, injury, damage, loss, casualty or mishap.
I can’t honestly say what follows was entirely accidental because it had been planned–I just didn’t know that at the time. However, it was what followed the part that had been planned, which is really what I define as accidental.
Whatever, it’s the nearest thing I can think of that can possibly explain how I came to be in the predicament I was in, suffering the mishap if you will and looking back, the memories of that holiday leave me with a certain warm fuzziness, but that’s not how it felt at the time…
Edited, as always, by the fantastic Gabmeister
Somebody once said that this couldn’t happen by accident, but then I suppose that all depends upon the circumstances of the accident doesn’t it?
I’ve looked up the definition of the word ‘accident’, and according to the information I’ve found, it goes as follows:
I can’t honestly say what follows was entirely accidental because it had been planned–I just didn’t know that at the time. However, it was what followed the part that had been planned, which is really what I define as accidental.
Whatever, it’s the nearest thing I can think of that can possibly explain how I came to be in the predicament I was in, suffering the mishap if you will and looking back, the memories of that holiday leave me with a certain warm fuzziness, but that’s not how it felt at the time…
Oh sure, Mum and Dad would be there, but me and three girls?
Gross.
To start with, Jess and I don’t get on particularly well. I think Mum and Dad side with her more often than with me–never mind what happened and I know that she has it easier at school.
You’re probably thinking I’ve got a whopping-great chip on my shoulder aren’t you? Well you’re wrong. You see, Jess and I are alike, but then that’s because we’re brother and sister, but we’re not identical. We’re almost identical heights though, and when she puts on her shoes–which have massively thick soles, she stands a good three inches taller than me. You can imagine how that goes down with the boys at school–my being smaller than my little sister.
To make matters worse, she and her friends are three of the main reasons for the problems I have. She’s forever causing trouble for me or starting it anyway and to find out that her two best friends would be joining us–the same two that are usually in on the ‘jokes’ she plays on me, just put the icing on the cake. However with Aston Park and all those cool rides in the picture, I was prepared to pretend they didn’t exist.
As the school holidays approached, I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. All the “they don’t exist” thoughts were dribbling out of my head as the reality of the situation became more apparent.
Why my parents had agreed to let Jessica bring Megan and Christine on holiday with us to Cliffside was a mystery to me. Just thinking about it made me shudder. I mean would they have let me bring my friends–? I don’t think so. In all honesty, I never even thought to ask. Anyway, goodness knows I voiced enough objections about being the only boy among three girls, but Mum and Dad would hear none of it.
“You’ll be fine,” they said.
“But Mum!?” I whined, firstly, going for the easier of the parents to get round and gesticulating to try and get the point across. “It’s only a shed and, you’ve seen the pictures; it’s so small. Where are we all going to sleep?”
I had seen the pictures and although the cabins were called cottages, they were in fact, log cabins, though in truth, the ones we saw looked about the size of one-car garages or rather as I thought more appropriate, sheds.
It appeared that Jessica had similar issues.
“Yes, where will we all sleep, Mum?” she asked, arriving half way through my sentence.
“You’ll see kids. It’ll be fine,” said Dad, ruffling my hair and smiling at Jess.
I hate it when he does that–er, the ruffling bit, not the smiling.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I can’t see what the problem is. It’s not like you’re going to be sharing your room with them, is it? And what’s so wrong with taking a holiday with three hot chicks?” He shrugged and wiggled his eyebrows, I presume to let me know it was cool.
Bless him, my dad does try to be hip with us, using words like ‘cool’, ‘rad’, ‘chicks’ and ‘word’, but I really think he put his foot in it this time. After the ‘hot chicks’ comment, Jess and Mum gave him looks that collectively could have turned milk sour at a hundred yards, probably because an old bloke like Dad calling a bunch of fourteen year-olds hot was a little disturbing.
“Of course,” he added hastily. “Your mother is the only ‘hot chick’ I’ll be looking at.” He flashed her a quick grin, but I could see that didn’t improve his situation.
Worse, for me, the idea that Jessica and her two friends were ‘hot’ just didn’t swing it, I mean, pul-ease. Anyway, I still had it in my head that we’d all be sleeping in one big pile in the middle of a tiny little wooden box.
“So why does Jess get to take her friends?”
“Her friends have invited her horse riding on numerous occasions. It’s only fair we repay the compliment. And anyway, their parents are paying for them.”
“Looking forward to the holidays, Jamie?” my best friend, Andy, asked at school a couple of days later.
“Yeah, like a hole in the head,” I replied with a face like a wet weekend.
“What’s the problem?”
“I told you. We’re going to Banthorpe with Megan and Christine.”
“Not Megan Clarke?” he asked, his eyes widening.
“Yes,” I said, drawing the word out like a bit of bubble gum and adding a very bored tone.
“WOW! You lucky bastard.”
It was my turn to go wide-eyed and I had to ask myself what was going on. My best mate had always been dead against girls getting in on the fun and now they were not only ‘in’ but right ‘in’. He wasn’t helping either as he seemed to think it was a marvellous idea.
“Are you out of your tree?” I asked. “Can you imagine, three girls–giggling all the time?” In my opinion, it was the end of sanity as I knew it.
“I can imagine three girls–” he said with a dreamy expression. “Can’t you?” he asked, giving me a nudge and a look I didn’t fully understand. “I take it Christine is Christine Bates? I mean the Christine Bates.” He seemed to be almost drooling, nodding and blinking rapidly all at the same time; something which I took as some sort of nervous disorder, as more often than not, he had trouble walking and talking simultaneously.
“Yeah? So?” I asked with a casual shrug.
“Jesus, Jamie. Are you gay or something?”
“Oh yeah, sure,” I said nodding then adding, “NOT!!” and furiously shaking my head.
“You must be if you don’t like the possibility of getting to kiss at least one of the three hottest girls this side of the Atlantic–certainly the three hottest girls from our school–and they’re going to be sharing your cottage?”
I hadn’t even given them a second glance or thought that way, let alone considered any kissing. To me they were just giggly and incredibly annoying girls. “It’s a shed, not a cottage,” I said morosely. “Just a minute. What do you mean–three?”
“Well Jessica’s not exactly a bag of spanners now, is she?”
“I’m not going to be kissing Jessica, am I? You’re a sick puppy.”
“Not Jess, dozy. Megan or Christine, duh!” he said then paused as a thoughtful look spread across his face. “Or both. Can’t you just imagine it–snuggled up in a cosy little cottage?” He shook his head slowly, his head bowed. “You lucky, lucky bastard.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said morosely, thinking that the one person I expected sympathy from was actually showing more than what I considered to be a healthy amount of interest and more pointedly, a very large portion of jealousy as well.
“Well, take it from me–she’s not. You’re just so damned lucky. Can’t I come with you? I mean if Megan and Christine are going, shouldn’t you be allowed to invite me? One more’s not going to make any diff–”
“No!” I said quickly and that was that.
He stomped off, evidently disappointed with me going on holiday with my sister and her two friends and not asking him along. Personally, I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. They were just three stupid giggly girls and what on earth could he see as being good about that?
Of course as the holiday neared, Christine and Megan were often round our house–even more than usual–as the three of them had to make plans and without being obvious, I made sure I got a good look at them to try and see what it was that Andy was so making such a fuss about.
Christine was tall–around five-eight, which was a few inches taller than Jessica and me. She had red hair and her face was covered in freckles. She had really piercing blue eyes, but so far I couldn’t see anything special. There was nothing that I could see that would entice me into kissing her.
Megan on the other hand was fairly short–a bit shorter than me, but only by an inch at most, with short, spiky hair and hazel eyes that always looked like she was up to something mischievous. I liked her–well, I thought her better than Christine as she didn’t seem such a giggly, girly, girl, but I didn’t know what it was about either of them that made Andy go all silly. Anyway, whenever she and Christine were around Jess, all they ever did was giggle and whisper.
They certainly didn’t appeal to me.
What was it that Andy saw I them? I couldn’t fathom it out at all. I must be gay–Oh Lord.
About the only thing positive I came away from that thought with, was realising that the thought of kissing a boy was even less appealing than kissing a girl.
Eeeeeyeeeeew.
When the time arrived, all four of us piled into the back of my Dad’s Renault Espace and began the tedious drive to the coast.
We weren’t even two miles down the road when the trouble started.
All I was doing was playing a video game in the back of the car, when sweet wrappers and other sundry items started bouncing off my head.
“Oy!” I said, yanking the earphones out of my ears. “Bog off.” I nudged the back of Jessica’s seat–the middle one and went back to my game, but more of them came over and I gave her a flick on the ear, which made her squeal.
Mum and Dad gave us a warning, or more to the point–me.
“Wasn’t me. It was Jess. She keeps throwing things at me.”
“Well then don’t antagonise her,” was the reply.
Antagonise? I wasn’t doing anything and before long, whatever it was they were throwing at me, started coming over again, accompanied by more giggles.
I hit the back of Jess’s seat again with my knee.
She turned to look over the back of the seat. “Listen, you little bastard,” she said through clenched teeth. “If you don’t stop that, you’ll be sorry.”
I knew exactly what she’d do too. Well, maybe not exactly, but I had been threatened with that before and okay, I was sorry, but a principal is a principal and I wasn’t going to let her have the last word.
“Huh. With a sister like you, I already am.”
“Mu-um!” she whined. “Jamie keeps kicking my seat.”
Dad muttered something and after an emergency stop that left two long, black stripes on the road and pungent blue tyre smoke in the air, I was the one found guilty.
We made a stop at a roadside café where I pointedly refused to speak to anyone. After being blamed for the commotion in the car that wasn’t my fault, I didn’t think it right. As a result, I got given a burger and fries, not a cheeseburger–which I always had–and a can of orangeade, which everyone knows I hate, instead of cola.
Anyway, I ate the burger, drank the orangeade–but under sufferance. Back in the car, I had a long time to think about things, and figured that what I’d done had definitely not turned out the way I’d hoped. To add insult to injury, when we got back in the car and were all buckled up, Mum gave us all a grilling.
“I don’t want to hear another peep out of any of you. Is that understood?” she demanded. We all nodded silently. “That’s any of you, but especially you, James.”
Whenever my name goes to ‘James’, I know I’m in deep do-dos and this was one of those times.
Dad took the cliff-top route which wound its way, hugging the outer edges of the cliffs as it meandered left, right, up and down, sometimes with no more than a few feet between us and the cliff edge. Further on, we seemed to move inland, climbing as we went and the hills to the north rose sharply from the side of the road giving us the feeling that the huge, green slopes were trying to squeeze us off.
I the meantime of course, Jess was blatantly disregarding what Mum had told us and was periodically looking over the back of her seat and mouthing threats at me, presumably because she got a ticking-off by Mum too.
I knew that if I wanted to go to the park over this holiday, I was going to have to keep out of trouble and about all I did was poke my tongue out at her. It was just pure bad luck that Mum happened to notice me doing it…
“I’ve warned you, young man,” she said in an ominous tone. It was all she needed to say, but it didn’t stop Jess looking over once more with a smug look. Her attitude was really trying my patience and I couldn’t help feeling that my dear sinister was just begging me to do something to her that she’d regret… or should that be that I’d regret? Whatever, I was getting close to that time where I just wanted to do something nasty to her.
We left the sea views, travelling uphill mainly under a thick canopy of trees, which made a welcome respite from the blinding sunshine and stifling heat, however, it wasn’t the stunning sea views we’d read about.
“So much for the view,” Mum said, disappointedly. “It doesn’t look as though we’re going to get much of that round here.”
“Unless you like trees,” Dad said with a grin.
Mum shot him one of her looks.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Dad a little nervously–well obviously; we weren’t out of the woods yet.
Some way further up, a sign appeared with horses on, pointing up the road and to the right with ‘Cliffside’ emblazoned beneath. We all breathed a huge sigh of relief, especially Dad. It was about seven o’clock by that time and I think if it had been any further, we would all have been at each other’s throats, but seeing that sign made us all feel rejuvenated.
We turned right into a neatly kept gravelled car park. A large house sat nestled up a short lane in the trees slightly uphill to the left had a sign attached to what was clearly an extension to the main house reading ‘Office’, whilst opposite, spaces had been left for about half a dozen cars marked ‘private’, presumably for staff and the owners.
Dad stopped right outside the office and got out, followed by Mum.
“Jamie. Come with us,” she said.
I could hear the girls giggling as I ‘huffed’ and slid slowly from the car.
“I’m not leaving you in there with the girls,” she said, nodding towards Jess and her friends. “Who knows what you’ll get up to and we would like to be able to drive home in a car that’s in one piece.”
Inside the office, a man who looked like a white-haired Elvis, took Mum and Dad’s particulars.
They talked for what felt like ages and I just leafed through some magazines, finding one that really caught my eye–Aston Park. In the gatefold pamphlet were pictures of the very rides I had been dreaming about since I found out we were coming here and my tummy did that thing like going over a hump-back bridge while goose-bumps rose all over the place.
I was away to the mixer, but then I heard Dad say, “Thank you; we’ll be in touch about the riding. Come on, squirt,” and I hastily put the pamphlet in my pocket to drool over later and did an about turn.
“Enjoy your stay,” said Elvis man.
I was half expecting him to say “Thankyouverymuch in a southern American drawl, so to hear him speaking more like he came from the West Country was a bit of a shock.
We left the office and I found I was very excited, and slowly, with the sound of the gravel under the tyres for effect, we continued our way along the path, moving slowly down the steep slope through the trees, which provided that wonderful resinous scent so evocative of wooded areas where evergreens are present.
The driveway was quite long, taking us more than about three or four minutes to get from the house and office to the ‘cabins’. It was then that we saw what we had rented for our holiday.
The reality of the cabins was far in excess of the pictures–especially ours, since it was substantially bigger than the others.
“Oh wow!” said Mum. “This is much better than I was expecting.”
“I told you,” said Dad, with a smug look.
“Okay, smarty-pants. You can take that look off your face for a start,” she said, slapping his arm.
“What?” he winced.
I couldn’t actually see, but I knew Mum was smiling. I think she liked this place already–as did I. It was kind of like a ranch-house–only slightly smaller, and my imagination was running riot before I’d even got out of the car.
I should imagine Dad was feeling more relieved than anything else, as the ‘cottage’ wasn't what any of us were expecting–at all. It was huge, sitting on a plot with a veranda and a reasonable-sized lawn in front with real-sized rooms too. There was a double for Mum and Dad complete with a veranda, a twin room for Jess and her friends–well actually, there were three beds in there: a bunk bed and a single in a very good-sized room and a small room for me with a window that overlooked some very interesting areas, ripe for exploring.
There was nothing, save the level patch of ground between it and a view of the English Channel. It came complete with everything we could possibly want–including a TV, DVD, decent-sized bathroom–plus an en-suite for Mum and Dad, which meant not having to go into the bathroom after him–phew! There was a well-stocked kitchen–at least as far as the utensils were concerned, a good quality gas stove, fridge and microwave.
The view was truly stunning in the early evening sunlight, which was accented by the sound of the screeches made by wheeling gulls, searching the shore-line for scraps of food.
I dumped my bags in my room and hurtled down the stairs.
“Where are you going?” called Mum. “Go and help unpack the car, young man.”
“But I got my stuff already,” I countered.
“Then you can help the girls.”
“Help them?” I squeaked. They’d given me nothing but grief all the way down here, why on Earth should I help them? “But there’s three of them.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Well, they can help each other.”
“Just go help your sister and her friends, alright?” she said, a dangerous arch to her eyebrows–you know the one. It’s the one when you know that every birthday from that point forth will be one where you wish you’d never been born and don’t even get me started on Christmas. Mum’s suggestion had put paid to any ideas I had for the immediate future with that one look.
The reception I got from Jess and the others was pretty much what I expected; a smugness and definite superiority I just knew spelt trouble. Thank God I wasn’t going to have to spend any serious time with them.
That night, the parents decided to go out after Mum had prepared us pizza and salad. Surprisingly, they were leaving Jessica in charge.
“What?” I exclaimed, thinking that whilst we may well have been twins, I was her big brother–even if only by nineteen minutes and I should have been left in charge.
“You should have thought about that before you started antagonising her in the car on the way here–”
I was about to protest my innocence, but Mum immediately headed that one off at the pass.
“Don’t argue young man and don’t give her any jip, or you definitely won’t be going to Aston Park. Is that clear?”
I knew exactly what that meant. As I said earlier and can’t stress enough, Aston Park had some of the coolest rides anywhere in England. I definitely didn’t want to miss that and knew it was probably best to keep my mouth shut. “Yes Mum.”
Mum kissed me on the cheek and after the door had closed, I thrust my hands in my pockets, huffed and went into my room to get some things together before heading off outside, but while I was rifling through my stuff, there was a sound from out in the hall.
“Jamie?” said Jessica’s voice accompanied by a gentle knocking on the door.
“Go away,” I replied, shaking my head and rolling my eyes.
“Jamie? Come on, we just want to play a game.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
“It’d be so much more fun with all of us.”
“That’s a shame then, isn’t it?” If she thought I was going to spend any time with them, especially after the business in the car, she had another think coming. I hoped the tone of my voice reflected that.
“Mum said, don’t argue or give me any jip.”
“Mum said–” I began, mimicking what she said, but stopped myself mid sentence, as I suddenly realised what would happen. I flew to the door, wrenching it open. “That’s bad–even for you, Jessica.”
She batted her eyelashes and shrugged, turning back towards their room, where I could hear more of that giggling from the other two along with Take That–Yuck! I stomped along behind her, feeling that at the rate it was going, this holiday was just going to get worse and worse.
Entering the girls’ room, a sudden icy tingle of fear traced its way down my spine. They had never bothered me before and yet now they were looking decidedly predatory; almost as if they were big cats, licking their lips in preparation for the main meal: a fresh gazelle–or in this case–me.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Well, perhaps it’s not a exactly a game that we want to play,” said Jessica, evasively.
I looked at her through frowning eyes. “Just what are you saying, Jess?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” she replied, going from looking like a female Dr. Frankenstein, to Dexter’s sister, Dee-Dee as she flounced across the room.
Whoever it was occupying that head of hers, I didn’t like them one bit.
I felt something bad was going to happen as Megan looked at me sort of speculatively and Christine’s stare was worse. Meanwhile, Jessica was over at the chest of drawers. As clothes flew out, that sinking feeling once again rushed at my stomach.
“Here,” Jessica said authoritatively. “Put these on.”
My eyes went as wide as dinner plates as a short denim skirt appeared on the floor in front of me, followed by a pair of black and cerise hooped opaque tights and a ‘T’ top in cerise that matched the colour of the tights.
I became rooted to the spot, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, with nothing, not even bubbles coming out. “You’re joking, right?” I asked, eventually.
“Not at all. It’s not like you’re going to wearing them. You’re just going to model them for us to see.”
“Er,” I began, trying to get my head around the logic. If I had to put them on, surely that meant I was going to be wearing them, didn’t it? There was no way I could do that. I looked at Megan, then Christine and finally Jessica, who was standing tapping her foot impatiently.
“No chance, Jess,” I said with a vigorous shake of my head. “Not a hope.”
“No arguing and no jip, remember?” she reminded me.
“I don’t care. I’m not wearing those.”
“I’ll tell Mum.”
“Go ahead. I’m not putting that stuff anywhere near me. Anyway, when Mum said about arguing and giving you jip, this was not what she meant.” I said with a note of authority and defiance.
“And how do you know?” she asked. “Besides, she won’t know this is what we were doing.” She gave me one of those looks. “Will she?”
“What d’you mean?” I asked, that sinking feeling coming back with a vengeance.
“Well, I might say you were being horrible to us,” she said looking at Megan and Christine. “Won’t we, girls? You do want to go to Aston Park, don’t you?”
I looked at the others, who were smirking and that sinking feeling gave way to the knowledge that I was sunk.
Reluctantly, I snatched up the clothes, stormed off into the bathroom and replaced mine with the ones she gave me, grumbling all the while. Slowly, I walked back into their room, feeling more self-conscious and stupid than at any other time in my entire life.
“What have you got on under those tights?” Jessica asked.
“My boxers. What did you think I’d have on?”
“You idiot,” she said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as her friends giggled. “You can’t wear those under tights.” She turned with a purposeful air and after rummaging in another drawer, pulled out a pair of plain white cotton knickers, which, with a great theatrical gesture, she gave to me.
“This isn’t happening,” I mumbled as I stumped out to the bathroom again.
“Remember, no arguing and no jip, Jamie,” she called out after me in a sing-song, mocking kind of voice, to more giggles from the others.
I closed the bathroom door and started to peel off the tights, my head in a total spin. I knew that if I didn’t do as they said, there was no way I was going to be able to go to Aston Park. At the same time though, I could feel the smooth fabric of the tights against my legs and the strange, but not unpleasant sensation of the skirt. I was surprised to discover that it wasn’t so bad after all. There was no way I was going to tell Jess that though.
Once I put on the knickers, I was in a complete dilemma.
They felt really nice, compared to the feeling of the boxers I was used to wearing; now that scared me. I actually liked the way they felt on me. They were snug, but not overly restrictive and soft too. Coupled with the feeling of the tights that seemed to hug my legs in a way that was not only gently supportive but also reassuringly comfortable–I was totally messed up.
I told myself it shouldn’t be happening, and as I looked in the mirror, I was disgusted with what I saw. Sadly, it wasn’t because I looked like a boy in a skirt and tights, but because it didn’t look as out of place as I thought it should and that was what scared me.
“This isn’t happening,” I muttered again as I gave the tights another pull, feeling the fabric creep up my legs in a way that kind of made me shiver–in a nice way. I shook my head, thinking how none of this should be happening then smoothed down the skirt and went back to the girls’ bedroom.
“That’s better,” Jessica said gleefully, clapping her hands together.
I was really beginning to hate her and snorted my disapproval, which was ignored by the others. They fussed around, tugging here and there to make me look as ‘right’ as possible, then stood back to admire their handiwork, asking me to turn on the spot.
“Not bad, but I think it’s a bit too ordinary,” said Jessica critically. “And we really need to do something about–” she pointed at me and I had no idea what she was talking about. “Those.”
I suddenly realised, looking at them, that up top, I was as flat as a pancake–or rather, two. Whilst theirs weren’t exactly fully formed, they at least had definition. “Oh shit,” I said, knowing what was coming.
“Take the t-shirt off and let’s fix that,” Jessica said.
This was all going too far. I folded my arms and stood firm. “No way,” I told them as assertively as I could, while my head was actually wondering what it would be like to put a bra on. Sometimes I wonder whose side my brain is on.
CLICK!
“You did not just do that,” I said, horrified at the sight of the camera in Jess’s hands.
“Call it insurance,” she said. “Anyway, come on little sister. Don’t go all shy on us now.”
“Little sister?” I squealed, my voice going well into the upper registers quite possibly worrying nearby dogs.
“Have you seen yourself?” she asked.
“Or heard yourself?” added Christine, with a big grin and laughter from Megan.
I blushed to the roots of my hair and wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
“Come on, Jamie. You’ve come this far.”
That was of little comfort. I was bewildered and cornered too. I had to do what they wanted or either I wouldn’t get to see those cool rides or worse and I really didn’t want to go there.
“This is it. After this, I’m going back to my room, right?” I told them and it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. The trouble was, they didn’t seem to see it that way and as soon as they had my top off, they put me in a bra, which they stuffed with some socks. That should have been the end of it, but I wound up being given a pair of Jessica’s shoes as well; a pair of wedgy sandals.
“They’re no good,” said Megan critically. “Like, no-one would wear those shoes with those tights.”
“You’re right. Take them off.”
My mood was going downhill rapidly here and I went to go to the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“To take these stupid tights off.”
“Why? We’re all girls here.”
Those predatory looks returned, especially from Jess and I plonked myself down on the bed, kicking off the sandals and wriggling my way out of the tights, trying not to pull down or show the knickers in the process.
“Her legs aren’t too bad,” Christine proclaimed. “I expect we can get away without shaving them.”
You have absolutely no idea how much better that made me feel. Despite being dressed like one of my sinister’s friends–or even her, not having to shave my legs, let alone letting one or all of them do it was like music to my ears.
“She needs something else,” said Jess, rubbing her chin thoughtfully then clicked her fingers. “I know; her denim jacket.” She ran out of the room and was back moments later with my jacket.
I put it on.
CLICK! went the camera again.
“You really are pushing it. You know that, don’t you?” I growled, trying to snatch the camera from her. “Give that to me.”
She sidestepped easily and my hand just flew through the air harmlessly.
“Not a hope, kiddo. That’s more insurance.”
Next came the makeup–despite protestations and a fair amount of effort to get away. I ended up being held in place by Jess and Megan, pinned to the chair, sullen and pouting–for all the good it did–silently planning slow, painful deaths for each of them, whilst Chris applied makeup.
They seemed to be taking forever and when I noticed the light outside was fading pretty quickly, I began getting fractious. “Hurry up,” I told them in my no-nonsense voice. “I still want to have a look round outside.” It was about nine and I was determined to get out of there–even if only for a few minutes before the light went altogether.
“I don’t think so,” said Megan. “It’s teeming down.”
I looked out and sure enough the rain was pelting down; too hard to go nosing around, anyway.
“Well thanks very much,” I said, really pissed-off by this time, well, actually more pissed-off at myself than at them. It could have been raining for ages, but I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t hear it because of Gary Barlow and the others wailing away on the CD.
“There’s no need to be like that. Mum said, don’t argue or give me any jip,” Jessica parroted, in an imperious tone that only she can do.
“Which meant, don’t piss you and your friends off, not do everything you say. Now if you don’t mind–” With that, I was about to storm out, when Megan said something.
“What?” I asked, somewhat startled. I didn’t know what she said, but I know what I thought she said and it didn’t sound good.
“I said; two peas in a pod.”
That’s what I thought she said and even Jess did a double take at that one.
“We are not!” she said with more vehemence than I think I have ever heard from her. I thought she was about to throw a temper tantrum. She then turned and looked at me like she was mentally ripping my head off my shoulders.
“Hey hang on,” I said. “Don’t look at me like that. Do you think I want to look like you? I’m your brother and yet you seem to be more interested in making me out to be some sort of pervert who’s only interested in looking more like his sister.
“But you don’t need to, do you? You’re the popular one. You’re the one with all the friends and you’re the one who’s accepted by just about everyone, not me.
“Thanks to you I get ‘girly-boy’ and ‘gay’ comments; the ‘Oh I’m sorry, I thought you were the good-looking one’, or the ‘Here’s the other sister’, or the best one: ‘did you forget your skirt today?’ do you?
“So don’t look at me as if I’m the one in the wrong. I didn’t ask for this, did I? You’re the one who wanted this,” I said, gesturing down my body while fighting to hold back tears. “You’re the one who spent the whole trip here making things difficult for me and what have I done? All I want to do is go to Aston Park and you’re doing your best to make sure that doesn’t happen. Yet I don’t see you not going horse riding with your friends here. Just leave me alone–all of you.”
Jess’s face was as hard as stone, yet in her eyes I could see she knew I was right.
Megan looked like she wished she hadn’t said anything.
“Oh that’s lush,” said Christine, suddenly breaking a very stony silence.
“What?” asked Christine, opening her hands with a shrug “Megan’s right. You do look very much alike. Not completely identical, but it’s obvious you’re twins.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” I said, still getting daggers from Jess.
The next thing we knew, that the rain really came down hard, so hard it was drumming thrash metal on the roof and through the window the droplets appeared to be about the size of small family cars. We all ran downstairs to the lounge with its big bay windows, overlooking the decking. At that point, it was coming down so hard we could barely see the gravel driveway, let alone the cliff edge.
“That’s not rain, that’s a bloody monsoon,” Megan observed.
“Yeah; and look at all that water out there,” Christine added. “It’s like a lake.”
“That’s the English Channel,” said Jess, helpfully.
“Not that,” Christine said, frowning. “There!”
The level ground between us and the cliffs was now a lake, the surface boiling with the falling rain. It looked deep too.
Lightning flashed and the accompanying thunder literally shook the place.
The girls shrieked and immediately huddled together, trembling.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I said, irritably. “It’s just a bit of thunder and lightning. It’s nothing to be scared of.” I almost believed it too, or would have, had the next clap of thunder and accompanying lightning bolt not coincided with the lights flickering ominously throughout the cottage, then going out, plunging us into an eerie kind of half-light.
The girls shrieked again.
I just stared out of the window. The sound of the rain was so loud, it was impossible to talk over. In fact, torrential didn’t even come close, we thought it was going to pound its way through the roof.
None of us moved as we were too busy concentrating on what was going on outside. If we thought the rain had been coming down hard, it was nothing compared to now. The pounding got louder and we couldn’t even see the lake that had formed outside, which couldn’t have been more than ten feet from the window.
Suddenly, with another flash of lightning and peal of thunder, there seemed to be a kind of rumbling.
“What’s that?” asked Jess, her voice all a-quiver.
I had no idea. I suppose it could have been a distant rolling of thunder, but it felt too close and more to the point, if it had been that distant, why was everything vibrating?
The vibrating was joined with a strange creaking sound, something like an old door in some horror film as it opened. Worse, it was getting louder. With a ‘CRACK!’ and the sound of glass splintering and shattering, the rumbling was joined with a sloughing sound–but from inside.
Christine and Jess dropped to the sofa, but Megan nearly jumped out of her skin, taking an involuntary step forward and clinging tightly to me, her arms locked tightly round my waist.
“I’m scared,” she said, looking up at me.
“I know how you feel,” I replied. “I’m going to see what’s happening. You three stay here.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Megan, releasing her vice-like grip from my waist, only to move it to my left hand, both hands wrapped around my wrist, threatening to cut off all circulation. I didn’t have the time to argue. Megan and I set off slowly down the hallway where the sound of the creaking and sloughing got louder.
As we neared the kitchen, we could hear the sound of furniture being moved. The sloughing sound was more of a rumbling hiss and as we got to the door, we could see a huge brown-coloured mass sliding across the floor, pushing the kitchen table before it.
I opened the door to see more, but it was slammed shut before I could really get an idea of what was happening. I wasn’t sure whether what I’d seen was what I thought it was and although both Megan and I pushed with all our might, we couldn’t budge the door.
“Jamie, look!” Megan exclaimed.
Muddy brown liquid seeped from underneath the kitchen door as we stood there and the creaking and groaning got louder, replaced with splintering sounds that as soon as they started, were cut off.
“We have to get out of here,” I said, grimly.
“But we can’t go outside,” Megan said, shocked.
“Just get the others,” I told her. Her hands, which had re-clamped themselves around my wrist after we’d tried pushing at the kitchen door didn’t relax. I looked at her.
Those hazel eyes, usually so full of mischief, now showed deep fear. I wanted to shout; bark the order to run, but I knew right there that it wouldn’t have the right effect. It would probably frighten Megan even more.
“Look, it’ll be alright. I promise,” I told her gently. “Now, go get Christine and Jess and get out of here as quickly as you can.”
With tear-filled eyes and an almost puppy-dog look of trust, she nodded and her grip relaxed as she backed away slowly.
“Promise?” she asked, her voice quivering.
“I promise.”
I stood in the hallway wondering what it was I was supposed to do when the kitchen door began creaking. Splits appeared in the panels and through those splits, more brown stuff oozed. The door bowed more and the oozing liquid began seeping through, like it was bleeding. I ran for it, just getting out of the way before the door gave one last ear-splitting crack, the house shook violently and the hallway began filling with the viscose liquid.
“GET OUT NOW!!” I yelled, heading for the front door, nearly knocking Megan, Christine and Jess over in the process.
Outside, the rain was coming down so hard, it stung. Megan had taken her now customary place by my side, hanging on to my arm for dear life. Before any thought of what was happening had time to sink in, the wooden structure seemed to keel over backwards, falling flat upon itself like a sodden cardboard box collapsing in the rain, proceeding thereafter to slide across the lawn towards the drive.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Jess.
The rest of them just stood soaking wet in the rain, calf-deep in water, with their mouths open.
Was there anyone next door? I asked myself, blinking as within seconds, the house we had occupied for all of about three hours, was being pushed towards the cliff’s edge by what had now become apparent as a surging torrent of mud.
“Megan. I need you to get to the office with Jess and Chris. I don’t know if they know what’s happening.”
“What about you?” she asked, her grip tightening.
“I need to check these other cabins.”
“I’m not going without you.”
“Alright then,” I said, looking at Jess. “You two get back to the office as quickly as you can. We’ll check the other cabins.”
“Can’t we all do that?” asked Jess. “I’d feel a lot safer if we were all together.”
“Me too,” echoed Chris.
I knocked on the door to the first cabin and found no-one there. The same for the second, but I got a response upon knocking on the door of the third. Slowly the door opened a few inches and a deeply lined face appeared about two thirds of the way up the door.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Jamie from the cabin at the end. I need you to come outside.”
“Where’s Deirdre?”
“I expect she’s organising the emergency services,” I said, the rain dripping from everywhere that was pointing downwards on me and presuming Deirdre was the owner’s wife. “Look, you’re in terrible danger. Our cabin has already collapsed and is heading towards the edge of the cliffs; it looks like yours may be heading that way too. You have to come with me–quickly.”
“’Ere, Martha. There’s a bunch-a girls here. Says we got to get out–Martha?”
“Yes, please be quick. Your cottage’s already starting to slide. There isn’t much time.”
The old man stepped out of the doorway and despite the driving rain, saw that our cottage was indeed moving.
“Come on Martha,” he said, shuffling back to wherever Martha was.
I was getting progressively more agitated as I watched our cottage being swept towards the cliff edge and gasped as part of the roof slithered over.
“Hurry!” I shouted.
Moments later, the old man led an even slower Martha towards the door and out on the step.
They had just reached the grass when Martha suddenly shrieked.
“Joey,” she cried. “Where’s my Joey?” She turned and battled against the old man to try and get up the stairs.
“Who’s Joey?” I asked the old man.
“It’s the damned cat.”
“Get Martha out of here. I’ll get the cat.”
“But he won’t come to you, love. He won’t even come for me an’ I’ve known it all its flea-bitten life.”
“He’s not ‘flea-bitten’, you daft old codger,” grumbled Martha. “It’s no wonder he won’t even give you house room.”
I ignored the old couple who continued to bicker and turned to Jess and the others.
“Get them up to the office and hurry. I don’t know as this is going to stay put much longer.” I ran into the cottage. I could hear it creaking as the pressure on the back of it increased, knowing too that it wouldn’t be long before it succumbed to the wave of mud that was sliding down the hill.
“Here, Kitty,” I said, making kissing noises. “Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty–”
A small “meow” came from behind the sofa and gently, I pulled it away from the wall, coming face to face with a huge ginger Tom cat, that didn’t look in the least bit pleased to see me.
“Come on then,” I said, trying to coax the feline foot-warmer towards me, but all it seemed to want to do was back or run away.
After chasing it round the lounge a couple of times… well, alright, a number of times, I eventually got it cornered, lunged and caught the fur-bag, which earned me a number of scratches on my hands and arms and a rather nasty bite to the finger.
It was just as well I caught it. I could see the cabin’s walls moving and needed to get out damned quick or could end up floating across to France with this flea-bitten rat-bag scratching and biting me the whole way there, or squished beneath its fallen timbers.
“You little shit!” I exclaimed as I stepped out into the rain after another bite. “Oh, gross.” I’d landed in a sea of dark brown muddy water, which I could feel squelching between my toes. The cat struggled even more to get away from me and was making some pretty horrific noises in the process. If anyone heard it over the sound of the weather, they probably would have sworn I was treating him cruelly rather than trying to rescue him. It was obviously a typical cat and didn’t like water one bit.
I looked back along the path where our cabin had been, then back the other way, seeing a veritable river of mud coming towards me. It looked to me like the mudslide had forked, catching our cabin and the one next to it and the three cabins after the one I’d got the cat from.
There was no alternative in my mind. I had to go behind the cabin I’d just come out of and try getting back to the office that way. The cat meanwhile made growling sounds and squirmed as I struggled to keep him safe in my arms, despite the pounding rain.
I stepped around the side of the cabin, trying hard to keep my footing as it didn’t seem to matter whether the mudslide had got to that point or not, the rainwater definitely had and the ground was about as soggy… well, you get the picture.
I felt I was making good progress, too until the little sod in my arms clawed at me again with a terrifying yowl. The dripping ball of pointy bits tore at my flesh as I slithered and slipped in the mud. I tried tightening my grip on him, but he just squirmed and scratched at me harder. After a well placed jab with a needle-sharp claw, I flinched, let go and off he went.
“COME BACK HERE!” I yelled, but of course, that wasn’t going to entice that ball of sharp-bits to me now was it? “Shit!” I exclaimed, stomping my foot and splashing muddy water right up the inside of my leg. I chased after it, knowing that the two old folks whose cat it was would be devastated if I didn’t get it back to them.
I watched the soggy fur-ball as it headed towards the gorse bushes that seemed to fill in behind the drive, ducking under a particularly thick outcrop and disappearing out of sight.
It’s fortunate that I’m as small as I am, otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to scramble under there after it. I wriggled out of my jacket and edged towards the feline monster, making nice noises as far as I was able. It edged back, growling ominously, but I managed to trap it under my jacket.
I crawled out from under the bush covered in mud and I could feel the scratches down the back of my head and neck from the gorse, which seemed to take my mind off the scratches and bites I had already sustained trying to save the ungrateful ginger bastard.
I stood up, rain still coursing down my face, with a two-tone blue bundle in my arms that by this time, was making pretty horrendous-sounding noises and trying its damndest to escape–no change there then.
“Not this time, you little bugger,” I told it.
I looked about me, standing on what amounted to a small promontory with a veritable river of mud rumbling past on either side. It wasn’t looking good as I may well have been safe from the mud’s path, but there was no guarantee it was going to stay that way. The rain was still hacking down and visibility was appalling, but I couldn’t stay where I was. The cat was quieter, although I had to concentrate as every now and again he’d squirm, kick or something to challenge the grip I had on him. I considered jumping across, but the ground was so slippery, I wasn’t sure about that at all.
Suddenly, a tree complete with roots came into view, rolling as the river of muck and goodness-knows-what, carried it towards the cliff edge. I knew this was likely to be my only chance and made ready to leap.
The Gods of good fortune must have been smiling down on me that day as just before I made ready to make the jump, the tree got snagged on something which stopped it.
“Please don’t move, cat,” I whispered to the bundle and took off.
I very nearly slipped off the tree’s trunk as I planted one very muddy and soggy sandal just long enough and secure enough to propel me off the other side to the grass beneath the big house.
I looked back in time to see the tree, free now from whatever had snagged it as it headed down river out of sight. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, blew some of the dripping water from my lips, took a deep breath and headed back to the office.
Inside, there were more people than I was expecting. The first time we’d gone into the office, it had been empty and it didn’t seem as if there was anyone else around, but now, there must have been ten people. Most of them were straining to see out the windows when I arrived.
“What’s going on?” I asked and at that precise moment, the cat squirmed, poking its head from within its denim wrappings. Then it squawked, spat, swiped at me and leapt just as something hit me at about mach six, knocking me about three steps backwards.
“Oh Jamie–Jamie. Thank God you’re alright.”
I blinked a couple of times as rainwater dripped from me and looked at what had hit me–Jess, closely followed by Megan, who for some reason only knew one place to be–on my arm.
“Um–who are you and what have you done with my sister?” I asked–yeah I know, I nabbed that from Harry Potter, but hey, it fitted and it’s rare for me to be so quick off the mark.
“I–I–that is, we were concerned, Jamie. We saw Martha’s cabin slip over the cliff–”
“I know. I only just got out of it in time.”
“I thought that because we didn’t see you coming up the drive, you went with it,” she said, with a distinct catch in her voice as real tears ran down her face.
“It’s okay, Jess. I had to go a different way,” I said and gave her a big hug, while looking daggers at Joey, who was busy trying to lick himself dry. “There was no choice. I couldn’t get up the drive.”
She broke away and slapped me hard on the shoulder.
“Well don’t ever do that again. You scared the crap out of me!” She gave me another hug and by the time she’d finished, the old man and Martha had shuffled across the floor, Martha struggling somewhat with Joey, the cat, who even from where I was, looked most put out and bedraggled–two things I don’t think any cat is particularly happy with.
“Well, Missy,” the old man said, his head bowed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay,” I told them, shrugging.
“Pah!” he spat. “Okay? Just okay? You saved our lives is what you did. Thank you seems so ungrateful.”
“Please,” I said, getting very embarrassed. “I’m just glad we got there in time.”
“So are we, pretty lady,” he said, enveloping me in his stout arms and squeezing me hard enough to crush all the breath out of me. “So are we.”
I was happy when a petite blonde lady came across and introduced herself as Deirdre, Frank–the owner’s–wife. “I think that’s enough for now,” she said authoritatively. “These girls are all wet through and could do with some dry clothes.
The idea of dry clothes was a relief for me, especially since what I was wearing was pretty torn up, soaked or just plain covered in mud after my encounters with the mudslide, several gorse bushes and shit-head, the wonder puss.
What I was wearing.
It was the first time I’d really had the time to even think about it.
Since the mudslide had started–or at least, we knew we were right in its path, it had been foot to the floor, ninety miles an hour–until now. Now, I was suddenly very aware of not only what I was wearing, but of how people had been referring to me.
Perhaps part of it was due to being somewhat used to being referred to in the feminine at school. It was water off a duck’s back, but this duck was soggy, wet through and now the water was beginning to penetrate.
The strangest thing was that I wasn’t in the least bit uncomfortable–least not with the clothes. The skirt was just like wearing baggy shorts, the t-shirt was pretty unisex anyway and the undies? Well after a while, you don’t even notice them unless you think about them and I hadn’t had a second to think about them since we first left the cabin.
Of course, now the situation changed, I was acutely aware of my clothing–or rather, Jess’s and also what we would do about later, tomorrow and, oh God, what about Mum and Dad? They were going to have collective apoplexy.
Deirdre led all four of us through a door into the main house. “Leave your shoes by the door,” she said and waited to lead us upstairs to the main bathroom. She left us to get some towels.
“What the hell am I going to do?” I asked.
“Don’t do anything,” Jess advised. “Deirdre’s none the wiser, none of them are. What does it matter?”
“It matters a lot!” I blurted. “I’m not supposed to be wearing a skirt or those sandals and I’m certainly not supposed to be wearing your bra or knickers. What am I going to do?”
We all shut up when Deirdre reappeared with an armload of big, soft, fluffy towels. “I’ll fetch you some clothes,” she said. “I should have something for you to wear by the time you’re clean and dry. My daughter left some stuff here, which might fit Chris and I’m sure I’ve go something for the rest of you.” With that, she turned away and left us to it.
“See?” I hissed.
“See what?” asked Jess.
“Now I’m going to have to wear even more girly clothes.”
“It’s not like you don’t look okay though is it?” Jess observed.
That was a bit of a shock. Just before we went downstairs in the cabin to see the rain, she seemed more upset than pleased. I didn’t know what I was; whether I was pleased that I sort of fitted or displeased because I’m supposed to be a boy, nor did I know whether the worry was more because I did seem to drop into femininity far too easily. “That’s not the point,” I retorted, folding my arms and huffing, more because I think I felt I should have been complaining, than there was anything to really complain about. Yes it’s true I wasn’t being treated like the boy I should have been, but at the same time, there was nothing I could do about the situation. I had to just go with the flow. Something else I couldn’t let on to Jess about.
Jess showered first then I followed suit and when I emerged, handing the bathroom over to Chris and Megan, Jess was in the spare bedroom sifting through a large pile of clothes, mainly sportswear.
She handed me a pair of knickers and offered to help with a bra, for which I was extremely grateful, but when it came to finding other stuff, the choice was a little limited.
The girls tried their best to help out with what to put me in so I wouldn’t attract any unnecessary attention, but it wasn’t working out so well. There was a pair of denim Capri pants, which didn’t accentuate the fact that down below, I had more outer parts than I should have had, but did require me to tuck everything up.
That wasn’t the worst of it.
“You’ll have to shave your legs from your knees down.” Jess said, very matter-of-factly.
“What?” I almost wet myself.
“Look, we tried you in the other stuff, but we don’t have anything to disguise you. You don’t have a choice and will have to wear those Capri pants, but you’ll have to shave your legs.”
“I didn’t before,” I said, somewhat confused.
“You weren’t under such scrutiny then, were you?”
“I’m not under scrutiny now, am I?”
“You will be when we go back downstairs,” she said and as I looked at my sister and the other girls, I couldn’t see the expressions that were there before when they were tormenting me. This time I got the distinct impression they really were trying to help.
“Look, you’re going to have to play this through. It’s mostly our fault and we’ll help as best we can, but you have to play along.”
In the next chapter: Horses for Courses…
I get a crash course in equine maintenance, news crews descend when word gets out and Mum and Dad are stuck with a broken-down car–which I had nothing to do with…
This time, I get a crash course in equine maintenance, news crews descend when word gets out and Mum and Dad are stuck with a broken-down car–which I had nothing to do with…
My thanks to the most beaudacious Gabi for staying up late yesterday to edit this–even though it didn’t matter because she was able to slob out all day today.
“Where are you going?!” I asked, as Jess and Chris were about to leave.
“Downstairs,” Jess replied with a shrug. “You’re alright now. You know what to do.”
I didn’t know what to do. I’d never shaved anything before–not even my face–so I didn’t have a clue and thanks mainly to the shock of Jess’s sudden departure, Megan and I were left standing dumbfounded; looking at one another and then at the empty space left by the other two.
“So much for the help I was promised,” I muttered, sourly.
I shouldn’t have been surprised at Jess. She’d always been that way. She was full of promises, yet rarely managed to come through on any of them. The trouble was, so often I’d tried to be strong and vow never to believe her again, only to find that she did exactly what she said she would, leaving me feeling guilty and in trouble. Then when I did help, she didn’t come through on her promises–which got me in trouble again.
I’m sure that’s why Mum and Dad were the way they were with me. I seemed to attract their attention at the wrong times and I’m, whilst I’m sure Jess wasn’t bright enough to orchestrate things that way; that’s the way fate took them. Nevertheless, more often than not, I was the one on the receiving end.
“Yeah. Looks like it’s just you and me,” said Megan with a sigh.
I wasn’t sure whether the sigh was because she didn’t really want to be stuck with me or whether it was a sigh of resignation–a sort of here we go again. Whatever the reason, she stayed and for that I was profoundly grateful–even though I didn’t want to shave my bloody legs in the first place and would have been happy leaving them exactly the way they were.
“Come on then, whip ‘em off,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s get those legs smooth.”
Nervously, I dropped the jeans, afraid of showing myself to Megan, but I needn’t have worried because fortunately, the t-shirt I’d been given was fairly long and reached well past my parts, saving any embarrassment. Not that Megan could have seen anything anyway, as it was all tucked away neatly between my legs, with my knickers pulled up as tight as I could without sending my voice into an even higher register or doing permanent damage.
“I’m glad you stayed,” I told her. “I haven’t got a clue.”
“What’s going to happen when you have to shave your face?” she asked as I put the jeans on the toilet lid.
She handed me a can of shaving foam and I gave her a Paddington hard stare, poking my tongue out before lathering my legs and getting ready with the disposable razor.
She giggled and I smiled. Somehow, no matter what Megan said to me, it never seemed spiky.
I drew the razor slowly up one leg.
“Okay, now rinse the razor and get rid of all the hairs,” she instructed. “And not quite so slow next time.”
Dutifully I did as I was told and after a few pulls, followed each time by rinsing the razor and expelling what hairs were there, I figured I’d got the hang of things, but then, it’s never that simple is it?
I managed to nick my ankle, which was surprisingly painful and for such a tiny cut, produced copious quantities of blood.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed.
It reminded me of the scene in Blade: Trinity where Jessica Beil alias Whistler’s daughter, was in the shower. You could actually see blood running down the drain as she sat there, staring into nothingness. Well, that’s almost what it looked like for me too, only I didn’t look anything like Jessica Beil–still don’t.
“Well don’t go down that far,” Megan suggested, with a stern look. “Look, you can see where the hairline is.” She touched my leg just above the ankle and moved her fingers up and down from the hairless area to the slightly less hairless area as she stared into my eyes.
Now that was curious. I wasn’t expecting her to touch me anywhere, least of all on my bare leg and the sensation I got from it was something else. I was actually pleased that I was wearing knickers and my important not-so-soft bits were neatly–albeit painfully–tucked out of sight. I blushed immediately and she snatched her hand back.
“You’ll have to straighten your legs now,” she said after I’d finished the calves and shins. “You’re going to have to do up to just above your knees. It’ll be messy and painful if you don’t straighten your legs.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Well, if you don’t straighten your legs, you’re likely to catch yourself and do more damage than you’ve already caused and if you don’t shave there, the hairs will poke out from under your Capris and that’ll look absolutely awful.”
I rolled my eyes, wondering how I managed to get in so deep so quickly, but stood up, straightened my legs and continued. Despite the straight leg and care I was taking, I still managed to cut behind my right knee. That stung even more than the ankle.
“How do you girls manage to do this without slicing rashers off yourselves every time?” I asked.
“Practice,” she replied with a grin.
“And no loss of body-parts?” I was amazed.
“Your dad doesn’t cut his lips off every time he shaves, does he?”
“What? With an electric razor? I would hope not.”
“Yes, well,” Megan said. “To be honest, it’s not that unusual for us to nick ourselves every now and then. Now, come on; we need to stop that bleeding.”
Personally, I think she was just being kind about the fact that I’d nicked myself, but once the flow of claret had been staunched, it didn’t look too bad and the only cut that actually showed was the one on my ankle.
I was about to head downstairs when Megan stopped me.
“Let’s have a look at you,” she said, her hands on my shoulders and looking me up and down critically. “Hang on a sec.”
To my absolute surprise, she slipped her hands up under my t-shirt to my bra, jiggling things about on both sides before removing them–her hands, I mean.
“Do you always shove your hands up girl’s t-shirts and grapple with their boobs?” I asked, my face red.
“No!“ she exclaimed, her eyes wide. “But anyway, you’re not a girl and those aren’t boobs.”
Did I detect a note of disappointment in her voice?
And was I slightly disappointed too?
That was the second time Megan had touched me and it was in a way that I fervently wished could have been more. I was having all sorts of trouble getting my head round just how different I would have liked it.
Let’s just say that the touch on the leg was nice, but getting my ‘boobs’ adjusted was something else and I wished that they were real, just to see what it would feel like.
I had to stop and think about what I had just thought: it wasn’t me thinking–like Andy would have–what it would be like to cop a feel of a girl’s tits, but what it would feel like to have someone feel my tits.
Oh dear.
I was confused to say the least.
I shouldn’t have been thinking any of this as none of it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to be looking forward to a holiday with a grand day out at Aston Park, riding on the coolest rides in England–amongst other things and continuing to wind my sister up.
Instead, there I was, dressed from head to toe in girl’s clothes, wondering what it would be like for someone to feel me up, getting hot and bothered about one of my sister’s friends, who I wasn’t sure, but felt, was getting just as hot and bothered about me.
Dear, oh dear.
“You alright?” Megan asked.
“I suppose so,” I replied, but I wasn’t sure.
Downstairs, we met Deirdre as she was coming out of the office.
She wasn’t much taller than either Megan or me and was very slight. Kind of weird I thought, because Frank was quite big and burly and must have been over six feet tall. Dad’s about six feet and although I didn’t really pay much attention in the office when we arrived, I think Frank was taller.
The thought of such a small woman with such a big man was quite amusing, but then I thought about Mum, who is only an inch or two taller than Jess and me too, so I suppose that’s how it goes.
She looked me up and down and smiled. “They look good on you.”
“Thanks for letting me wear them.”
“Keep ’em–and the other stuff,” she said. “None of it fits me anymore.”
“You sure?”
“No probs,” she said. “I was hoping that I’d get thin and they’d fit again, but…”
“Oh come on. You’re hardly any bigger than me,” I said, astonished.
“You’re sweet, but look at you. Your bum wouldn’t look big in anything. I envy you your figure.”
The conversation had got to the surreal stage and I found myself feeling proud of my figure, even though I knew I wasn’t a girl. The compliment though struck a chord and when I turned to look at Megan–who was smiling–it just reinforced it.
“Still, you’re young. You’re supposed to have a killer figure.”
Killer figure? If I wasn’t confused before this conversation–which I was–I was bound to be after it–and I was.
“Any word from Mum and Dad?” I asked, clicking my head back into some form of normality.
“The ’phones lines are down, so, no, but you’re welcome to try my mobile.”
“Thanks,” I replied and we waited in the hall while she went to retrieve her ’phone.
For the few moments she was gone, I stood wondering what on earth I was doing. Looking at Megan didn’t help. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat and I didn’t know whether it was because she felt the situation was amusing, or whether there was something else there; something I needed to find out about, but before I had the chance to ask, Deirdre was back.
“I don’t know how you can remember those long numbers,” she said, handing the mobile to me. “I have to add my friends to the contacts list, or I don’t stand a chance.” She laughed and left Megan and I to make our call.
I dialled the number and waited.
“The number you are calling is either switched off or is not receiving a signal,” said a helpful recording at the other end. “To leave a message, please speak after the tone…”
“Hi, Mum, Dad? It’s Jamie. Hope you’re both alright. We’ve had a bit of a mudslide on top of the flooding here; I expect that’s why you’re not back. We’re all okay, but we’re staying with Frank and Deirdre now. I’ll explain it when you get here. Love you.”
I closed the phone.
“Guess we’ll just have to wait.”
“Everything alright?” Deirdre asked, bustling out of the kitchen.
“Either there’s no signal or they’ve turned the phone off,” I said. “I left a message.”
“Do they know the number to call you back?”
“It’ll be on their ’phone,” I replied, handing hers back.
“Really?”
“Yes. It automatically stores the number and you can just select it to call back.”
“Well I never,” the astonished Deirdre replied. “I suspect you do all that ‘texting’ at lightning speed too, don’t you? I have enough trouble just ’phoning people on the damned thing.” She shook her head. “Still it’s a necessary evil when you’re running a business.” She looked at the mobile and then slipped it into the pocket of her pinafore.
“We’ve had a few more people turn up since you went to shower and change. They’ve been caught out by the flash flooding, not to mention the mudslide, so Frank and I decided to let them stay in the office and at least give them somewhere warm and dry to stay. They won’t be going anywhere until it’s cleared. Mum and Dad have been chatting to them all in the office and it was the Devil’s own job to get them out of there. Meanwhile, we ought to eat.”
“D’you need a hand?” I asked, figuring that in my current guise, being in the kitchen with Deirdre would be vastly better than being in amongst all those people.
“Well, you really are the heroine, aren’t you?” she replied, grinning broadly. “Come on in. I can use all the help I can get.”
Once again, I quickly forgot about how I was dressed. I know it sounds a little weird, but when there’s no-one around drawing your attention to it, it’s surprising how speedily you can forget that you’re wearing a stuffed bra and knickers.
However, I couldn’t forget my shaved legs; every time they brushed against each other, I could feel it, and boy, was it distracting. Then again, so was Megan. I was shocked at how she made me feel; the way she made my heart pump faster without doing anything–just being there. What with her and my legs, I was surprised I managed to stay as focussed as I did–which isn’t saying much.
During dinner, I kept as low a profile as possible. Joe and Martha kept giving me grateful looks across the table and I just tried to smile sweetly. Fortunately, Megan sat beside me, which made me feel better and less exposed.
Jess and Chris had found two boys to go all cow-eyed over and were more animated than I had seen in a while, which as luck would have it, distracted the others sufficiently that, aside from the stares, I was pretty much left alone.
While Jess and Chris weren’t talking, Frank, Deirdre, Joe and Martha discussed the new arrivals.
“We can’t just leave them in there,” said Deirdre.
“What do you suggest?” Frank asked.
“We have to at least give them something to drink,” she replied.
“I think they’d appreciate something warm inside them too,” Martha added, accompanied by nods from Joe.
“Alright, alright,” said Frank. “We’ll get something together after we’ve finished here.”
“Good. Do I still have my assistants?”
Megan and I smiled and nodded.
“And I expect our lovesick pair here would be only too pleased to take their two beaus something to eat, wouldn’t they?”
“I’m not lovesick,” Jess argued.
“Cow-eyed?” I offered.
“You can talk–” she retorted, but cut herself short. “I’m not cow-eyed or love-sick.”
“We’re neither cow-eyed nor love-sick,” Christine affirmed.
It all seemed to have been taken in good part and after we’d finished eating, it was straight into high gear since Deirdre and Frank weren’t set up for catering for large numbers and it was a case of everything being done in shifts.
First we had to wash all the stuff we’d used before we could set about dealing with those in the office. So from the time we started–and don’t ask what time that was–till the early hours of the morning, we didn’t stop. By the time it came to turning in for the night, Megan and I were pretty much dead on our feet.
The four of us were shown to a spare bedroom–after a lengthy good night between Chris, Jess and the two boys, whilst the others were all left to try and stay as comfortable as possible in the office.
Our bedroom had a double bed, but there was no way I was getting in with the others–I mean, it’s just not right, is it? I wouldn’t have minded cuddling up with Megan, but well, right there and then, I was just pleased to be getting my head down. I didn’t even bother to strip. I just took off my Capris and slid under the covers of the makeshift bed on the floor. I was asleep in no time.
The next morning, I woke up with someone’s arm draped over my chest and for a while, couldn’t seem to get my bearings. As you can imagine, the events of the previous night were so unexpected that I thought I’d been dreaming. As soon as I opened my eyes however, I realised that it was far from a dream.
I looked to my right and surprise, surprise; guess who had slipped in beside me?
With her eyes closed and the slow rhythm of her breathing, I got a severe case of the collywobbles as I gazed at Megan’s sleeping form and that pretty elfin face. The house was still quiet and I snuggled back down. As I turned over, Megan spooned in behind me, pulling me tight against her with a soft, sweet little moan.
I opened my eyes sometime later only to find myself staring right down the lens of Jess’s camera. Standing behind it with huge grins were Chris and Jess.
“Oy!“ I yelled.
Megan immediately woke and sat bolt upright with a “wassamatter?“.
“Sweet,” said Jess, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “So sweet, don’t you think, Chris?” She raised the camera and took another picture.
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Chris with an equally broad grin. “D’you think we should leave them for a while? I mean, they look so comfortable and–”
“Sweet!“ they chorused, nodding and grinning some more.
“Nah, leave ’em. They’re awake now anyway,” Jess said with a shake of the head.
I checked my watch and discovered it was only just seven; too damned early to consider murder, but a little light maiming would probably have been acceptable.
“You and I are going to have to have a little chat about this,” I said in as much of a warning tone as I could muster.
“Oooooh. Look who like totally woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Jess said with a giggle and skipped out of the bedroom in true ‘Dee Dee’ fashion, followed closely by Chris saying something about breakfast, which took my mind off throttling either of them.
The idea of murder was shelved–not forgotten. However the idea of maiming…
Downstairs was a hive of activity with Deirdre and Frank in the kitchen in the process of getting breakfast ready for us and those unfortunate enough to have been forced to stay the night in the Cliffside office.
I wanted to help in the kitchen, but before I could offer a preference, I was asked to take a tray of hot drinks and some rounds of toast into the office.
“Thanks,” said a dishevelled-looking woman. “I expect you’re one of the owner’s daughters, aren’t you?”
“Actually, no,” I said. “I’m here on holiday with my family. We were staying in one of the log cabins–sorry ‘cottages’, but it got swept away in a mudslide yesterday during the storm.”
“Oh my God!” she said, her eyes going wide. “I heard about that last night. So you’re the one.”
“I suppose so,” I said with a shrug before I turned and went back into the house.
With the kind of freakish event that occurred yesterday, the mudslide was bound to come up in the conversation quite a lot and I couldn’t entirely avoid it. I didn’t like it though.
Back in the kitchen after about the third run, I was just in time to see Jess and Chris in front of Deirdre, and Jess was not happy.
“We’re supposed to be on holiday,” she said sullenly.
“I know that, Jess, but we could really use your help here.”
Frank looked a little embarrassed and I can’t say as I blame him.
“I think I’ll go tend to the horses,” he said. “Want to help?” he asked Megan, who jumped at the chance. He turned to Jess and Chris. “Perhaps you’d like to come and help when you’ve finished here.”
Jess nodded, but didn’t look happy. “Atta girl,” said Deirdre enthusiastically, placing a plate of hot buttered toast on the tray with several more hot drinks and a freshly filled bowl of sugar. “That’ll have to be the last one, Jamie,” she said. “There isn’t any more until I’ve been to the shops. We were lucky some of those that were here last night decided to take the chance and leave.”
“Right you are,” I replied. “I wondered why I hadn’t seen Jess and Chris’s boyfriends out there.”
“They’ve gone?” asked Jess, incredulous.
“Looks that way,” I said and headed back into the office, only to find a whole lot of new people coming in through the door. Some of them were carrying equipment. I put the tray down on the counter.
“This is it, I’m afraid,” I told them all and was about to leave–sharpish, to avoid any more conversations about last night, but a man in an expensive-looking suit stopped me.
“Do you work here, Miss?”
“No. I’m just helping out. The storm caused a lot of damage, so things aren’t exactly at their best. I’m just lending a hand.”
“Is the owner about?” he asked. “I’d like to talk to him–or her, of course–about the storm.”
“I can get them,” I replied.
As the man with the suit was talking, I could see another man put a camera with a TV news logo on the side up on his shoulder and point it in our direction. I didn’t think it prudent to stay any longer. I beetled off pretty sharpish.
I returned to the kitchen and told Deirdre that the news men were in the office.
“Oh God!” she exclaimed. “You’re not serious are you?”
“‘Fraid so. I got out before they set the cameras rolling.”
“Would you go and get Frank? He’s in the stables with the horses.”
I walked across the yard towards the stables and glanced at my watch. It had gone half past eight and yet there had been no word from Mum and Dad. It was the first time today I’d even thought about them. I wondered what had happened, but more than that, I wondered what would happen when they returned. I wasn’t sure they’d be overjoyed about what had happened to me; that they now had two daughters instead of one–as far as everyone else was concerned anyway.
My heart sank at the thought. I had no choice but to appear to the others the night before as I was. I would have hoped that by today, things would have been put right, but then it occurred to me that even if the cabin hadn’t gone the way it had, how would that have played out?
Firstly, if the cabin hadn’t been squished under all those tons of mud, I wouldn’t have had to parade myself in front of everyone; wouldn’t have been called a heroine and no-one need have been any the wiser.
Secondly, not having been seen by the others wouldn’t have left me facing the dilemma I had currently and now it seemed highly unlikely that even when Mum and Dad got back, I’d be able to just slip back into being Jamie–or rather James, if we stayed here. Too many people thought I was a girl.
I suppose the only good thing was the fact that due to the mudslide, the cabins were unlikely to be rebuilt in time if at all for us to continue our holiday here. That would mean moving on and that gave me hope that I wouldn’t be stuck as ‘Miss’ Jamie Towers for much longer.
I gave Frank the message.
“Oh sh–” he said, covering his mouth and stopping ‘it’ from escaping to join its two friends, ‘S’ and ‘H’. “Sorry. Can you help Megan? You’ll need to walk the horses into the paddock after you’ve finished. I’d best go see what this is all about.”
He disappeared pretty quickly across the yard.
I looked round the stable and saw the horses I was supposed to help groom. My jaw fell open and my eyes were so wide–they looked more like saucers than eyesbut then I saw Megan doubled-over laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You. You wally.”
“What? I don’t know the first thing about horses. About the only thing I know is which end’s the front, which is the back and which way’s up–oh and I also know that one end bites and the other kicks.”
“They’re not that bad,” she said still laughing. “It’ll be easy. Come on, I’ll show you.”
I knew that girls always seemed to go all gooey over horses–least, my sister did, making it all sound so romantic, but I quickly realised that although the word “HORSE” had been included in the sentence, that’s where any semblance of romanticism ended.
They were HUGE and very scary.
“Holy crap!” I breathed.
“They’re not going to be a problem. Just brush them down, comb out the mane and tail, then when we come to walk them to the paddock, attach a lead rope to the halter and walk away with them. I’d say they’ll no doubt follow, but we’ll take them one at a time each, just in case.”
“You sure?” I asked. I wasn’t.
Valentina was the horse I was drawn to and I approached carefully as she was at least, well, twice my height. She was a dapple grey–like the rocking horses–only much, much bigger. Once close to, she looked so big and powerful compared to any animal I’d ever seen before–well that close to anyway.
I reached up and patted her face.
“Nice horsey,” I said, soothingly, in dire peril of poohing my knickers.
Valentina snickered and nuzzled me as I set about brushing her. She was surprisingly appreciative–according to Megan that is. Valentina made a funny face and wiggled her lips when I so much as touched her. Megan said she enjoyed what I was doing.
“Really?” I asked.
“Oh definitely,” said Jess.
“I didn’t know you were there,” I said with some surprise.
“We’ve done all our chores–or should that be your chores, since you were the one who opted to be the domesticated one.”
“That wasn’t my choice and you know it. Not only that, but you know damned well I’m not domesticated. I was just trying to keep out of the way. Besides, if you hadn’t done this to me in the first place, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Huh!” Jess muttered and began looking round the stables at the other three horses. Rupert and Megan were getting on famously and I was perfectly happy with Valentina, but Jess had other ideas.
“That’s a nice mare,” she said.
I stopped brushing and looked warily at my sister. “Yes, she is.”
“She’s maybe a bit big for you, don’t you think?”
“She’ll be no smaller for you,” I said, knowing exactly where this was going.
“No, but I am more experienced. Perhaps you should take the chestnut over there.”
“I don’t think so. Valentina wants me to groom her.” That was a bit of a stretch, but she was gentle; making me feel at ease, despite the fact that she probably weighed in at over half a ton.
“Just give me the brush, numbnuts.”
She snatched the brush from my hand and reached up to begin brushing Valentina’s flank, but the horse simply side-stepped out of the way.
Jess moved closer and since Valentina couldn’t go any further, she moved towards Jess, pushing into her, knocking her to the floor and leaving her sitting on her backside in the wood shavings.
“Bastard!” exclaimed Jess and followed that with a few more choice vituperations that turned the air blue and probably did more to alienate her from Valentina than anything else. I’ll give Jess her due though, she wouldn’t give up and tried several more times, but Valentina wasn’t having any of it.
“Have it your way!” she spat and threw the brush on the ground, storming off towards the chestnut mare in one of the other stalls. I poked my head out of Valentina’s stall and hearing the mouthful from Jess, both Chris and Megan looked out of their stalls too, chuckling as Jess stormed past.
I patted Valentina on the shoulder and told her that the nasty woman had gone away and she responded by snickering in what I considered to be an entirely derisive tone–not that Jess didn’t fully deserve it.
Chris was actually the one who confronted Jess about it. “You’re being a bitch, you know that don’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
From that point on, Jess was as quiet as a mouse and even pleasant when she did speak. I don’t know what Chris meant when she said what she did, but it sure as hell did the trick.
The brushing and combing were something I found therapeutic, for me and undoubtedly for Valentina and when it was all over, Megan and the others called me, about to lead their horses to the paddock.
“Good girl,” I whispered as I clipped the lead rope on the halter and turned to leave the stable.
I started out across the yard, with a little nervousness, but Valentina just strolled along behind me with the obligatory clip-clop of her hooves.
“Hey, Jamie,” Jess shouted from behind me.
I stopped and turned round. Valentina stopped too, turning her head to see what the noise was. Her head rested on my shoulder as she looked across the yard at Jess standing there with her camera.
“Say cheese,” she called and I reached up to put my hand on Valentina’s nose, just as the flash went off.
“Thanks,” said Jess, looking at me in a way I hadn’t seen before and I turned back towards the paddock with the biggest thing I’d ever seen, strolling along sedately behind me.
Once in the paddock, Megan gave me a really curious look.
“Looks like I’ve got competition,” she observed. “She really does like you.”
I stopped and instantly, Valentina nuzzled me again.
“What?” I asked, reaching almost absently to her face, unclipping the lead rope.
“You’ve made a new friend. I hope you haven’t decided to sleep in the stables with her tonight. I’ll feel awfully left out.”
That was pretty direct. I still wasn’t sure what to think about finding Megan cuddled up with me this morning. I assumed it was because the bed was cramped. Maybe not.
“You’re not serious?”
“Well, from where I’m standing, you two seem pretty tight. Is there going to be room for me?”
I was beginning to get the hang of Megan’s sense of humour. She often said things, but managed to keep a completely straight face, even though she didn’t mean what she said. I was about to answer when Deirdre came out of the kitchen.
“Jamie?” she called.
I left the paddock and went over, leaving Megan giggling.
Valentina followed me back across the stable yard.
Deirdre watched as the huge grey mare sauntered along behind me, stopping when I did. “Your mum has just rung. They’re stuck in Marketford since the car broke down. They’ve had it towed to a garage, but apparently, it doesn’t look good.”
“Oh wow. At least it was nothing to do with me this time. Don’t suppose Dad’s pleased.”
“No. Your mum said he was pretty angry. Apparently, he kicked the car after it ground to a halt in the middle of a large puddle. She said he looked like Basil Fawlty.”
“Who?”
“John Cleese?” she said, puzzled that I didn’t recognise the name immediately. “Monty Python? Fawlty Towers, you know–comedy series on television about that hotel in Torquay?”
“No, sorry,” I said, shaking my head.
“Well anyway, the car’s been towed away, but because of the weather and the time of year, getting a hire car is proving difficult. They should have one later this afternoon, but they’re not sure. Then the signal started to break up–not unusual for round here–but I managed to explain about yesterday and the fact you’re staying with us and they’re alright with that. I hope you are too.”
“I think we’ll be alright, in fact I’m sure we will.”
She raised her finger, her expression questioning. “Er, you are planning on leaving my horse here when you leave, aren’t you?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Might do,” I said and, for the first time, giggled, turning back towards the barn with Valentina right beside me. In the background, I could hear Deirdre laughing as she walked back to the kitchen.
I never expected to like horses as much as I did and once we got over the initial thing with Jess and Valentina, I groomed Valentina until she shone–well, maybe not shone exactly, but as near as. Her tail and mane were combed and she looked like something you’d see on the telly somewhere like Hickstead or Badminton with some bloke or woman in a jacket and hat sitting on her back.
One of the things I liked most of all about being with the horses–apart from the Valentina and Jess thing of course, was the fact that all four of us were in the same place at the same time without so much as a bad word. That had to be a first.
We hadn’t long been in the paddock watching the horses and chatting when we got a call from Frank.
You can imagine how I felt when Frank led us to the office and the TV people were still there? I just wanted to turn around and run away. I could feel myself get cold chills and my palms got all sweaty as the four of us entered.
Inside we found the man with the expensive suit, his crew, Joe and Martha and of course, Deirdre.
“Hi,” said the man in the suit. “My name’s Rich Howarth, I expect you’ve seen me on the TV newscasts. I’ve been hearing a lot about your exploits over the last twenty-four hours. I’d like to have a quick chat with you about it.
“Frank has been kind enough to take me round the property so we could take shots of the damage done and I’ve heard a lot about this place from the others who Frank and Deirdre kindly put up for the night, but your story was the one that really got my attention.”
That was it for me. I did not need this. The television programme he was on was broadcast nationally, so that meant that millions of people all round the country would see me.
Admittedly, the vast majority of those people wouldn’t have known me from Adam–or should that be Eve?–but then I wasn’t worried about them anyway. The people I was worried about were the select few who did know me and would make my life a living hell after they’d seen the programme.
“Would you excuse us a minute?” I asked and signalling to Jess, Megan and Chris, I led them outside.
“I can’t do this,” I said.
“What do you mean? It’s not like he knows about you or he’s going to do anything bad,” said Jess.
“Perhaps not, but what about all the people who are going to watch it?” I asked. “All the kids from school… Mum and Dad?”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I didn’t think you had,” I said and sat down. “What do I do?”
“Go ahead with it,” Megan suggested. “I mean, it’s not like you don’t look like a girl, is it? Who’d think you were anything other than what you look like and you look like a pretty girl?”
“She’s right, Jamie,” said Chris. “I wouldn’t believe it unless I knew.”
“That’s not helping, either of you,” I replied, secretly thrilled to hear me and pretty in the same sentence, then confused for the same reason. “I don’t really want to look like this and once that news report goes out, then what happens?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Jess, thoughtfully rubbing her chin. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I never meant for this to happen, but It’s like, got a bit out of control hasn’t it?”
“You can say that again.”
We went back into the office.
“Sorry about that. Nerves,” said Chris, pointing at me.
“Don’t worry”, said Rich. “Lots of people get nervous with a camera and microphone pointed at them; many people–more famous than you–have nervous seizures when parked in front of the cameras.”
They sat us down and the cameraman got himself ready.
Rich turned to the camera. “I’m here at Cliffside; a holiday site for many tourists on top of the cliffs here in the little village of Banthorpe, but last night, the weather brought a surprise none of them were expecting in the shape of a mudslide.” He paused as the camera went from him to us.
“Well, girls,” he said with an oily smile, which made all of us feel somewhat uneasy, “Between you, you managed to save Joe and Martha here.”
“It wasn’t us. It was Jamie,” said Megan. “None of us wanted to leave our cabin and go out in the rain, let alone come back here without her, but Jamie’s quick thinking got us out just before the cabin collapsed. We were just in time for Joe and Martha too.”
They stopped there as the cameraman moved to focus on Joe and Martha, who as always was rubbing Joey’s head as he cautiously eyed the people around him. I wondered whether he was sizing them up for lunch.
“I understand that Deirdre Blake, the co-owner of Cliffside is your daughter,” Rich said.
“Oh yes. We’ve been coming here since the place opened. We get a holiday and get to see Dee–sorry, Deirdre and Frank at the same time. Having the cabin, we can do our own thing while they’re running the business.”
“You were in your cabin when it happened?”
“Yes. We had planned to come up to the house for dinner, but it was raining so heavily, we decided to wait until it cleared up,” said Joe. “But then these four girls knocked on the door and Jamie told us to get out. Martha didn’t have the cat and Jamie went inside to get it, while the other three girls brought us up here.
“Jamie didn’t come back for ages and then we saw the cabin disappear–we think over the cliff’s edge and thought she’d gone with it, but then a few moments later, she appeared with the cat, scratched, muddy and wet, but other than that, she was okay.”
“So, you’re all alive today thanks to Jamie’s efforts?”
“Oh definitely,” Martha confirmed and the others all nodded agreement–even Jess.
“Well,” said Rich, turning to me. “You certainly keep a cool head in a crisis.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know about ‘cool head’, I mean, if I’d known the cabin was so close to going over, I probably wouldn’t have done what I did.”
“But the main thing was, you did and thanks to your heroic efforts, everyone got out of it alive. You are a real heroine.”
I didn’t like the sound of that and tried to play it down. It hadn’t been such a big deal anyway.
“It was all such a spur-of-the-moment thing,” I said, trying to clarify matters. “I didn’t think about it; I just did what needed to be done. I just wanted to make sure everyone was safe.”
“Exactly,” he said, beaming that oily smile at me. “So thanks to young Jamie here, these six people–and the cat are safe and sound. This has been Rich Howarth for South News.” He paused for a second or two; “That’s a rap. Well done everyone. You should see it on this afternoon’s news.”
As soon as it was possible, I left the office and went down to the paddock. Valentina wouldn’t ask questions and I could give her a cuddle while getting everything off my chest–metaphorically speaking that is, stuffing notwithstanding. She wouldn’t say anything, just be there and that’s what I felt I needed.
As soon as I went through the gate, the big grey wandered over to me and put her face in my hands, giving a little snicker as she did.
“You don’t think I’m some kind of hero, do you?”
She snickered.
Fortunately, I don’t speak horse, so whatever she was saying to me, didn’t matter other than it felt nice. I wrapped my arms round her big neck and started to cry.
This is the first time anything has upset me to the degree that I have cried over it. The odd thing is, that all the picking at school about my height, the fact I look like a smaller version of my sister–everything, just seemed to go in one ear and come out the other. Oh sure, I hated it, but it’s never brought me to tears. Here, I was the heroine, the famous life-saver and I was blubbing my heart out.
“It’s alright,” said a whispered voice.
“What!?” I exclaimed wondering if Valentina had learnt to talk and then saw a familiar pair of legs.
“I said, it’s alright,” Megan repeated and put her arms around me, drawing me close and pulling my head towards her neck, the tears running freely down my face as I gave in and put my arms around her and just let it all go.
I can’t describe how it made me feel. Everything was mixed in together: Megan, the girl thing, the boys and girls at school, the thought of Mum and Dad when they see me–just about everything and I just couldn’t stop myself from crying. All I knew was the fact that between Megan and Valentina–who was nuzzling me at the same time as Megan was hugging me–I didn’t want the feeling to end.
However, end it did, mainly because Valentina was making Megan laugh. Actually, it was the fact that I had a long face and Valentina had a long face and neither Megan nor I could keep our faces straight. The mental image of the three of us was just hilarious. I suppose you had to be there, but take it from me, it was a real tonic and I felt drained, but much better after it.
“You alright, Jamie?” asked Jess. For the first time she actually looked concerned; I mean genuinely concerned.
“Yes, thanks. Between Megan and Valentina here, I think I’m okay.”
“Yeah, what is it between you and that horse? It won’t come near anyone else but you.”
“I know. She follows her around like a puppy,” agreed Megan.
“That’s just weird,” said Chris.
“Not my fault if she has such good taste,” I said haughtily, but followed by a chuckle. “Deirdre even asked if I was going to leave her here when we left.”
“You never know, she might follow us home,” said Jess.
“Huh! You wish,” I said. “Where would we put her? I think people might notice, not to mention the apoplectic fit Dad would have.”
“It was just a thought,” she replied, with a shrug.
After a group hug, I felt a lot better and had to excuse myself to give Valentina one of her own. As I walked back to the gate, a voice caught my attention.
“Don’t I get one?”
“Uh?” I swung round and it was Megan.
“I mean, so far, we’ve had three hugs and all of them have been shared. I want one of my own.”
I had to oblige, didn’t I?
Somewhere in the hug, our faces got closer together. I stared into those mischievous eyes and before I knew it, our lips met. I thought my knees were going to give way and almost swooned.
“That’s better,” she said, taking my hand firmly in her own and we turned to go back to the house only to see Frank, who looked most perplexed. He must have seen us canoodling and God only knows what he thought. Well, I suppose it’s pretty obvious what he thought, actually.
Later at the house, we were up in our room–okay, the spare room and all four of us were sitting on the bed.
“He didn’t!” exclaimed Chris. “Really?”
“He did,” said Megan, stifling a giggle.
“Shit!”
“What?” I asked. “We were only kissing.”
“Yes but you’re both girls.”
“I most certainly––” My voice trailed off.
What was I?
Now even I was starting to wonder.
Shit!
Okay, so it’s only a day, but this change of role has had something of a profound effect on me and perhaps I was getting used to the slightly different style of dress, the fact that for once, Jess and I were getting along…
Shit indeed.
Did I like being one of them? I certainly liked the fact that I didn’t have to try too hard around them. That part was nice, but being one of them?
Did I like wearing the clothes and taking on the persona of a girl?–no–wait, I wasn’t taking on the persona. That was something that was already there, something I didn’t change, something I just didn’t even think about.
“I’m not a girl,” I said, my lower lip quivering. “Am I?”
No answers sprang from any of their lips as I looked round.
“It’s not like that, Jamie,” Jess said soothingly, putting her arm round me. “It’s just–” She paused. “Well, you’re not very good at being a boy are you?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“It’s, like, you know, horses for courses. Some people are good at being artists or policemen or musicians and others aren’t. You’re much better at being a girl.”
“So I’m a girl now?” I demanded. “Are you off your trolley?”
“Okay, calm down,” she said. Her expression was serious and I knew she was really giving some thought to this. “How long have you been a girl?”
“Never,” I spat.
“That would be yesterday,” she said, ignore my reply. “Good.” She took a deep breath. “And just how much training have you had in how to act like a girl?”
“None.” I said. “Look, just what are you like, getting at?”
“Simple. You made the transition from male to female with no training; no practice; nothing and yet no-one has even questioned you. No-one has once suggested that you’re even a tomboy, they have just accepted you as a girl. Have you ever had that as a boy?”
I hated to admit it, but she was right.
“No.”
“I rest my case.”
I couldn’t agree. I wasn’t a girl; not physically anyway. At least I wasn’t the last time I looked. So what was she driving at?
“I don’t understand.”
“I said about horses for courses; things that you’re good at, but more than that, things that some people just can’t do, no matter how hard they try.
“You have had to try to be a boy; to fit in. Yet to be a girl, you just have to put on some girl’s clothes and away you go. You walk like a girl, talk like a girl and you even have the mannerisms of a girl. No-one has had to teach you, it’s just that you’re doing what seems to like, come naturally.”
“You’re off your rocker, Jess. Feeble-starkers-bonkers.”
Frank’s voice came from downstairs. “You might want to come and see this, girls.”
Suddenly, my problems were forgotten–albeit temporarily as quick as a flash, we headed downstairs where Joe, Martha and Deirdre were standing or sitting around the TV.
On the screen was the office of Cliffside and Rich was at that moment talking to me.
“Oh–”
“Wow!” the others finished. “You’re on the telly.”
I stared at the boy on the screen–me and wasn’t convinced at that moment that Jess wasn’t right. I didn’t see a boy in girl’s clothes at all, but a female; a girl and dare I say, quite a reasonably good-looking one at that.
I had to get out of there; to go somewhere where I could be alone to think.
No prizes for guessing where I headed.
When I got to the paddock, which was really just a small field bounded by a fence, I walked straight across to the far side. I figured if I was as far as possible from the gate, it’d take them longer to find me.
I went right to the bottom corner of the field to a large sycamore tree, where I sat. Valentina came over and gave me a nuzzle and then stood nearby while I sat with my back against the tree, staring into space, trying to process everything that had happened.
Seeing myself in the mirror wasn’t nearly as shocking as seeing myself on the television and that was something I wasn’t prepared for. It almost cemented Jess’s statement in my head: that I had to try to be a boy and that being a girl was what I really should be–or words to that effect.
I don’t know whether she was just saying that or whether she meant it, but whatever, it gave me considerable cause for concern.
Did I want to be a girl?
Well, right then, it seemed–according to Jess and apparently the others too, that that was the way I fitted in best, but it was a hard thing to take. For all the pratfalls, pitfalls and other negatives associated with my life as a boy, I was used to it. It was all I’d known. The fact that I could pass easily as a girl was not reason enough in my books to actually become a girl.
Then there was the fact that since I became my own alter ego, my relationship with all three girls had changed–fairly dramatically. Jess and I still fought–sort of, but then that’s usual between siblings. Most recently though, we’d found some common ground; some way of being in close proximity without wanting to throttle one another.
The attraction between Megan and I was a shock, as prior to this, she hadn’t given me a second look. We’d not even spoken two words to each other before the business in the cabin and the fact that she just seemed to latch on to me was somewhat unnerving, but not at all unpleasant.
Finally, there was Chris. She was the quiet one of the three; the one who on two occasions now had spoken up in my defence. The last time in the stables was a big shock–almost as big as the shock of Megan being possessive over me and wanting a hug and kiss–oh, that kiss–well, you can see my dilemma.
I suppose on the one hand, right then I had a kind of peace; the knowledge that as I was, things between me and the outside world were cool. I was surrounded by people who appeared to respect me–as me and who hadn’t blamed me for anything. The people around me at that moment knew me as Jamie, a sensible, reliable, helpful girl with a killer figure, which was something I didn’t mind at all–well the sensible and reliable bit anyway.
On the other hand, and here’s the bit that was most difficult for me to contend with, the ‘me’ they knew and respected, wasn’t me. To them I was their heroine, which was a label I didn’t feel at all comfortable with, not least because I wasn’t what they thought I was.
Don’t get me wrong, gaining recognition for something good one does is not a bad thing, but I felt they were blowing it out of all proportion because the real ‘me’ was an awkward boy, constantly at loggerheads with his sister, almost constantly in trouble with his parents and at school–usually through some intervention of Jess’s–and who was pretty unsure of everything he did or said.
I was fairly sure, simply putting on girl’s clothes and pretending to be Jess’s twin sister was not going to change my personality from awkward to confident, but it seemed that was exactly what happened.
I sighed and pulled my knees up under my chin, looking at the sandals that I was wearing. The wedge heels and the narrow straps, the fact that they looked right and were surprisingly comfortable–even having trudged across a very uneven field. They looked and felt like they fitted–well they did fit, but you know what I mean. I really liked the way they looked on my feet and made my feet look.
I ran my hands up my calves–my smooth calves–up to the hems of the Capris I wore, fidgeting with the ‘V’ cut-outs. They didn’t feel wrong either. In fact, it all tied together nicely–co-ordinated.
I sighed again.
I would have thought that being plonked into this situation would have had more of a negative effect on me; have me running round like an idiot screaming and shouting at Jess and her friends for having put me in this position and demanding that I get put back as a boy immediately, but no.
I didn’t have the presence of mind then to consider that it had been less than twenty-four hours–hardly long enough to make an informed decision, but then that’s youth for you isn’t it? Everything at that age is ‘now’. There is no tomorrow, no later even; it’s right there, right then and nothing else matters.
However, something that did matter; something I had neglected in my considerations, was parents.
They had two children Jess and me. One was a girl–that would be Jess and the other, her brother James–that would be me. Right now, or rather, when they finally returned, they would find they actually had two daughters. It might even be right now, if they saw that newscast.
Along with so many others.
I would be dead meat when I got back to school.
Never mind school; I’ll probably be dead meat when Mum and Dad get back.
God alone knew what they were going to think.
I suspected Aston Park would be off.
I hugged my knees, wrapping my arms even tighter around them, rested my head there and just sobbed.
“Jamie?” said a familiar voice.
I looked up and standing before me was Mum.
“I think we need to talk…”
In the next chapter: A Vauxhall Corsa?
Mum and dad get back and although they managed to get a hire car while ours was being fixed, it wasn’t what one could call practical. In fact, it only had room for two-thirds of us–something they weren’t particularly impressed about.
There was something else they weren’t overly impressed about too…
Mum and dad return and although they managed to get a hire car while ours was being fixed, it wasn’t exactly what one could call practical. In fact, it only had room for five of us–something they weren’t particularly impressed about.
There was something else they weren’t overly impressed about too…
I don’t know how long I’d been sitting under that tree, but it must have been a fair old while, because my backside had gone to sleep and was totally numb.
I had been running through various scenarios in my head, going over what was likely to happen when Mum and Dad finally got back; what I was going to say or how I was going to handle the situation–whatever that turned out to be when it happened?
The situation brought to mind a scene from ’The Mask’, when Stanley Ipkiss’s world had just turned to complete shit. Dripping wet, he has an argument with his totally unsympathetic landlady, Mrs. Peenman on the landing. She rants, raves and when he gets into his room, all he can say is “I wish I’d said that.”
There was no way I was going to let that happen to me.
I pretty much knew that my situation–whilst not as hysterically funny as Stanley’s–was still bad and that Mum and Dad were going to have a bloody menagerie, never mind kittens when they came face to face with me in this get-up, so I really needed to decide what to say.
The problem of course, was that my imagination was pretty acute and the least offensive reaction I considered coming from my parents was to be dragged to the house by the ear to explain to all and sundry that no, I wasn’t Jamie–a girl, but James–a boy.
The scenarios went downhill from there and my ear hurt just from thinking about Mum or Dad tweaking it.
Then suddenly there was Mum, large as life, looking down at me as I sat against the tree in my Capris, wedge-heeled sandals and a bra stuffed to make it look like there were breasts under the feminine, pastel-coloured t-shirt–oh, and let’s not forget the shaved legs.
Despite the practice runs and the hypothesising, the clever retorts disappeared out the proverbial window. “Um,” was the sole utterance I could manage.
“Is that the best you can do?” Mum asked, her face and tone unreadable. “After such eloquence on the television, I was expecting a much more practiced and polished speech.”
“You saw that?” I asked, my jaw dropping open.
“We did–and do close your mouth or it’ll wind up full of flies.”
I was dumbstruck. I wasn’t expecting anything so calm from her. I had expected something akin to an epileptic fit at the very least, but she just calmly sat down beside me.
“You look nice,” she said.
Incomprehension was all I felt. I could tell from the tone of her voice and the way she couldn’t look at me when she spoke that she wasn’t comfortable. So if that was the case, why did she say it?
Again could think of nothing to say in response and just sat there staring at my feet.
“Where did you get the clothes?” she enquired; I presumed to break the silence.
“Um, Deirdre gave them to me.”
“That was kind of her.”
I think perhaps we were both a little embarrassed by the situation. I know I was. I could understand how Mum felt, well–sort of anyway. Andy said his mum found a copy of some nudie magazine when she was making his bed one day and went nuts. If Andy’s mother could get angry over him looking at pictures of girls and it wasn’t as if they were explicit pictures either, I can only assume it would be much worse for a mother to find her son dressing as one, which led to a question:
Why was she being so calm about it all?
“I know this time it wasn’t your fault,” she said, as if to read my mind; at least it answered the question of calmness.
“You do?”
“We do–though your sister swears blind it was all your idea.”
I shook my head, vigorously. “It wasn’t, mum, I swear.”
“I know, honey. I know. A little bird told us–a pretty little bird who seems to think the world of you, just as you are–which is confusing, but–” she shrugged. “Each to their own.”
“Megan?”
She nodded. “I must say, your father didn’t take it at all well.” She laughed. “He turned more shades of purple than I knew existed when you popped up on the TV screen.”
I blinked.
“Yes, he wasn’t happy and was going to ground you on the spot. He was even considering sending you to Nan’s.”
“He wouldn’t, would he?” I asked. Then I thought of summer holiday at Nan’s. “He hasn’t, has he? He wouldn’t, would he?”
“No–on all counts. Let’s just say I ’suggested’ we–and by that, I mean, ’I’ spoke to you and the others first.” She patted my leg and smiled.
“Where is dad?” I asked.
“Oh, he went off with Frank to have a look at the damage–you know, man stuff. So while he’s out of the way, why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Having a conversation with Mum, that didn’t involve me getting into trouble was definitely not something I was used to. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was about as rare as hen’s teeth. It was however, something I could easily have got used to.
Nevertheless, I wasn’t in the clear yet. I was still kind of cautious and apprehensive of things degenerating as they’re so apt to do–very quickly. It’s happened that way in the past, but I needed to get the events of the last eighteen hours or so off my chest and just dived in.
“I so didn’t want this–the dressing up I mean, but Jess told me that if I didn’t, she’d make sure I wouldn’t get to go to Aston Park.”
“Why?” Mum queried, clearly taken aback.
“Because she was going to tell you that I was antagonising her and her friends; arguing and giving her jip.”
“That’s ridiculous. I did not give her carte-blanche to make you do anything she wanted. That’s not what I meant at all. I just wanted someone to take responsibility.”
“That’s what I said,” I replied, perking up quite a bit, knowing I was right. “But would you have believed me if I’d said I wasn’t antagonising them and all three of them were telling you I was?”
She looked down and away from me. “Hmm,” she murmured, nodding, though I feared that meant she wouldn’t have believed me.
“The thing was, after they had me all dressed up with makeup and everything, the rain started–like really heavy, thundering and lightning all over the place and before we knew it, the mudslide started.
“Everyone was really scared–especially Megan–who wouldn’t go anywhere without me–and we went down the hall to check out all the noises we were hearing. We could hear it hissing as it moved, but you should have seen it, Mum. It had broken through the windows, crushing things as it started to fill up the kitchen and everything. We could feel the cabin moving and hear it creaking. Once it started to split and squirt through the kitchen door–from the inside, I decided it was time to get out. We never got the chance to get our stuff and I was stuck with what I had on.”
“And what was that?”
“A denim skirt–”
“Not that tiny little thing Jess insists on wearing and which barely hides her knickers?”
“I didn’t know she had more than one. I suppose it must have been.”
Mum shook her head, not looking pleased at all. “What else?”
“White knickers, a bra stuffed with some socks–this one,” I said, plucking at my faux-boobs and getting a bit of a chuckle and a smile from Mum in the process; “A t-shirt, my denim jacket and these sandals.” I lifted one foot and shook it.
Her smile evaporated and I waited for her to say something. She just sat there, silently fuming like I’d seen so many times when I was on the receiving end of one of her ’talks’.
I took a deep breath and continued.
“When we got outside, I told the girls to go back up to the office, but they wouldn’t go without me. Megan had practically welded herself to my arm by now and I knew I wasn’t going anywhere without her, so we all went to the other cabins to check to see if anyone was there.
“We discovered that Joe and Martha–Deirdre’s mum and dad–were still in theirs and had to get them out. Trouble was that took ages–they’re not too quick on their feet and once we had, they realised they’d forgotten the cat.
“I told Jess and the others to get Joe and Martha to the office while I went and got the cat. It was a horrible thing too, all claws and teeth. Wouldn’t take my word that I was trying to help and I got all these scratches and bites.” I raised my arms to show the lacerations Joey had given me.
“After I got back with the cat, Jess was all ‘don’t ever do that again. I thought I’d lost you,’ and stuff, and everyone else was patting me on the back telling me I was a heroine or something. I didn’t even think about what I looked like right then, but of course, when I did think about it, I was too embarrassed by the thought of what they’d say if I suddenly blurted out that I was actually James, since they already appeared to have assumed I was a girl.”
I sat fidgeting with my hands, wondering how Mum was taking all this; wondering whether it sounded believable to her–it didn’t to me. The more I thought about what had happened, the less plausible it sounded.
“I can see why,” she said, looking me over.
I was about to say something, but just glared at her instead.
She looked away. “Just go on with your story.”
That look away spoke volumes. I knew right there that she probably agreed with the others and just didn’t want to say that I did look like a girl; it wasn’t obvious that I was a boy.
“Go on,” she said, giving me a nudge and bringing my meandering mind back from its thoughts.
“Well, after that, Deirdre took us upstairs so we could take a shower and get into dry clothes, which she’d sorted out for us. I told Jess I didn’t know what to do, so they decided I should stay as a girl rather than upset the apple-cart.
“Jess admitted that she and her friends were responsible for the situation I was in and promised to help, starting with helping me pick something suitable out of what Deirdre had provided–which explains this particular ensemble,” I said, gesturing down my body.
“All the other clothes were too flimsy and it would have been too difficult to disguise me, if you know what I mean. It was Jess’s idea that I shave my legs too–at least from just above the knees down and as soon as she said that, she and Chris disappeared downstairs, saying that I was alright, I knew what I was doing and could get on with it.
“But I’d never shaved anything before. I hadn’t a clue what to do, so it was lucky that Megan stayed to help, because as it was I cut myself twice and it could have been much worse.”
“Only twice? I made a hell of a mess the first time I tried shaving my legs,” Mum admitted. “I’d got loo paper up and down my legs when I’d finished to stop the bleeding. I looked like I’d got polka-dot legs!”
We laughed.
“Thanks, but then I did have a good teacher,” I said with a smile. “Anyhow, I tried to stay out of the way after that.”
“Why?”
“Because I was embarrassed that everyone thought I was some sort of heroine. I knew we’d helped Joe and Martha, but I really didn’t do that much. So I decided to lie low and helped out in the kitchen with Megan and Deirdre, getting those who had become stranded–and had taken refuge in the office–something to eat and drink. Jess and Chris were all moony over two boys in the office, so they weren’t much help at all. After that we went to bed. I had a made up bed on the floor and when I woke up I thought it had all been a bad dream, but it wasn’t.”
I deliberately kept Megan’s sleeping with me out of the story. I wasn’t sure how Mum would react to that, even though nothing happened.
“The TV news crew was round a little later and I got cold feet thinking about all the people who would see me dressed like this, but everyone was expecting me to sit there in front of the camera and tell them my story–backed up of course by Joe, Martha and the others and with each word, I felt as if I was never going to get out of this.
“Later I got to help with grooming the horses, which is where I met Valentina. She and I got on right from the start, and when Jess came in and decided she should groom her, Valentina knocked her on her bum–several times. I liked her from the beginning and I think she likes me too.
“In the bedroom later–after we’d walked the horses to the paddock–we were talking about the fact that Frank saw me kissing Megan. I suppose he wasn’t to know I wasn’t a girl–the girls said that I was probably more girl than boy.
“I don’t suppose that felt too good, did it?”
“Well, to be honest, it answered a lot of questions for me. Jess had said that it always seemed as if I had to try to be a boy. She said in the short time I had been pretending to be a girl, I’d passed scrutiny without trying, without any practice or training and that got me thinking.
“A little later I got to see myself on the television. It’s surprising how different we look on that isn’t it? I’d seen myself in the mirror, but this time I got to hear and see myself at the same time and I didn’t see a boy anymore. That’s why I’ve been in the paddock since then trying to work out what I’m supposed to do.”
I started to leak around the eyes again and a lump began growing in my throat. “I never meant for this to happen, Mum; never.”
“Hey. Don’t cry, sweetheart,” she said, wrapping her arms around me and stroking my hair. “I’m very proud of you.”
“You are?” I asked, wiping my eyes and sniffing. “I thought you’d be angry.”
“What you did was truly heroic and I yes, am shall we say ’confused’ about my son becoming my daughter–even if it’s only temporary–but it doesn’t matter, we can get you back to normal in no time.”
“I don’t know if that’s what I want,” I said.
“Why ever not?” Mum asked, obviously startled.
“At first I was thinking that when you and Dad got back, I could go back to being James. Just get some boys’ clothes and away we go, but then I thought about trying to explain why I had been dressed as a girl and couldn’t think of anything plausible that wouldn’t make the situation worse than it already was.
“As it is, it’s likely that some of the kids from school will have seen me on the television and when I go back to school, I’m like, dead meat, but that’s not what’s important. Right now, there are a number of people here that think I’m a girl and I don’t think it’s right to change that. Especially since I’ve had plenty of time to come clean and haven’t.
“These are good people here who are doing their best to look after us and I feel that if I suddenly admit that I’m not what they think I am, they might think that I’ve deliberately tried to trick them. Worse would be how it makes you and Dad look and I don’t want either of you to be embarrassed–although it looks as though Dad’s boat has already sailed as far as that’s concerned.
“What Jess and the others said about the fact that I didn’t have to try to be a girl, makes perfect sense, because I do have to try to fit in as a boy–all the time. Yet everyone here has accepted me like this, Frank, Joe, Martha, Deirdre, Chris, Megan, Rich Howarth, the TV news man–or creep–and especially Valentina.”
“Valentina–didn’t you mention her earlier?”
“Yes. She’s my new friend.”
“I don’t think I remember seeing her. Was she in the office?” Mum asked.
I laughed. “No, silly; I told you, she’s the horse I was grooming. She’s over there. Would you like to meet her?”
I stood up and called to Valentina, who walked straight over to me.
“See?”
Mum’s face was a picture. It was a look of disbelief mixed with wonder as the big dappled grey sauntered on over and immediately put her velvety mouth on my hand. I patted her large grey face and looked into those large, dark and incredibly trusting eyes. “You don’t think I’m weird, do you?” I asked and, as if in direct response, she snickered.
“I don’t believe this,” Mum said very quietly, as she walked up to the huge mare and patted her long neck, shaking her head. “This is unreal.”
I giggled. “Deirdre seems to think I’m going to take her away with me when we go.”
“Why does she think that?”
“You’ll see,” I replied with a knowing giggle.
“Actually, speaking of Deirdre, perhaps we’d better head back to the house. The others will be wondering where we’ve got to by now.”
We started up towards the gate and I glanced over my shoulder.
“See?” I said, gesturing behind me.
Mum turned to see the big mare, quietly plodding along behind us. “Are you sure you’re not encouraging her?”
“Perhaps, but it’s not intentional.”
“She’s just following you of her own accord?”
“Yes. Has been all day.”
“Unreal,” Mum muttered.
I closed the gate to the field behind us, giving Valentina a pat on her nose. “Be a good girl,” I told her.
We walked slowly towards the house and Mum seemed to be thinking.
“You’re happy like that?” she asked.
“Not really,” I told her. “But the fact is, I don’t have anything else to wear and besides, I don’t want people’s impression of me to change–which is the as good a reason as any to stay like this.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you carrying on like this, Jamie and I know your dad isn’t.”
“But, Mum. I can’t suddenly become a boy, can I?”
“Excuse me?”
I know. The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on me either. However, Mum didn’t seem to see the funny side.
“You know what I mean. Everyone here knows me as Jamie–the girl. What’s going to happen when I turn up as Jamie–the boy?”
She thought for a moment.
We stood outside the kitchen and I was on tenterhooks. I couldn’t believe what I was standing there in anticipation of:
I could probably go on and on about this, but I didn’t want to stay a girl; I just didn’t want to suffer the indignity of being looked at as if I was some kind of pervert.
Having said that, I liked the attention–the positive attention I was getting. Obviously, there were special reasons for this, but at the same time, I’d done good things as a boy too–honest, but at the end of the day, I was still James Powers, royal pain in the arse and any positive things were only ever very short-lived.
“Oh, thank God,” said Deirdre, almost falling out of the kitchen. “I thought I heard you out here.”
Mum and I looked at her.
“What’s happened?” I asked, thinking someone must have died or something.
“There’s a whole bunch of newspaper reporters here to see you, Jamie,” she said.
Almost instantly we set foot into the room, Mum and I were hit by a barrage of camera flashes and shouts: “Jamie, look this way–” “Over here, Jamie–” It seemed endless and I was glad that my celeb status would, hopefully, not last long.
This was so far removed from the orderly television interview and although Rich was a creep–an oily creep–I wasn’t made to feel as if one wrong move and I would be torn limb from limb. Here I felt just that. In fact, I was completely overwhelmed by the situation; the constant shouting, as all at once, the reporters yelled question after question accompanied by the perpetual chattering of camera shutters and the Woomph of their flashes going off.
Mum came to my rescue, stepping forward to take control.
For about the next twenty minutes, she handled the questions, which ranged from how old I was, where we were from, what we were doing in Banthorpe and from there, what we planned to do with the rest of the holiday.
I answered them as best I could–including, of course, a trip to Aston Park–I just had to get that in.
The whole thing was manic and I was so pleased that Mum was with me. If she hadn’t been, I think I would have just fainted or stood there like a gormless guppy, looking just about as intelligent too.
The ’interview’ eventually finished and I know I’d said it was about twenty minutes, but believe me, it felt interminable. Soon enough, the reporters and the photographers all filed out, leaving me feeling drained and very vulnerable for some reason.
“I think we could all do with a cuppa, don’t you?” Deirdre asked, leading us into the kitchen. “That’s one hell of a daughter you have there, Mrs. Powers,” she said.
“You have no idea,” Mum replied. “No idea at all.”
I passed on the tea. “Where are the others?” I asked.
“They’re upstairs in the bedroom,” Deirdre informed me.
Upstairs, the girls were all sitting on the bed.
“Where’ve you been?” Jess asked accusingly.
“Leave her alone,” Megan hissed, threateningly, scooting across the bed to thread her arm though mine and pull me protectively to her.
Her? I wondered. Not one of the others so much as turned a hair at the feminine pronoun being used in reference to me. Secretly, I was just a little thrilled to hear it, but at the same time, I was scared silly.
Was this getting out of hand?
Had it already got out of hand?
Where was it all going to lead?
“You two disgust me,” Jess said angrily. “Bloody lezzies.”
”Bitch!” yelled Megan, who let go of me and dived at Jess.
“Who are you calling bitch?” Jess screeched, pushing Megan off the bed to land with a loud thump on the floor. She got back up and rushed at Jess again, only to get caught mid-flight by Chris.
“Stop it both of you,” I shouted.
“Well get that bloody pervert away from me, then.”
“What the hell’s going on here,” growled Mum. Her face was red and it looked as though she was anything but pleased. “Jessica Alice Powers, would you mind explaining what you just said?”
“Well it’s true. Look at them. It’s sick.”
“And just what’s wrong with Jamie being friends with Megan?”
“Well, it’s like one of my best friends is trying to get off with my sister.”
“Have you heard what you just said?”
“So?”
“Might I remind you, young lady,” she said, looking over her shoulder to ensure there was no-one there, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re the one who started this in the first place.”
“I did not,” Jess said, pouting.
Megan, Chris and I all went wide-eyed and took a sharp intake of breath at this.
“I take it you three don’t agree?”
“No, Mrs. Powers,” Chris said quietly.
“You all feel this way?”
“Yes, Mrs. Powers,” Megan admitted. “We were all involved, but it was Jess’s idea. She was planning it from the moment you said you and Mr. Powers were going out to dinner and would be leaving her in charge.”
“Seems we’ve got to the truth of the situation at last,” Mum said. “I think you owe them an apology, don’t you?”
An almost inaudible sound escaped Jess’s lips as her head bowed. “Sorry.”
“Pardon?” said Mum. “I didn’t hear that.”
“Sorry,” she said again, slightly louder after which, she got off the bed and ran, full-tilt to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Chris ran after Jess. “Hey! Wait!” But the bathroom door was tightly locked.
“I’m sorry about that, girls. I had no idea.” She shook her head and turned away, heading back downstairs.
Once Mum was out of earshot, “Girls?” Chris remarked, blinking. “Girls?”
“I know,” replied Megan, looking a little puzzled.
I didn’t know what to think either. Did Mum mean me too? Did she want me to stay as I was? She never did answer me before we came indoors, but I know she was about to say something.
I know I was running hot and cold over being Jamie, the girl, but the fact was, there were some parts about it I definitely enjoyed. However there were other elements–mostly, wondering what the future held–that scared the living crap out of me. It shouldn’t have mattered though, it wasn’t like it was going to be permanent anyway.
Chris returned to the bathroom and tried again and again to get some sort of response from Jess, but eventually gave up knocking and calling through the bathroom door as she got absolutely nothing. She returned to us on the bed and sighed. I knew how she felt.
The three of us were rather subdued, just sitting looking at one another, but saying nothing. Eventually though, the bathroom door opened and Jess came out, but instead of joining us, she just headed downstairs. We heard Deirdre say something, but it was cut short as the kitchen door opened and then shut rapidly.
“I’ll go talk to her,” I said and sloped off downstairs.
I found her–eventually, sitting on a pile of straw in the stables.
“You alright?”
“No I’m bloody not!” she exclaimed. “I thought those girls were my friends.”
“And you thought that they would automatically cover for you, right?”
“That’s right,” she sniffed. “That’s what friends do.”
“But friends shouldn’t put their friends in that position in the first place. You lied Jess and you expected them to lie too.”
“Huh! What d’you know? You’re not even a girl.”
“That’s not what you were saying earlier, is it?” I asked.
Jess looked down. “No,” she said and threw her hands in the air. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
She looked at me as if I was mad. “What d’you mean?”
I shrugged. “I actually like parts of being Jamie, the girl.”
“Eeyeeeew. You some sort of pervert?”
“No, I mean––” I dried up, not knowing where to go from there.
Was that the case?
Did I really like being Jamie–meaning the girl?
Well there were things that had happened to Jamie that didn’t happen to James. Conversely, there were things that happened to James that didn’t happen to Jamie too.
I didn’t get into trouble–or hadn’t since I’d been Jamie and nobody thought I was up to something mischievous or that there was an ulterior motive behind anything I did and that was nice.
Being James however, was something I was used to, but did I really want to continue with the groundings, the trouble at school–the name-calling and bullying? I know name-calling shouldn’t be a worry, but if it’s continuous, it does get you down. It means that you have to develop a skin thick enough not to want to go and top yourself or something.
Not only that, but you find that your friends are limited–if you’re lucky enough to have any in the first place–and probably just as confused and ostracised as you are, which no disrespect, generally makes them weird.
I didn’t think I was weird.
All I wanted was to fit in.
As for the bullying, I detest it. I was always being told that I was either gay or girly and behind most of it was Jess. Curiously though, I didn’t blame her for it. She was my sister, my own flesh and blood and I know there’s always going to be rivalry between siblings–or so they say, but looking like I do and having realised how I must have appeared to the majority, I can understand how it had gone on so long.
This transition to Jamie has opened my eyes, but where would it end?
“Oh I don’t know,” I said with a heavy sigh.
There was evidently a lot of not knowing going around.
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
I nodded and it felt like a weight had been lifter from my shoulders. A shock for sure, but it was true. I really didn’t know.
“I am. I really don’t know if I want to be James anymore.” It was hard not to start crying again, but the tears got the better of me.
“Hey! Jamie! Easy,” Jess said, scooting over and putting her arm round me. “But you have to remember that this isn’t something you can just jump into.”
“Why not? I’ve tried it for fourteen years and being a boy doesn’t fit. How much longer do I have to be the boy that doesn’t fit before I can be what I might have been supposed to be all along?”
Did I really just say that?
Silence fell and neither of us could even look at the other for a while.
I felt as if I had overstepped a mark and began getting the impression that things were once again slipping from my grasp. I didn’t know which way to look and why oh why did I choose Jess to say that to? Hadn’t she already got me into enough trouble?
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
Hmm. Thinking before I opened my mouth seemed to be a problem, not just for James, but Jamie too.
“No, I think you’re right,” she replied quietly. “It could explain a lot. I mean, you’re not the same person you were as you are now–if that makes sense. You’re not James at all. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but you’re definitely not the same person.”
“You’re just saying that,” I said, the regret building for having opened my mouth without thinking it through first. “I know you, Jess. Why on earth should I believe you now after everything that’s happened?”
“Because you know I’m right.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
My head was in a whirl. It was like being two people at the same time. There was James–insecure, confused and belittled and Jamie–sure, confident (on the outside) and respected.
In between the two of them was me.
The real me didn’t know which of the two packages I needed to be in and I could almost feel myself being sucked down into a maelstrom of confusion, not knowing whether I would ever be able to reach the surface again. Even if I did, I didn’t know which one of the two of me would win out. I needed to think–again.
“I think maybe you should go and make peace with Megan and Chris. They didn’t deserve to be dropped in it like you did, you know.”
“I know.”
She got up and left the stables.
“Jess,” I called.
She turned.
“Thanks.”
It was my turn to sit quietly in the stable, the spiky straw poking me, but I wasn’t bothered. I could smell the smell of horses and it was strangely intoxicating and calming. I thought of my friend Valentina and wondered whether this was another part of my girly side coming out.
“Dipstick!” I exclaimed, shaking my head and grinning stupidly. “Horse riding isn’t only for girls.”
There was a lot of truth in what I had said and what Jess had said, but wasn’t it all happening a little bit too quickly?
Surely, it would take someone a while to consider something as drastic as changing their gender–wouldn’t it? It really shouldn’t be a snap decision, after all, it’s a life-changing thing and by no means easy.
I didn’t really know much about it. I knew about the differences in plumbing between boys and girls of course, but as to what changing one’s sex entailed, I had no idea. I knew that people referred to ’the operation’, but no more than that.
The more I thought about it though, the less I wanted to go back to being James. It was understandable that I should have felt that way, as Jamie got more respect without even asking for it. She was able to get on with people better than James–even Mum. She was the one who really surprised me because I can’t remember ever having had a conversation like the one I had with her in the paddock.
You can see how it coloured my judgement, can’t you?
Outside, I could hear people talking.
“We won’t be long,” said Frank. “But we desperately need to get those supplies.”
“Do you need any help?” asked Dad.
“No, you’ve offered enough of that already. Let us deal with tonight and we can sort the rest out from there.”
I wondered what on earth was going on.
Sort what out?
Help? What help?
After Deirdre and Frank were out of sight, I tip-toed back across the yard and entered through the kitchen door.
I could hear Mum and Dad talking in the lounge. “I’m not impressed, Jessica; not impressed at all,” Dad was saying. “You let us down.”
“It was just a joke, Dad,” Jess said and I could imagine that pugnacious look on her face. Mum and Dad must have collared Jess after she left the stables. “It wasn’t like I hurt him or anything.”
“You think it’s a joke for your brother to be parading around here and on television in girl’s clothes? Now, go upstairs and don’t come down until we call you. Consider yourself grounded. You need to think about what you’ve done; the lying to your friends and your mum and what you did to Jamie.”
“But Daaaad,”
“Don’t ‘but Dad’ me, young lady. Upstairs, toutes vite.”
“Huh!” she snorted. “Don’t know why we can’t just go home, if I’m grounded. It’d be better than here.”
“Because we can’t. The car’s not big enough for all of us.”
“Not big enough? God what did you get?”
“A Vauxhall Corsa.”
“A Vauxhall Corsa? That’s no bigger than a bloody roller-skate. I’m surprised you can even get in it. Your knees must be up round your ears.”
I could hear Mum snigger, but Dad evidently didn’t see the funny side.
“Don’t use that kind of language, young lady, now upstairs–this instant!.
I ducked out of sight and watched through the crack in the door as Jess raced upstairs, sobbing. I wondered whether I should give her some time for Megan and Chris to calm her down or just go straight up and be there with her, but then Mum and Dad started talking again.
“What are we going to do with Jamie,” Dad asked. “I really don’t like him pretending to be a girl. He’s not a girl you know.”
“I know he’s not, but for once I agree with him.”
“What!?”
“Well, he made a lot of sense in the paddock earlier. I think we may have underestimated him. He’s a thoughtful and intelligent child and I think he’s staying like he is for all the right reasons.”
“How can you say that?”
“Think about it for just a moment, will you?” Mum said patiently. “He’s been trying to make the best of a bad job. He’s been polite and no-one’s said so much as a negative word about him. Plus, he’s thinking about us and the people around him. That’s a first for a start.”
“What about us?” Dad asked. “We know he’s Jamie–our son. It’s the others he’s been lying to.”
“I don’t think he has lied, he’s just been caught up in a difficult situation, one that’s been made no easier by the fact that everyone has automatically been referring to him as ‘she’.”
“Only because he turned up in a bloody mini-skirt.”
“And whose fault was that?”
“Jess’s, but–”
“Precisely.”
“I still don’t understand how you think he’s got our best interests at heart.”
“Men!” Mum exclaimed. “How do you think it will look if all those people find out that Jamie’s a boy and we have been letting him appear as a girl?”
There was silence, but I could almost hear Dad’s internal cogs whirring and grinding away.
“Okay,” he said at last. “But I’m still not happy with it.”
“Neither am I, darling. Nevertheless, for once I think he’s got it right.”
I was completely shocked and stunned. My heart leapt–in a good way–because now, I got to stay as Jamie and didn’t have to worry about James slipping out–if you’ll pardon the term.
I crept upstairs so as not to alert Mum and Dad to the fact I had been ear-wigging their conversation and sat on the bed.
“How are you doing?” I asked of Jess.
“Alright I suppose. I’ve been grounded.”
“You didn’t do too badly, sis. It could have been worse.”
“How could it be worse? We’re on holiday and I’ve been grounded,” she asked, slapping my shoulder. “We can’t even go home.”
“Alright, I’m sorry,” I winced, rubbing my shoulder.
“You shouldn’t be sorry, Jamie,” said Megan. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Jess said dramatically. “I’m sorry, alright. God! How many times have I got to say it?”
“As many times as it takes until we believe you,” Chris replied.
All was not sweetness and light in the girls’ camp, apparently.
Mum shouted up the stairs. “Girls? Come down here please.” She sounded serious, so we slowly made our way downstairs–none of us knowing whether we were heading for more trouble.
We were greeted by the four adults in the kitchen.
“Hi–err, girls.” Dad said. He didn’t sound at all comfortable, but I didn’t let on how amused I was at his obvious distress.
“Now sit down and listen, kids. We’re in a bit of a pickle and so are Frank and Deirdre. We’ve got a car, but it’s not going to get us all home from here–even if we wanted it to,” Dad said.
“Why not?” Megan asked.
“Because it’s only a little Corsa–the only thing available. I did try and explain that we had the Renault because we needed the space, not because I like driving something that feels about as responsive as a London bus. The Corsa only seats five and even that’s going to be a squeeze, but there’s nothing we can do about it. It was take what they had or wait–several more days.”
“What’s happened to ours?” I asked.
“Water in the engine,” Dad answered, sourly. “It died when we went through a puddle. Apparently the air intake is under the car.” He rolled his eyes.
Like I knew anything about what any of that meant. “I thought you had to put water in the engine,”
“You do, but in a particular place,” he explained. “This water went where it wasn’t supposed to.”
“So, is our car, like, dead. I mean, really dead?”
“Might as well be,” he muttered with a grimace. “The water has caused the engine to seize solid and the mechanic thinks it might take ten days to two weeks to fix, by the time they’ve got the parts. Anyway, that’s all in hand. Now we don’t have the transport to get us all to the places we had planned to take you to, but we have another plan.”
As we were listening, Megan managed to scoot round pretty much unseen and attach herself to my arm once again. We stood before him like a pair of Siamese twins and when he realised what had happened, it made him look more confused and uncomfortable than ever.
“Errr, yes, well,” he said, blushing slightly. “As I was saying…” he cleared his throat. “We don’t have the resources to go elsewhere. Meanwhile, Frank and Deirdre need help and your mum and I feel that well, if we all chip in, we can help them and they can help us.”
“But what about our holiday?” I asked.
“I understand what you mean, but you won’t miss out. We can fit trips and things in; it’s just that there will be other things to do as well. I’m sure you won’t mind helping with the horses now, will you?”
The thought of getting to see Valentina again did appeal, however, there was something that didn’t quite sit right with me.
“You don’t seem convinced,” Dad observed.
“Where are we all going to sleep?” I asked.
“Now that’s the good bit,” said Dad. “Frank’s got an old caravan. You four will stay in that. It’ll be like camping. Joe and Mildred are going to go back to their own house and we will be staying in the annex.”
“Why can’t we stay with you in the annex?”
“Because it only sleeps two and besides, I thought you’d be up for the challenge.” He had a big grin on his face, but none of us changed our expressions.
“Camping you say?” Jess asked.
“Yes, Jess. Camping. That way, you won’t have to put up with us all the time.”
That bit appealed, but I’m sure the others felt as I did, that the caravan was going to be like a sardine tin and it also appeared that Mum and Dad had definitely jumped into this ’me staying as a girl’ thing with both feet. I wondered what else was up their sleeves.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you into town for some new clothes,” said Mum.
All of us got pretty excited at that.
Our first job after some sandwiches and cold drinks, was to get the horses back in from the paddock.
I watched from the gate with Deirdre, as Jess, Megan and Chris chased about the field trying desperately to round up the horses, who appeared to think that running away from three girls who were in turn running after them whilst squealing, was a very enjoyable game.
“Looks like Valentina is the ringleader,” I said.
“She certainly is. I suppose we ought to go and help.”
“I think I’d like to try something,” I said and called to Valentina, who came to me like an obedient dog. The other three girls just stood, mouths agape, as the big mare trotted across the intervening space and stood before me, the other three taking her lead and following on behind.
“One day, you’re going to have to tell me how you do that,” said Deirdre.
I didn’t know. It was just that the big grey had taken a shine to me and once she was stood by the gate, the girls plodded over, panting for breath and not at all happy.
“You could have done that sooner,” Chris said sourly.
“But you looked like you were enjoying yourselves so much; I didn’t want to spoil your fun.”
Once the horses had been fed, watered and safely locked away, we headed back to the house and a bit of a clean-up before dinner.
After that, we headed out to where Frank and Dad had put the caravan.
It wasn’t what I thought it would be either. It was more like a small self-contained flat. It had bedrooms, a kitchen and a lounge with a small portable television.
“You can’t get satellite, but it’s not too bad,” said Frank. “What do you think?”
Jess was the first one to speak.
“You mean this is all ours?”
“Yup.”
“It’s wicked,” she said and gave the Elvis look-alike a hug.
After much cleaning and getting in each other’s way, we settled down in our new holiday home–a caravan. It was actually fun. We got on together, well, sort of. Megan and Chris were still a little sore after what Jess had said or done earlier, but they mellowed and so too did Jess. In the end, we slid into our beds, grateful that the day was over.
Although I’d really enjoyed waking up with Megan in the spare room, I was glad to see that the beds were separate and singles. I needed a really good night’s sleep. I wasn’t sure about sharing a room with Jess, but like I said, I needed sleep and being squeezed in a small single bed with Megan didn’t seem to be the way to achieve that.
The next day after breakfast, Mum took us into town.
As soon as we hit a department store, the girls went crazy, making a bee-line for the various dresses, skirts and other feminine apparel. I just mosied along with Mum, wondering what she had in mind for me.
“Aren’t you going to go with your friends?” she asked.
“Um,” I replied, not really sure what to think.
“Well, I think you should. They’re going to be much better at picking out things for you than me, don’t you think?”
I couldn’t argue with that, but I have to say, I’ve never really been a fan of shopping and have certainly never been that close to women’s clothes in a shop before. I didn’t feel particularly comfortable–especially when the subject of underwear came up.
“You’ve got to have some,” said Megan. “What d’you fancy?”
My first thought wasn’t boxers, but the actual act of picking up a pack and looking at the various colours from white through to black and every tone, hue and shade in between, made me nervous.
“I think these,” she said, holding up a pack labelled ’multicoloured cotton panties’.
“Okay,” I said, snatching them away from her and quickly making my way away from that section.
“Wait!” Megan called. “These might be better.”
My goodness; I’d picked a pack and that should have been that, shouldn’t it? I mean, no-one was going to see them anyway, were they?
I plodded back only to find that she’d picked up a pack of nylon tanga-style jobs that were all shiny.
“They’ve got a display pair up there. Look.”
I looked up and unconsciously reached out to touch them.
They felt silky-smooth and sent goose-bumps tingling their way down my back, while I could feel heat radiating from my neck upwards.
“They’re a bit showy, don’t you think?” I suggested, whipping my hand away.
“Hmmm,” she replied, pressing herself up against me.
The heat got more intense. I don’t think I’ve ever blushed quite so much–ever.
“You’re embarrassed.”
“Well Duh!” I replied, turning away from the offending items as quickly as I could and nearly screwing myself into the floor in the process. “They’re… well… they’re…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“Maybe,” she sighed, putting them back on the rack. “Spoilsport.”
My heart rate dropped to about one-fifty then and I felt a great deal better, despite the hard stare I was getting from Megan.
“Ooh,” she cooed. “What about these.”
The pair she’d found came on a hanger, but were so small, I’d be surprised if they would have covered anything. Besides which, they were trimmed with delicate lace and completely transparent. Worse, they had nothing but a thin bit of string to go up between the bum cheeks.
This time I went white, followed rapidly by crimson.
Megan giggled and so did Chris and Jess.
“Now you’re just making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“Ah, but it was worth it,” Chris said, giggling some more. “Besides, we owed you one after the horse incident.”
I had been had.
“Come on, prude. Bras,” said Megan, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me like a little doll, round the various stands and racks.
I sighed. This wasn’t nearly as easy as it had been as James. Then I was pretty much given what I needed to wear, had very little say and even less to do with it all. It was so simple.
Now however, it was fully interactive shopping.
I wasn’t sure I liked it at all.
Mum came over and asked how we were getting on.
“She’s a bit negative, Mrs. Powers,” said Chris. “Doesn’t seem particularly interested at all, in fact.”
“Come on, Jamie. There must be stuff here you like.”
I blushed, deep, deep scarlet and they all laughed–again.
“I’ve got something for you,” said Mum, taking me to one side and taking out a bag, which she handed to me.
“You’ll need these if you’re to be able to pass,” she said.
“Pass? What d’you mean, pass?”
“Your breasts, dear.”
I felt like a set of traffic lights, going from one colour to another and back again. When I considered this being a girl thing, it didn’t include any of this stuff and when I opened my bag from Mum, I changed colour yet again.
Inside, were two pieces of jelly-like stuff that looked remarkably like a pair of boobs.
“What do I do with these?” I asked.
“What d’you think?”
“No! Really?”
Mum nodded. “They come with adhesive, so they don’t come off when you’re braless or something comes loose.”
“You mean you have to stick them on?”
“That’s right. Come with me and we’ll sort it out now.”
“Now?”
“Is there a parrot in here?”
“Where?”
“Never mind. Just come in here with me and take off that top and bra.”
I stepped into the cubicle and whipped off my t-shirt and bra, letting the socks fall to the floor.
“Lay down,” Mum said.
I looked about me. The cubicle was about five feet deep and four feet wide. “Where?”
“On the seat. If you have to, put your feet up. You need to be lying down.”
I did as I was told and gasped as my back touched the cold surface of the seat.
“You’ll need to lie still and I’ll fit these so we can get on.”
After about five minutes, I was told to stand up–and boy, did that feel weird.
The forms–as I now know them to be called–were cold when mum first put them on my chest and I could feel them sticking to my skin like heavy plasters, but the real difference was when I stood up. They weren’t big, not like real big Angelina Jolie boobs, but they had more weight than I was expecting.
“They feel weird,” I said, cupping each one in each hand.
“Don’t fuss with them,” Mum said in a business-like tone. “Here; put these back on.”
I put the bra on–with Mum’s help.
“You’re going to have to learn how to do that yourself, sweetheart,” she said.
“I haven’t had much time to practice,” I said defensively.
“Well, you’ll have to learn quickly, won’t you?”
I pouted and slipped on my t-shirt.
The feeling of it all together was–odd I think is the best term. It wasn’t strange–once the bra was on, but there was a kind of pull from my chest.
“Is this what having real breasts is like?” I asked.
“Almost,” she replied.
We rejoined the others and I have to say, I was somewhat abstracted. I’d looked at myself in the mirror after I’d dressed and there was a definite difference between before and after. Any vestiges of boyishness that had been there before had completely vanished and all that was left was pure girl. I didn’t mention it, but I could see that even Mum was shocked.
I didn’t just ’decide’ to leave James behind in that changing room, it just happened. I knew then that Mum wanted me to be as near to a real girl as possible–without calling out a plumber, so to speak.
I didn’t know exactly why she had decided to go down that route, but that was what happened and I figured I’d do the best I could. My new look wasn’t met with universal approval, as Jess began looking at me in a very weird way. I just ignored her and just got on with the job of immersing myself in femininity.
I knew what the girls at school liked to wear. There was no uniform and there were girls wearing all sorts of different styles and whatnot, so I had more than half an idea about what should be going on my body.
So far, I had only panties and the next job was a bra–or two. Mum helped by supplying me with size, since she knew the cup size of my boobs, but it was a slightly stunned Megan, who couldn’t seem to take her eyes off my nice new chest, who helped to choose colours and designs.
After that, we had been left pretty much to our own devices. We were under strict instructions to get things which would be practical except for something nice–should we need it. I can’t even remember what I had taken for James–I don’t suppose it was anything really good, but I decided now was the time to change all that.
I wanted leggings as part of my ’practical’ stuff, but Megan and Chris introduced me to something I hadn’t heard of before–jeggings.
“What?” I asked.
“Jeggings. They’re leggings–sort of, but they’re made to look like skinny jeans.”
I blinked a couple of times as I was shown a pair of blue jeans, which weren’t.
“Wow!” I exclaimed as I stepped from the changing room.
“We’ll have to do something about the shoes though. They’re not exactly right.”
“What’s wrong with them?” I asked.
“You’ll learn,” replied Chris, with a roll of her eyes.
For that ensemble, I ended up with a pair of Converse All-Stars in red and a couple of tops with spaghetti straps–in case I felt brave enough to go without a bra. I went beet red at the prospect of that, but Megan and Chris just laughed and Megan winked.
Jess was severely put out by what was happening.
“How come you’ve got bigger ones than me?” she whined.
“Just lucky I guess,” I replied.
She huffed and stomped off and before I could even think about what had just happened, I was whisked off towards another section–dresses.
“Well, you need something nice and since we don’t have unlimited budget, I suggest we find you something you can wear with the sandals,” said Megan, rubbing her chin, thoughtfully.
Now the sandals were dark brown to begin with, but since they’d been muddied and soaked, they’d gone a lot darker.
“Maybe we could get away with that,” Chris mused and she and Megan disappeared into the myriad racks that stood like bushes in an overgrown garden.
Moments later, they returned with nearly a dozen dresses of one form or another, but my eye was drawn to a blue one. Even as James, I liked blue and this one had an almost iridescent quality about it.
“She has got taste,” said Chris. “Thank God.”
I disappeared into the cubicles to try it on and emerged to gasps.
“What d’you think?” I asked, knowing full well what they thought.
I don’t think I have ever felt as good as I did with Megan and Chris helping, but they really took what they felt was their duty to initiate a ’new’ girl into the delights and intricacies of shopping.
We all changed into one of our new outfits before we left and I got to try out my new jeggings. I still feel that’s a silly word–a bit like ’spork’, totally stupid–but it didn’t detract from how I looked. Even Mum was surprised. Whether that was pleasantly or otherwise, I’m not sure; she was too busy blanching at the cost of re-outfitting four girls, herself and Dad.
I would like to think it was pleasant.
I didn’t really think about Jess much during the course of that shopping expedition, but afterwards, I felt really mean. Chris and Megan had been buzzing around me like bees round a honey-pot, paying little or no attention to what she was doing and she looked like her whole world just collapsed from underneath her.
Mum saw it too and made a special point of giving her, her undivided attention, but it wasn’t the same, I could see that. I could have done something about it, but I didn’t. I was too wrapped up in all this new stuff, the attention I was getting and for Jess it was about to get even worse…
In the next chapter: Aren’t you…?
Emerging from the strip lights and subdued colours of the department store, we stepped into the bright sunlight of the main street, loaded down with bag upon bag of clothing and that’s where it all began…
Emerging from the strip lights and subdued colours of the department store, we stepped into the bright sunlight of the main street, loaded down with bag upon bag of clothing and that’s where it all began…
A big up to Gabi who's done a sterling job with what follows--as always and also a hug to Ang, Kris, Jo and Kirri because they were so very concerned about me, as was Gabs. Thanks ladies.
Are you all sitting comfortably?
Then I shall begin dot... dot... dot...
“Did you see the way they were looking at you in there?” Chris whispered surreptitiously as we stepped into the sunshine.
I was a little confused by her observation. I hadn’t noticed anything. Then again, I was fairly preoccupied with adjusting to the weight on my chest. “What d’you mean? Is there something wrong?” I replied, wondering whether mum had put one or both of my new breasts on upside down or something.
“Nothing at all,” said Megan, tightly hanging on to my arm and grinning up at me, her impish gaze, darting from my eyes to my breasts and back again.
“Then why were they looking at me?” I asked of no-one in particular.
Chris had unwittingly planted the seed of doubt in my head by telling me that people were looking at me. To me, even the slightest glance in my direction was a stare and whilst I should have realised it was just normal behaviour, plus I would probably have been recognisable from my pictures both in the papers and on the television–especially round here, I didn’t. From then on, in my head, it was a case of everybody was staring at me.
I tried to be invisible–to just fade into the scenery–but thanks to what Mum had welded to my chest, that was impossible. My new boobs wobbled most of the time and when they weren’t wobbling, they jiggled. It was most disconcerting, but that wasn’t the worst of it. They were quite a good deal larger than Chris’s, Jess’s or Megan’s and I could tell by Jess’s almost constant scowling, that my suddenly having bigger boobs than her, grated somewhat.
Despite my attempts to disappear into the background, I still felt hundreds–even thousands–of eyes on me, boring into the back of my head, sometimes staring openly, sometimes smiling and even waving, but always there.
“You alright?” Mum asked.
“Not really,” I told her. “People keep staring at me.”
“They’re not staring,” she scoffed.
“Yes they are,” I insisted with controlled patience, stopping and looking her straight in the eye as the others continued on down the road.
“Listen, Jamie. I think you’re over dramatising things a bit. People look at people. I don’t think they’re ‘staring’, I just think you’re unused to your new breasts. I can understand that, but you’re a pretty girl, you’re going to get looked at. It’s one of those things you’ve got to get used to.”
I’ve got to get used to, eh?
How long was she expecting me to stay like this?
She had just referred to me as a girl–and a pretty girl at that. What was she playing at? I thought she was just supposed to be helping me to convince the others of the idea that I wasn’t a boy. If that was her idea of helping, I think it had taken a sharp left turn at ‘enough’, and was heading straight for ‘way, way over the top’.
God alone knew what Dad was going to say about it, never mind the others who were going to see a girl who had suddenly ‘blossomed’–or should that be ‘bosomed’–in the space of a few short hours.
“Probably would have been better if I didn’t have these,” I muttered angrily, pointing at my chest.
“All girls have them,” Mum replied, casually. “You’re no different.”
“Not like these,” I growled. “Look. They’re huge.”
“They’re not huge. They were the smallest ones they make.”
“What was wrong with what I had before?”
“Those? You are joking aren’t you?”
“No,” I assured her–and I wasn’t. What I had before seemed much more the size of Megan’s, Chris’s or Jess’s, so I didn’t feel any different–at least visually. I felt they fitted me and I fitted with them–the girls that was.
“It was obvious they weren’t real,” she stated, folding her arms, tilting her head to one side and looking at me very critically indeed. “Those look much better.”
“And no-one’s going to notice that I went out with mole-hills and came back with mountains?”
She raised an eyebrow threateningly.
“It’s not like I don’t appreciate them, Mum,” I said, backpedalling rapidly. “But don’t you think these are a bit much?”
The threat-value of Mum’s expression increased ten-fold.
“Comparatively speaking, I mean,” I added quickly.
“I think they look much better than screwed up socks that didn’t even seem that convincing in the first place. If you’re going to do something, do it properly. That’s what your dad’s always saying.”
There was no reasoning with her and to make matters worse, she was quoting Dad–as if he had any say in any of this. I scowled and got on with trying to be invisible, crossing my arms over my now ample bosom to try and hide what felt like two family-sized igloos protruding from my ribs. We continued down the road to catch up with Jess and the others.
As we walked, I became increasingly aware of the stares–especially from the boys, who were unashamedly looking at my breasts, no matter how I tried to disguise them. Those horny bastards were staring at them. There was no denying that my boobs were attracting a lot of attention.
“What’s the matter?” asked Megan, linking arms with me.
“Oh, nothing,” I responded.
“Really?” she queried, evidently unconvinced.
“Well, it’s these tits. They’re so huge and everyone keeps looking at me.”
“Oh,” she said off-handedly. “You’ll get used to it. We get it all the time–with or without tits.”
“Yeah, but it’s making me feel so self conscious. I mean, I never thought it would come to this. I thought it would all be over by now.”
“Were you?” she asked. There was a note of disappointment in her voice.
“Well, yeah. I thought since I our holiday was ruined, we’d head somewhere else and I could be James again.”
“Don’t you like being Jamie?”
“It’s not whether I like it or not. It’s just not right.”
“Are you saying that it’s not right because you don’t like it or because it’s what you think other people think?”
I had to stop and think there.
I did like being Jamie, because aside from Jess, no-one told me off, but was that all? It didn’t seem enough to go around pretending to be my sister’s sister instead of her brother.
“I see,” she said.
“You see what? I haven’t answered yet.”
“No, which means you had to think about it and if you have to think about it, there must be things you like. Don’t be embarrassed. I can understand how not getting shouted at or picked on can be appealing, but I think it’s more than that.”
“More?”
She shrugged.
“Are you suggesting I actually like being a girl?” I asked, my eyes going wide; partly by the thought of her seeing that I enjoyed being Jamie and partly because I’d raised my voice and I was afraid someone heard.
“I think so. It comes naturally to you and I think you find it easier than being a boy. You don’t seem to be trying so hard.”
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Well, after what we discussed in the bedroom, I mean you, me, Chris and Jess, I think so. Look, you really are very pretty and I’m not just saying that. You’re a bit awkward at the moment, but that’s because you’re not used to the new boobs, but don’t give up yet. It’s only wrong if someone finds out and it’s up to you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
I tried to ignore the ‘pretty’ comment and suspected that Megan was just being nice. I didn’t suppose she really meant what she said, but it had a curious effect on me.
It made me feel good.
In fact it made me feel very good.
We stopped at a café further down the road. Apparently Mum needed a coffee injection. She confessed that she hadn’t expected a shopping trip with four girls to have been such an experience. I wanted to tell her there were only three girls, but after the conversation followed by her ‘pretty’ comment earlier, I didn’t think it wise.
With soft drinks–or coffee in Mum’s case–and sandwiches all round, we sat at a table and discussed the day’s purchases.
The girl’s first pulled out bikinis, holding each of them up for all to see. Mine was a one-piece, quite nice. It was one of those racing-type swimsuits; all shiny and black with the cutaway back.
“How come mine had to be a one piece?” I asked.
“Because,” Mum said quietly. “You have to have those things covered up.” She paused, looking at me as my mouth began moving, but before the sound could exit, she added; “And before you start, you had to have those things so that a) they would look like breasts and not screwed up socks and b) they wouldn’t disappear down round your waist like the socks would have done as soon as you went swimming and got wet.”
I blushed to the roots of my hair and quickly pulled out the small makeup kits we all got, to try and change the subject, but it was too late. The girls were all giggling–even mum.
Shortly afterwards, Mum went to pay and go to the ladies–though not necessarily in that order. While she was gone, Jess and Chris noticed some boys who were sitting at a table near us. They were comparing notes and Jess had claimed one with short blonde hair.
“You can have him,” said Chris. “I think his mate’s much better.”
“Go on. The old woman’s gone now,” whispered one of the boys, probably unaware that we could hear them.
“Er, I dunno,” another whispered, evidently unsure or unwilling.
“You’re never gonna know if you don’t, are you?”
The next thing I knew, the very one Jess had ‘laid claim’ to, came right up to the table. She immediately went all doe-eyed.
“Hi,” she squeaked.
He smiled briefly and said “hi” back then immediately turned his attention to me. “Er, hi,” he said nervously. “Aren’t you, um, that is, I, er, saw you on the telly, didn’t I?”
I was surprised at my reaction; calm and not in the least self-conscious. “Did you?” I asked, looking directly at him.
“Er,” he said, shuffling even more nervously from one foot to the other and nodding. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“And, like, did you really save all those people?”
“Not really,” I told him, wondering how many ’all’ might have been. “My sister, Jess, Chris and Megan really got the people to safety. I just went in and got the cat.”
“There was a cat too?”
“Ye–es,” I said, wondering whether he actually paid any attention to the reports in either the paper or on the television. Then I realised, he was a typical ‘lad’ and to have expected him to have actually paid attention was asking rather a lot. “A cat named Joey. A right little so-and-so.”
“Right,” he said, nodding again.
I could see right there that he wasn’t really that interested in why I’d been on the television, just that I had. I also noticed that his mates had sidled up to him and were starting to gawp at me over his shoulder, nudging him in the ribs.
“Oy, gerroff!” he exclaimed and his mate mouthed something to him. “Oh, er, yeah.”
He paused.
“Um, like, er…” The sentence sort of drifted into nothing as he shuffled about beside me.
“He wants to know if you’ll go out with him,” his mate supplied, ending with a snort, while the others–except for the guy concerned–laughed into their hands.
I don’t know why, but I felt a serious kick in the shin accompanied by a scowl from Jess and an elbow in the ribs from Megan, who didn’t scowl, but pouted, which in my experience–short as it was–seemed eminently more dangerous.
“Ow! Er–” I began, but it was all cut short.
“I don’t think so,” Mum informed him gently. “I’m afraid we’re only here on holiday and are staying quite a way outside of town–which reminds me, time to go, girls. Grab your things.”
We left the boys and headed back to where we’d parked the car with Jess’s scowls burning a hole in the back of my head and Megan’s pout big enough to sit on.
What had I done?
Back at Cliffside, I went to my room and flopped on the bed, letting the bags scatter around me.
“I hope you’re pleased,” Jess growled from the doorway.
“Pleased? Why would I be pleased? What’s going on? Neither you nor Megan said anything to me after we left the café. What did I do?”
“What did you do?” she asked, her voice going up at least half an octave. “You flirted with that boy in the café even though you knew
I’d called dibs on him and what’s worse, you did it in front of Megan. How d’you think she felt?”
“Flirted? What do you mean, flirted?”
“You know exactly what I mean. The way you looked at him, the way you spoke to him, everything.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell you don’t.”
“I don’t,” I called as Jess stormed off.
I really didn’t understand what I’d done.
I left everything exactly where it was and sloped off outside, heading for the stables and a friendly–if long–face.
The grey mare came straight to me and nuzzled her lips into my neck, which tickled slightly and would have made me giggle if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was feeling so low. I reached round and cuddled back and she snickered very quietly and gently.
“What is it with everyone?” I asked, knowing I wasn’t going to get a response. “I can’t seem to do anything without them thinking I’m going out of my way to hurt them.”
“Perhaps it’s that they feel threatened by you?”
I let go of Valentina’s head and spun round so fast I nearly fell over. I wound up staring into Chris’s eyes. “Threatened?”
“Well, you got the boy Jess was after and I’m not sure what Megan’s up to, but I think she’s pretty hung up on you–has been since the first time she met you. I think that’s because you look like Jess.” She shrugged. “Of course, I’m just guessing.”
“You mean–” I didn’t want to say it, but it made perfect sense. “Megan might be–”
“Gay?” Chris cut in, patting Valentina’s face. She turned back to me and nodded solemnly.
“That wasn’t what I was going to say, but I suppose. Why would she be into me then?”
“Have you looked at yourself?”
“Well, yes of course, but I’m a boy.”
“Not right now you’re not.”
“Look, I may be dressed like this, but underneath I’m still James.”
“Hmm,” she said, looking very sceptical.
“I am!” I exclaimed.
Chris turned away and concentrated on Valentina again. “Whatever, but you could have fooled me. In fact, I think you’ve fooled just about everyone.”
“Just about?” I asked. That seemed to mean that not everyone believed I was a girl and could even mean that some might have known that I wasn’t.
“Well, alright. Everyone–including you.”
“Me? Don’t be silly. I know what I am. This is only a holiday thing.”
“Okay; whatever. Look, I just wanted to tell you that your mum wants to see you before you have a shower and put something nice on. I think we’re all going out to dinner somewhere nice.”
“Oh cool,” I said giving Valentina a quick pat and a kiss. “Looks like I’m going to wear that dress after all.”
Chris looked at me, her brow furrowed.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she replied rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
“Ah there you are,” Mum said.
I was pretty certain what this little chat was going to bring: “Behave yourself,” “don’t argue with Jess and her friends” etc, etc. I got ready for it.
“How are you now?” she asked very gently and with noticeable concern. “Are you getting used to your new er, ‘attributes’?”
I wasn’t ready for that at all. It was like the ‘chat’ we had in the paddock, I wasn’t prepared for that either.
“They’re alright I suppose. They’re a lot to get used to, but as Megan pointed out, I’ll just have to get used to being looked at.”
“How are the girls taking your change?”
“Megan’s not speaking to me after what happened in the café,” I told her. “And Jess is absolutely livid that I should have flirted with the boy she’d laid claim to, but it wasn’t like that, honest, Mum. I wasn’t flirting. I mean, per–lease. I’m a boy for God’s sake.”
Mum looked at me a bit strangely then, but shook it off.
“That kind of rivalry is always happening between friends and especially siblings when potential boy or girlfriends come into view. It would happen even if the boy had been a girl and you’d all been boys.”
“So…” I began, trying to get my head round that last bit. “It would have happened no matter what?”
“Probably,” she replied. “Now, in light of the friction between you, Jess and Megan, I’d like you to come and get your hair and makeup done here,” she told me, without the least trace of anything resembling a stern talking to.
“Why? Do I have to wear makeup?” I whinged.
“Of course you do. You might be able to get away without it during the day, but you’re not going out in your nice new dress without it and I want to do it because I don’t want your sister or the others turning you into something I’m not happy with.”
“She, I mean ‘they’ wouldn’t,” I assured her.
“Oh no?” That famous rise of the eyebrow told me she didn’t believe me. “Look what happened last time.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“So I need you to go and shower and change. Come back quickly so I can do your hair and makeup.”
“Okay,” I said and gave Mum a hug and a kiss. “Thanks, Mum.”
“I really am very proud of you, you know.” She smiled at me and then turned me to face the door, patted me a couple of times on the bum and said, “Now, hurry along there and make sure you wear clean underwear.”
“Yes, Mum,” I called as I left. I felt a warm fuzzy feeling all the way down to the pit of my stomach and couldn’t help grinning–probably quite stupidly.
When I got to the caravan, I saw that the door to the shower was open and jumped in, locking it behind me.
“Who’s in the bathroom?” Jess shouted. “I bagsed it first.”
“Tough titties, sis. I wasn’t here when you did that, was I?”
“Ooooh! I HATE you!”
“Can’t hear you!” I called over the top of the sound of the shower as the hot water ran over my body; cascading over my boobs and dripping off the very slightly raised nipples. I could have watched it for hours, but the banging on the door was enough to bring me out of my reverie.
“Come on, we’ve all got to use it you know.”
“Pass me a towel and you can have it,” I called back.
There was the sound of scampering feet disappearing then as quickly as they disappeared, they got louder as they approached and were followed by a polite knocking on the door.
“Jamie?”
I opened up and poked my head round to see Chris’s face beaming at me.
“Quickly, before Jess comes back,” she whispered conspirationally.
I wrapped the towel round me–just like I’d seen Mum do thousands of times before and was out before you could say Jack Robinson.
“Wow! They really do look real,” Chris said as she closed the door. I looked down. The towel had covered everything and cleavage was clearly visible. I hoiked the towel up a bit further to cover them properly and blushed.
“Oops!” I said, but thought Chris was right. You could hardly see the join between me and the boobs. They must have been expensive.
Moments later when I was drying myself off and admiring my new and very realistic tits in the mirror, I heard Jess go past.
“Isn’t he finished yet?” she grumbled. “There’ll be no hot water left. Jamie!!.”
“Wassup?” I asked, poking my head out of my room.
“You’re out?”
“Looks that way.”
“Then who’s in the shower?”
“Chris.”
“That’s just brrrr-illiant!” she muttered as she stormed off back to her room, slamming the door behind her and continuing to mutter and grumble.
I chuckled to myself as it’s usually her who’s hogging the bathroom at home and can spend untold amounts of time there. This was a bit of payback.
I took the dress out of the bag and off the hanger, laying it neatly on the bed. The material was kind of satin-like, smooth and soft to the touch. A strange shiver ran up my spine as I prepared to put it on. I’d already tried it on briefly in the shop, but this was for real. In the shop, it felt surreal.
Did I really want to go through with this?
Could I really go through with this?
After the conversations earlier with Mum and Megan, I felt about as able as I was ever going to be. I actually felt kind of excited to be going out dressed up. I hardly ever got to do that at home, for the simple reason that all I had were a couple of pairs of trousers which I wore for school and a pair which were for best–“Weddings and funerals”, as Dad said.
To go with those, I basically had school shirts, sweatshirts, jumpers or t-shirts–provided they were clean and not torn or had any kind of slogan emblazoned across either the front or rear. There didn’t seem much point in anything else as Mum and Dad reckoned I’d grow out of nice things too quickly.
Apparently, that wasn’t the case with me.
So, my wardrobe consisted of casuals: the aforementioned tops and a pair of trousers to make them ‘smart’ casuals. I can remember Jess having a new dress pretty much for each special occasion–not that there were that many of them–while I made do with what I had. Mind you, Dad’s stuff wasn’t so different, though he did own a couple of suits, but I didn’t feel left out in any way.
When you come to think about it though, this clothes thing is a real downer for a lot of blokes. Shoes come basically in two colours–brown or black, unless they’re sports shoes, in which case, they can be pretty much any colour. Trousers aren’t that much better, although you could add blue, beige and grey to those; when you think of the variety women have to choose from, I think men’s clothes suck.
Anyway, after my conversation with Megan, I knew I was in a very privileged position; one where I could sample the entire lifestyle–well, okay, maybe not entire lifestyle exactly, but I could certainly live life as a female for a short while, which is something many crave, yet for one reason or another cannot have. There were still things I was afraid of, but they were all well up the road and for the time being, I had made my mind up to go with the flow; to let what is, be and meet what was to come when it arrived.
I think what made me change my mind was the addition of the boobs. Up until then, I could take the falsies off and have some ‘James’ time, but after they’d been fixed to my chest, Jamie had to be there all the time, James was gone and it was just a case of getting used to it. However, I don’t suppose I’d have arrived at that conclusion without Megan’s help.
Sitting there on the bed, absently stroking the soft cotton fabric of the dress, eyes unfocussed as I considered everything, I reached down for one of the bags of things that Mum had bought me at the shops and took out the pack of knickers. I read the label.
The clear cellophane wrapper clearly showed five pairs of knickers, each neatly rolled to display a tiny bow in the centre of the waistband. Each pair was a different colour, which made me laugh; an ironic kind of laugh, because prior to then, if I’d been caught messing with either Mum’s or Jess’s underwear, I’d have got myself into more trouble than I’d have known what to do with and if I’d have asked for some of my own, God only knows what would have happened.
This time I was being positively encouraged in fact, told to wear them. I was being encouraged to wear things that before I wouldn’t have been allowed to be seen dead in. The colours were lemon yellow, pale pink, mint green, baby blue and lavender, and that meant that at least three of the five colours alone would have been a complete no-no. I opened the pack and drew out the baby blue ones, since it occurred to me that those would go with the dress and laughed again.
Was I actually giving thought to matching underwear to outerwear?
I unrolled the small garment and nearly died on the spot, my face becoming flushed as sweat beaded on my forehead.
“Megan!” I called and waited, but there was no answer.
I continued to look at the undergarment, feeling the colour drain from my face.
“Megan!!”
After a few moments, no doubt debating whether she was talking to me or not, she arrived. “What d’you want?”
She walked up to the bed, silent, looking.
“You know, those breasts aren’t bad looking at all,” she said. “And with a little makeup round the edges–maybe a little rouge on the nips, they’d look totally real.”
“It’s not the tits,” I said quietly. I held up the underwear and I’m sure my face was white.
“Very nice, now what’s the problem?”
“Which way round do these go?” I asked in a very small voice.
“Well, duh!” she admonished and snatched them from my hands.
“See?”
There was a short pause–which I expected.
“OhmyGod!”
“I know.”
“Are you going to wear them–er it?”
“I have to. I don’t have anything else and Mum was fairly positive about me wearing clean underwear.”
She looked at me, holding the pale blue thong before her and moving it around. Then her mouth widened into a very big grin. “You are going to wear them aren’t you?”
“What’s the matter?” asked Chris, coming in, her hair bedraggled and a brush stuck in it, which she was feverishly trying to pull back out. She looked me up and down. “They really do look good you know.”
I ignored her remark, my issue with the thong my current problem. The idea of modesty, having my false tits on display to my friends didn’t seem to be a particularly high priority.
“Nothing,” said Megan, her face turning instantly innocent as she quickly hid the blue ‘thing’ behind her.
“Don’t give me that,” Chris admonished. “I know you too well. What’s going on?”
“Alright…” Megan said, dramatically producing the blue thong thing, dangling it before her friend.
Chris’s eyes went wide. “Wow. Does your mum know you bought these?”
I shook my head. “It just said panties on the label and anyway,” I said with a shrug. “She paid for them.”
“But you are going to wear it aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Wow!” she said with some awe. “I’d be hard pressed to get what I’ve got covered by that. I don’t know how you’re going to cover that!”
“What?!!” I spluttered, having neglected to realise I wasn’t just topless, I was completely naked and on display to both Megan and Chris, both of whom were looking on inquisitively. “Oh,” I said, blushing furiously and doing my best to close my legs whilst surreptitiously tucking the offending appendage between them, out of sight and, I hoped, out of mind.
“Hey,” said Megan poking around at the thong. “The gusset here is like a little pocket. D’you think you can get your um, wassname in there?”
I looked and blushed more, snatching the thong from Megan and telling them to bugger off.
“I was only trying to help,” Megan said with massive a pout.
“Some people are never grateful,” said Chris sagely, turning before she left the room and flashing me a wink.
“Oh shit!” I sighed, idly toying with underpants that seemed no bigger than a postage stamp. I stood up, holding them up against me and Chris was right, it did seem a little optimistic that I would fit all of me inside and looking at what appeared to be a tiny little pocket to fit my bits in seemed idiotically hopeful.
But I gave it a go.
Trouble was, the thought of putting something on that I’d only seen busty page three models in the tabloids wearing, gave me hot flushes and an unseemly amount of interest from the very item I was hoping would stay small–if you know what I mean.
It took some time, but I managed to get myself under control–although ‘how’ is not the important part. The sensation of the material sliding between my bum cheeks and right up to my–well, you get the picture–was a little weird, but I kept going. I figured that if so many wear them, how bad can they be?
Eventually I managed not only to keep ‘wossname’ under control, but also got it tucked–barely, but tucked–neatly away and I stood before the mirror.
“Holy crap!” I wheezed.
“Figured them out–” Megan asked as she breezed into my room and froze, her jaw hovering just a fraction of an inch above the floor. “Fuck me!”
I couldn’t help giggling. My immediate thought was “yes please”, but I kept that to myself. However, more amusing was the fact that it was the first time I had heard her swear and with the look on her face, her eyes out on stalks as she looked at me in nothing but a baby blue thong, I got the most amazing rush. “You like?” I asked, batting my eyelashes, turning and looking slightly over one shoulder and making a half-hearted attempt to cover my breasts.
“Like? Like?” She didn’t answer but ran, leapt and virtually wrapped herself around me, gluing her mouth to mine and never mind tonsil hockey, I wondered whether she could tell what I had for breakfast. I can tell you that that thong was not the most comfortable of things to wear during that little exchange.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“We-ell, I don’t know,” she said. “You were flirting with that boy in the café, weren’t you?”
“I wasn’t, honest. I wouldn’t even know how to flirt, you should know that.”
“Maybe, but don’t do it again.”
With that, she glued herself to my lips again.
“Um,” I struggled, breathlessly. “Can you help me with my dress, please?”
Within minutes, my breasts were encased in their brassiere and I was gently pulling my new dress up my legs, over my hips and then slipping my arms through the narrow straps, turning to allow Megan to pull up the zip.
The dress fairly clung to all the right places and made me look as though I had a much more feminine figure than I actually did. It was close fitting to the hips whereupon it flaired slightly to the hem, which ended about four inches above the knee.
“What d’you think?” I asked, twirling to the left and right before the mirror.
The dress was shorter than I had remembered, but it wasn’t so short that I was in danger of displaying my undercarriage to all and sundry. I felt a little giddy actually; not from the twirling, but because I could feel the way the soft material brushed whisper-like across my thighs as I moved and when I spun, the skirt flaired out and it felt amazing. Yes, amazing or better still, electrifying.
“I’m speechless,” Megan said huskily.
“I take it that’s good?”
“Oh, it’s good alright,” she said shaking her head. “How are you feeling?”
“Wicked,” I replied, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m really looking forward to this.”
“Do you want help with makeup and stuff?”
“Thanks, but Mum wants to do it.”
“She does?” She seemed surprised.
“Yeah, well, she says she can’t trust Jess and we didn’t think you were talking to me, so she offered. Anyway, look upon it as a surprise.”
She clapped her hands together gleefully. “I like surprises!” she said and reached up and grabbed me for one last knee-trembling kiss.
On the way back to Mum, I couldn’t help wondering what Dad would think of all this. I was fairly certain he’d go white when he saw me in that dress. It wasn’t as if it was revealing or anything, but it was after all, a dress.
Mum was very business-like when I got back to their room.
“I thought I told you to be quick,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I had a bit of trouble.”
“Everything alright?”
Oh, fine.” I replied, resisting the urge to pick at the thong and deciding that to tell her about it would probably not be wise. She wouldn’t even let Jess wear thongs and heaven alone knows what she’d have thought about me wearing them.
“I wish we’d got you a haircut,” she said, pulling my hair this way and that.
“Ow, easy,” I whined.
“Well, I have to try and make a silk purse out of this sow’s ear.”
“Don’t sugar-coat it eh, Mum. Just go right ahead and say what you mean.”
“You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s no good. There’s no way I’m going to be able to do anything with this. Go change back into your casuals, we’re going out.”
“But Mum,” I whined. “We can’t cut it. I’m trying to grow it.”
“Not today you’re not. Now scram.”
That’s my Mum all over. Once she gets an idea in her head, that’s it. Not Dad, me, Jess–anyone can stop her and I was yanked up by the wrist and almost dragged outside and shoved towards the caravan.
“What are you doing back here and what’s happened to your hair?” Megan asked, immediately smoothing it this way and that to try and bring some semblance of order to the mop on my head.
“Mum’s got this idea that we’re going to the hairdressers.”
“Ooh,” she enthused. “Can I come?”
“I don’t know. You’d best ask Mum.”
Moments later with me in my jeggings and a t-shirt, all four of us headed out towards the car.
“What are you all doing here?” Mum asked.
“If Jamie’s going to have her hair done, we should be there,” Jess announced pointedly.
“But–”
“Oh Muuuuuum.”
“Alright. Get in.”
The five of us clambered into the car and Mum drove like our lives depended upon it. There wasn’t a sound from any of us as we sat there, Jess, who’d bagged shotgun in the front and the rest of us, huddled together holding each other’s hands as we sped towards town.
“Does she always drive like that?” Chris asked as we got out in the car park.
“Not usually.”
We walked into the salon; a place called ‘Simon’ and we were told to sit down while Mum spoke to the receptionist. Both of them were quietly talking and every now and then, one, other or both of them would look over at me. I felt like I was being sized up for an auction or something.
Mum came and sat next to me, took out her mobile and called Dad.
“We might be a little later than I’d hoped… No, we’re at Simon’s, the hairdressers… No it’s perfectly alright… Jamie will not come back looking like a dog’s dinner. I’ll see you shortly.”
The five of us waited until eventually, the woman that Simon was attending left.
“Would you like to come over,” lisped the short, dark-haired man who was the salon’s namesake. “Don’t I know you?” he asked, his fingertips resting gently on his chin. “No, don’t tell me; I never forget a face.”
I looked at him as he fussed round me with the gown.
“I know I know you from somewhere,” he said, actually looking somewhat exasperated.
“It might have been from the television.”
“No, I’d have remembered that.”
“Newspapers?”
“Possibly. Oh well,” he said as he picked up a comb and his scissors. “I’m sure it will come to me. Now, then young lady, what can we do for you today?”
“Well, I really wish I could have hair like my sister. I’m trying to grow it,” I told him looking at him in the mirror.
He turned. “Which one’s–ah yes.” He turned and looked back at me, his face straight. “I’m afraid I don’t cut hair any longer.”
I stared at his reflection and his face showed not the tiniest amount of mirth, yet on mine, numerous emotions and thought patterns flickered across until finally I got it.
“Oh ha, ha, ha,” I congratulated him and his mouth turned upwards in a huge grin.
“The old ones are the best,” he said. “Now, I think your short-haired friend has the best cut, but yours should be slightly different. Maybe we could give you a heavier fringe?”
“Sounds okay to me. I’ll leave it to you.”
“Well, I’d like to put in some colour,” he said, looking round at Mum.
“Much as I’d love to see that, maybe another time. We have to get back to Cliffside.”
“That’s it!” Simon said with a huge grin. “You’re that girl aren’t you? You know, the one they’ve called the Cliffside Heroine.”
I blushed.
“Well, well, well. Someone really famous in my salon at last.”
Within forty minutes, I had been shampooed, cut, styled and blown dry. Like Megan’s cut, mine was a bit of a pixie cut, where the fringe swept across my left eye. “What d’you think?” I asked, feeling like a million quid.
“Blimey,” said Jess. “You look just like that girl off Bourne–er, what’s her name?”
“Styles,” said Chris. “Julia Styles.”
“Wow, yeah.” agreed Megan. “The hair’s not the same, but I never noticed it before. You do look like her.”
Mum beamed at me. “See? Much better.”
“Make sure you bring her back, won’t you, Mrs. Powers. The colouring’s on me.”
“Thank you, Simon,” I said and gave him a hug. Boy could he blush too–even more than me.
Back in the car and we were all pretty animated with the coming events planned for the evening. None of us girls knew what was happening and if they did, none of them were letting on. Even Jess was turned round for most of the trip back so that we could all four of us chat.
“Er, excuse me, ladies,” Mum said, as she made a left turn. “But we don’t have that much time now, so I’m going to have to ask for your assistance in helping to get Jamie ready. Can I count on it?”
“No problems, Mum,” said Jess. “Chris is about the best with nails, so maybe she can do that while Megan or I can do her toes?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Mum agreed and within minutes, we were pulling up into the car park of Cliffside.
We piled into the caravan and the whole place was a complete buzz of excitement and I was the centre of attention. It was odd, but odd in a really nice way. I’d never had so much attention that wasn’t something to do with having done something wrong, or having been dropped in the brown, smelly stuff by someone else–or being picked on. Jess was in a strange mood too. She seemed to be taking all of what was going on in surprisingly good part and I was just waiting for the real Jess to show through.
I’d just got back into my dress and sprayed under my arms with some antiperspirant when Mum turned up.
“Come on then girls, let’s get to it.”
Mum concentrated on my eyebrows–which I wished she hadn’t. Each one of those innocuous little hairs brought tears to my eyes as she began yanking them out.
“Stop being such a girl,” she said.
Despite my pain, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Mum, Jess, Chris and Megan whistled round me like a collective tornado with brushes, powders, liquids, creams and Christ knows what else being applied here, there and everywhere.
Soon we were all finished and ready to trundle back to the main house. I was just about to leave and Megan was getting impatient, but Jess was hanging back. I wondered if this was the time that I found out what was really on her mind.
She spoke briefly to Megan who gave me a kiss on the cheek and meekly disappeared, leaving Jess and I alone.
“This is where you start the threats I suppose,” I said.
“No,” she replied.
“Then what’s going on, Jess. A leopard doesn’t change her spots you know.”
“It’s just that I’ve been getting really jealous of you.”
“Jealous? Me? Why?” I was gobsmacked.
“Because my friends weren’t happy about the idea of you being here and now they talk to you more than they do to me.”
I could see that being a bone of contention. “You want me to push them away?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Of course not. It’s just that when I looked at what you were doing, I realised how brave you were being. Mum seems to have taken this very seriously and I thought that any moment you were going to back out.”
The thought had crossed my mind on several occasions.
“But you didn’t. Here you are looking every inch a girl and you’re not are you?”
I didn’t answer, not that I had to. It was a rhetorical question apparently.
“You could have caused heaps of trouble and yet you’ve kept going no matter what’s been thrown at you and I have to admit, I really like Jamie. I can see what the others see in you and I know why they like you.”
I was starting to get a lump in my throat.
“The truth is I wish you really were my sister, not my brother. I think he has issues and even though you must have so many more than him right now, you’re still really jolly.”
The tears were brimming.
“Some of the things I’ve said and done make me feel a complete bitch. I mean, I’ve had fourteen years to get used to being me and in the same length of time, I think you’re only just getting used to it and that’s only because of this. God knows what Mum’s doing, but I don’t think it’s wrong. If you do go back to being James, don’t think I won’t still feel like this either. I’ve seen a side of you I think more should see.”
She paused and the lump in my throat was about fit to burst.
“Jamie, I love you and I’m really sorry for everything that I’ve done. Can you forgive me?”
I just broke at that point. In fourteen years, Jess has never once apologised to me like that. In fact, I’d be hard-pressed to think of a time that she’s said sorry and meant it. Right there in that room in the caravan, the tears flowed and all I wanted to do was hug my little sister and cry on her shoulder.
“Yes. Yes of course I can.”
In the next chapter: Dinner: Dad gets to see me for the first time and let’s just say it’s not quite as smooth sailing as we would have liked.
Dad gets to see me for the first time and let’s just say it’s not quite as smooth sailing as we would have liked.
“Oh God, look at the state of you,” Jess said as she dabbed the tears away from my face. “It’s no good. We’re going to have to do something about that or Mum’ll go bonkers.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her, sniffing back the tears.
“What are you apologising to me for?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’ve just got so wrapped up in all this, I don’t know which way’s up.”
“I can understand that. It must be heaps to take in.”
“You can say that again.”
Jess deftly removed the smears and smudges of makeup crying had created and while I sat still, she zipped across each of my eyelids with the liner pencil and redid other bits that had been mutilated during my blub session.
“Thanks Jess,” I said when she’d finished. “You might want to touch up your own makeup too before we go back. I think you’ve been doing a little crying of your own.”
She smiled a bit ruefully. “Can you blame me? It’s not easy suddenly finding out that your brother is really your sister in disguise, is it?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” I replied, shocked that Jess should suddenly get it into her head that I was going to be Jamie permanently. I didn’t want to burst her bubble, but I knew I wasn’t going to stay like this.
“Oh come on. How would you put it then? Seems to me you’ve slipped into this ’Jamie’ personality a little too easily to just drop it and go back to being James. Let’s face it, you’re happier than I’ve ever seen you despite–or perhaps because of the fact that you’re in a dress and strappy sandals; your hair’s definitely not a boy’s cut and I’ll bet you’re going back to have Simon colour it too. What’s more, your legs are shaved, your finger and toenails match your dress and your face is covered in makeup. Hellloooo?”
I couldn’t argue with that. I wanted to, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to challenge her point of view.
Despite the fact that I had been dressing in girl’s clothes and assuming the persona of ’Jamie’ for no more than a few days, I did feel comfortable that way. Possibly more disturbing was the fact that I was becoming more comfortable with it with each passing moment.
Oh dear.
I sat down heavily, my head in my hands.
“You alright, sis?”
Sis? It seemed as far as Jess was concerned, this was a done deal.
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“This is all so quick. A couple of days ago, I was James; pain in the arse brother that you avoided at all costs and now look at me.”
“I know. You’re quite the Cinderella, aren’t you?”
“That’s not what I mean. At first I only agreed to keep this up because no-one knew any different and here we are just days later and not only am I more girl now than I am boy, but it seems like everyone is expecting me to stay like this.”
“You mean you don’t want to?”
“No!” I replied, emphatically, standing back up very quickly and nearly toppling over.
“Oh.”
There was no denying there was disappointment on Jess’s face.
“Of course I don’t. You don’t think I’m stupid enough to think that everything’s going to stay like this do you? I mean, this is one thing, but once the holiday’s over, what d’you thinks’ going to happen?”
“I’m sorry, I just thought…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, turning to the mirror just to check myself over one last time before going back to the Annexe.
Looking in the reflective glass at the image staring back, I saw nothing strange. I thought I’d have felt alien, wrong or something; certainly not as accepting of the new image as I did. It seemed to verify and further substantiate what Jess had said and I wondered whether I would see James returning after the holiday.
The fact was, I really liked the new image; the haircut that Simon had given me was superb and once the colour was in too…
Then there was the makeup–the smoky eyes, soft pink lips and the slight trace of blush on the cheeks, all capped by the blue nail varnish, which seemed to tie everything together. It really did make me wonder whether I should have been female all along, and that nature had played a cruel joke on me.
As Jess appeared beside me in the mirror, I noticed the resemblance–and it was much more than just a family likeness. Our faces were the same shape, the shape of our eyebrows–now that Mum had plucked mine–and the colour of our eyes. Despite being made up differently, there was no denying we were twins.
“It’s a bit scary isn’t it?” Jess observed. “Apart from the boobs, that is.”
I nodded.
“Go on,” she whispered. “Go and let me finish up here. I’ll see you back with the others.”
I gave Jess a quick hug. “Thanks, sis,” I said and as I pulled away, I couldn’t help noticing that her eyes were tearing up again.
I covered the short distance between the caravan and the house, resisting the urge to pluck the thin gusset of my thong out from between the cheeks of my bum.
“I will get used to these,” I muttered.
I couldn’t help feeling confused. Part of me felt like I ought to have been upset by the fact we looked so much alike, and if not that then definitely by Jess referring to me as her sister disguised as her brother.
However, as odd as it may seem, I wasn’t upset by either. I couldn’t actually find it within me to get upset about it, though I don’t know why. I suppose should have, shouldn’t I?
Having seen the two of us side-by-side in the mirror, I could see why the kids at school treated me the way they did. We were like two peas in a pod, which was exactly what Chris or Megan had said–something that actually upset Jess and at the time, me too.
Yet this startling revelation succeeded not in causing anguish, but quite the reverse; it gave me a sense of pride–can you believe that? Add to that the fact that Jess had apologised–even more of an eye-opener, I can tell you–and it was with a profound feeling of confusion that I stepped into the annexe.
“Where’s Jess?” Mum asked, looking me over. “And why have you been messing with your makeup?”
She was taking another mouthful of coffee when I answered.
“Jess apologised to me for being a bitch and both of us got a bit tearful. Afterwards, our faces were a mess, so she redid mine then sent me back here while she redid hers.”
Mum spluttered, sending the majority of her coffee over the table. “Shit! She did what?!” She stood up too quickly, trying to avoid the drips and upset the remainder of her coffee in the process.
“Redid my makeup.”
“Before that?”
“She apologised.”
Mum sat down heavily on the chair, her coffee heading swiftly towards the edge of the table and her.
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “I leave you alone for five minutes and look what happens.”
This was beginning to feel a little more familiar. Something happens, I’m close by, so it’s my fault. Oh well.
“Um, your coffee?”
“Bugger!” she exclaimed and jumped up, grabbing a cloth from the draining board and mopping furiously at the spillage.
“I thought you’d be pleased,” I said, disappointed that Jess and I finally getting along wasn’t met with the enthusiasm I thought it ought to have.
“So where is she now?” she asked, rinsing and wringing the cloth out before returning to the table to mop up the last remnants.
“Finishing her makeup. She’ll be over in a minute. Where’s Dad?”
“He’s taking a shower and will be out shortly,” she replied, still mopping up the sticky coffee. “Please don’t do that again.”
“Sorry,” I said, beating a hasty retreat, shaking my head and wondering what I had to do not to be blamed for every little thing.
I wandered into their lounge where Chris and Megan were waiting.
“Where’s Jess,” Chris asked.
“Fixing her makeup,” I replied, flopping on the chair.
“You alright?” asked Megan.
“Not really. I’m a little confused, but I’m sure it’ll pass.”
Dad sauntered down from the bathroom upstairs in his usual fashion, doing up his shirt and humming tunelessly as he did so. “Evening girls,” he said in a sing-song voice.
“Evening Mr. Powers,” Megan and Chris intoned, almost in unison.
“Hi Dad,” I said.
The footsteps stopped about half way down the hall between the lounge and kitchen and then began coming back towards us. His head appeared, peering round the doorway, scanning the room before resting on me.
“Jamie? Is that really you?” he asked, his eyes going wide.
“In the flesh,” I answered with a slight smile, unable to read his expression.
“Holy shit!!!” he gasped, immediately covering his mouth with his hand after realising what he’d said.
Was that a good, ’holy shit’, or bad one? It didn’t sound particularly good to me. Was he just shocked at seeing me that way or was it worse? Was it disgust perhaps? I couldn’t tell.
What I did know was that he was the one who wasn’t into this ’cross-dressed’ thing at all. In fact, if his facial expressions and body language were anything to go by, it was entirely likely that he was disgusted or even repulsed seeing me in my outfit.
His lips tightened and thinned noticeably in a form of grimace before he shook his head solemnly, leaving us to head back to the kitchen without saying another word.
We all looked at one another, afraid to speak, but just from their expressions I could tell that Chris and Megan were of the same opinion as I: Dad didn’t appear to be happy with what he saw.
I moved towards the kitchen, hearing his and Mum’s voices as I neared.
“What the hell have you done to Jamie?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” Mum replied.
“Nothing? Nothing?,” he demanded, his voice getting louder. “You call that nothing?”
I stayed in the hall slightly back from the doorway and out of their line of sight, but not out of earshot. It’s a bad habit I know, but at the end of the day, they were talking about me and I needed to hear it–well, that’s my excuse anyway.
“Shh!” Mum admonished. “The girls can hear you; maybe even Frank and Deirdre.”
“Sod them!” he replied angrily. “I’m more concerned about what you’ve done to Jamie.”
“I thought we went through all this last night,” she replied pleasantly. “Jamie is staying ’en-femme’ to avoid any unpleasant questions.”
“On what?” he asked. “And what sort of questions?” He sounded incredulous.
“It’s ’en-femme’, not ’on’ and it means as a woman.”
Her reasonable tone sounded dangerous to me, but then it got more business-like.
“You didn’t hear a single word I said last night, did you?” she stated.
I was disappointed that I couldn’t see Dad’s face to see whether he recognised that tone of voice as I did. It meant danger with a capital ‘D’. I know I would have been off down the hall pretty damn quick if that tone had been levelled at me.
There was a slight pause before Dad made any kind of answer. Perhaps he did spot the danger signals.
“I did hear what you said, but I never agreed to any of it. I’ve had a chance to think about it now and I don’t like it.”
“What you mean is that you didn’t listen. You may have heard, but none of it sank in, did it? Now you’ve seen Jamie and suddenly you remember what I was talking about. Well, it’s a bit bloody late now, don’t you think? You should have told me before all the clothes and the hair-do. You didn’t even say anything when I phoned you from the hairdressers, did you?”
“I did say something and you told me you weren’t going to do him up like a dog’s dinner, which is exactly what you did.” he stated, accusingly. “Now look at him. He looks so… so… effeminate.”
“Firstly, I did not ‘do her up like a dog’s dinner’. I have merely allowed her to dress in a style similar to the way the rest of the girls are dressed, nothing more,” she stated primly. “And what’s more, the word is not ‘effeminate’, but ’feminine’ and extremely pretty.”
“Whatever,” Dad spat, obviously not keen on being corrected. “He doesn’t even look like our son anymore. He looks like a girl. It’s not right and it’s stopping; right now!”
“Firstly, of course she looks like a girl. She’s supposed to look like a girl and secondly…”
They didn’t stop there.
Mum argued for and Dad definitely supplied an impassioned argument against.
I think from what I was hearing that Mum was right. Dad rarely listens to any of us. The number of times he’s said “yes dear” to something Mum’s told him and then sworn blind later that she didn’t tell him, is beyond counting.
It appeared as if what she’d said to him about me was no different.
Of course, had he listened to her and not just heard the ‘blah… blah… blah…’, it might have made a difference and this situation may not have gone as far as it did.
Right then though, my focus on Mum and Dad’s argument waned as I started to feel woozy. My head was spinning and their voices sounded as though they were coming from the other end of a long tunnel. Waves of nausea swept over me and I had to lean against the hall wall in order to stay upright.
I don’t know whether it was panic, or whether I was actually ill, but I considered what was going to happen if Dad got his way: Suddenly Jamie would disappear and a rather effeminate-looking boy would take her place. I was sure to be asked questions and the whole sorry episode would come out into the open; out where everyone could see and that would have been news.
I could see it in my mind’s eye; newspaper headlines pointing vitriolic fingers:
“… Parents blamed for young boy’s feminisation…”
My heart sank and with the churning in my stomach, I felt as though I was just about to hit the deck. I just couldn’t seem to do anything. Another wave of nausea swept through me, making me feel as if I was being tossed around indiscriminately on stormy seas, rising and falling, pitching and yawing and stopping me from being able to either think straight or stand straight, with the added delight of impending vomit.
I didn’t feel well at all.
“…this is not up for debate, Gail,” I heard Dad say. “You seem to be taking a great deal of pleasure in feminising our son and I’m buggered if I’m going to let you carry on with it…”
Their voices rose, louder and louder; their shouts more frequent, but at the same time, they sounded to me like they were down that deep, dark tunnel as I became more abstracted, finding my focus slipping as the hallway began spinning, or at least to oscillate; hurtling part way round in one direction then rocking before hurtling back the other.
Meanwhile, the argument continued until I could take no more.
I stumbled into the kitchen. “Stop it, both of you. Just stop, please!” I shouted.
Mum and Dad stopped dead in their tracks and slowly turned to face me.
“If I want to be a girl, I will be a girl and there is nothing either of you can do about it. Right now, I want to stay this way because admitting to Frank, Deirdre and everyone else that I’m not what they think I am is too embarrassing.”
“You’re a boy,” Dad argued, his eyes wide; probably with the shock of me actually standing up for myself, or perhaps simply because I wanted to stay the way I was. “You shouldn’t have been dressed like that in the first place.”
“Maybe, but that’s not what happened, is it? The opposite is actually what happened. Everyone thinks I’m a girl and that’s how I need to stay–at least for the time being.”
“No,” Dad said frowning. “I won’t have my son parading round like a little tart.”
“Derek!” Mum exploded, shocked by Dad’s tone and choice of adjective.
I didn’t have the energy to react to being called a tart or the suggestion that I was ’parading’, although I really wanted to. All I could do was stand my ground; make sure Dad understood that changing back was–to my mind–the wrong thing to do.
“You don’t have to like it, Dad. This is my decision to make, not yours. I think if we change things now, it’ll only make matters worse.”
“Listen James. I’m your father and you are a fourteen year-old boy. Decisions about how you appear in public are mine to make, whether you like it or not.”
“Then why did you wait until now to make this one?” I asked. “You don’t seem to have paid any attention up until now.”
“How dare you,” he growled, raising his hand.
“Derek! Don’t you dare either.” Mum’s face hardened noticeably. “You might want to remember that we make the decisions around here not just you.” She sat back down at the table, picked up the empty coffee cup and groaned, plonking it back on the table and looking up at Dad.
“Don’t you think Jamie has a point? If we make her change back, don’t you think that will attract attention?”
“So?”
“Well what will people think?”
“It’s got bugger-all to do with them. James is our son, not our daughter and that’s all there is to it.”
“Right; so the newspapers, television and radio stations that have all met Jamie won’t be in the least bit surprised. They’re not going to start asking questions, pointing fingers and producing articles about what we did with our son are they?”
Dad just stood there, his mouth agape.
“This isn’t one of those things where you can just change your mind as and when you please, you know. This is the situation and as much as neither of us like what’s happening, we can’t change that. It’s not just the effect it’s having on Jamie, it’s the effect it would have on all of us, Frank and Deirdre included.”
“But––”
“–But nothing, Derek. How many times have you come home complaining that the powers that be don’t know what they’re talking about? How many times have you been disgusted with their lack of understanding of the ’domino principle’ I think you called it. You said you can’t just do this or do that without affecting other things that are already there?
“Now here you are, doing exactly the same thing. You think it would be better for Jamie to disappear and for James to return and everything go back to normal. In an ideal world, that would be the way to go. I and I’m sure James would be right behind you, but this isn’t an ideal world is it?
“This situation’s a real mess. Everything’s tightly intertwined with everything else; knotted together and even if we did unpick this bit, the rest will still be there. It’s not just Jamie or what we think about what he’s doing, but everyone else that have become involved too, like the press or Frank and Deirdre for instance.
“They don’t know James, they only know Jamie–as does everyone else outside our family circle. Frank and Deirdre would probably understand what happened, but the press won’t and who d’you think they’re going to blame?”
Dad muttered something and stormed off, not looking very happy–at all.
Mum let out an explosive breath. “Fuck me that was tiring!” she exclaimed, her head falling forwards into her hands.
“Thanks, Mum,” I said, going round behind her and putting my hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, well don’t get too comfortable,” she said curtly, shrugging away from my touch.
I yanked my hand back like it had just been burnt and tears started to form. She wasn’t being the nice Mum that spoke to me in the paddock, but it almost felt like she was going to accompany that last sentence with “now get out of my sight”.
I made a bee-line for the door, leaving Mum at the table.
“Jamie?”
I didn’t stop to find out what she was going to say, but just pelted down the hallway and into the lounge.
“Hey, there you are,” said Megan, jumping up and running over to me.
I shrugged her off and dropped on chair, pulling my knees up and pushing my face into them, while the others sat or stood, looking wide-eyed at me.
“What’s the matter?” Jess asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, the tears beginning to run down my cheeks. “Mum and Dad just had a ginormous argument and it’s all my fault.”
That was it; the tears ran like rivers, taking my makeup with them–again.
I looked up to see Mum standing at the door. She looked at the three girls and with a simple motion of her head, sent them out and just continued to stand there and look at me.
For some reason, I felt angry. “What?!” I demanded. “Haven’t you ever seen a girl cry before?”
That was Mum’s turn to go wide-eyed and she came to the chair and knelt down in front of it.
“Girl?”
I felt a little silly–well, more than a little actually. Was that a Freudian slip? Was I admitting something; something that Jess and the others had seen all along?
“Oops.”
“No, it’s alright. I’m sorry about back there. I was angry with your father and, to a certain extent, you too. Mind you, I can see what you mean. I’m just a little surprised it’s happened so quickly. I mean it has only been a couple of days, hasn’t it?”
“God, Mum. What’s happening to me?”
Mum looked at me a little strangely and then gave me a cuddle, talking to me as she held me tight.
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think this is something we should rush into,” she said quietly.
“Rush into? Rush into what?”
“Jamie staying around.”
“I don’t want that. I told you. I was talking about all the bloody crying. I can’t seem to stop.”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just say I’ll keep Dad off his high horse for the time being. We’ll have to look at what happens after the holiday, after the holiday. Deal?”
I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I figured that anything that prevented arguments and feuds like we’d just been through couldn’t be a bad thing. “Deal.”
She lifted my chin with a curled finger. “What are we going to do with you?” she asked and drew me to her, wrapping her arms around me and making “there, there,” noises as I cried–again.
I’ll tell you what; this bloody emotional stuff doesn’t half take it out of you. By the time I’d finished blubbing, I was knackered.
“Right now, you look a complete state and it looks as though we’re going to be late. Trust your father to start an argument right at the wrong time.”
I stood up and we hugged again.
“It’ll be alright,” she said and with that, went to leave the room.
“Er, exactly where are we going?” I asked, as she was half way through the door.
“It’s a surprise,” Mum replied quickly. “So, just be patient. I have to go get ready.”
Her exit was almost immediately followed by Chris, Megan and Jess filing in.
“What the hell’s going on?” Jess demanded.
“Oh nothing.”
“Don’t ’oh nothing’ me, sis; spill.”
“Dad wanted me to go back to being James and I didn’t want to.”
“Wow,” said Chris. “Does that mean you’re staying as Jamie–like forever?”
“What?! No. No, er, definitely not. It’s just for the holiday. There are too many people involved to stop just like that.”
I was pushed on a chair as Jess got started on fixing my face. “So what about the bit with Mum?” she asked.
“Oh, that,” I said, trying to be evasive. The bit about being Jamie after the holiday was over was a bit of a shock. Mum could see something either I didn’t want to admit or didn’t see. Whatever it was, she didn’t seem particularly shocked by it. “She was just telling me it was just like Dad to start an argument at precisely the wrong time. I’m fine now. I was a little scared for you lot to come back in here and see me though.”
“Scared?” asked Chris. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I thought you’d laugh at me for being such a mess.”
“Are you kidding? You mustn’t be scared of us. We’re your friends.”
“Too right,” added Jess. “You’re one of us now.”
With that, all three of them wrapped their arms round me and I was enveloped in a wave of love. I know it sounds all ’warm and fuzzy’ or better still, ’sweet and sickly’, which even I found made me feel nauseous again it was so damned sweet, but right then and there, it was exactly what I needed.
“Come on then, Sis. Time for your makeover.”
Jess set to work and between the three girls my makeup was reapplied amidst some good-natured ribbing and a lot of ego-massaging. Ten minutes later, I was ready to present to Mum and Dad.
“Your Mum- and Dad-ships. May I present…” Jess said grandiosely and held her hand out and just as I walked in through the door, she announced, “Jamie.” She came and stood next to me, one arm draped about my shoulders.
Mum shook her head with a wry smile, while Dad just gawped at me.
“Come on, Derek,” said Mum.
“But… but… but…” he mumbled, doing a very good impersonation of a motorboat.
“Yes, dear; I know. They could easily be sisters.”
Dad’s face was a picture. We all laughed and he looked suitably sheepish.
I understood why he fought so hard for me to be me and not a strange facsimile of a girl but, bless him, as Mum often said, ‘he’s a brilliant engineer, but not much cop on the people front.’
“Er, before we go,” he said. “I have some bad news.”
You could have heard a pin drop as all five of us turned to face him.
“While I was upstairs, I got a phone call,” he said, his face serious.
“What is it?” asked Mum. “What’s happened?”
“You’re not going to like this, Gail,” he replied, looking at her. “I have to go back to work.”
“No!” Mum exclaimed.
“I’m afraid so. There’s nothing I can do about it. I had a right old go at Jeff, the boss, I can tell you, but the upshot is, I either go back in tomorrow or I lose my job.”
“They can’t do that,” Jess almost shrieked. “Can they?”
“Not really, but there are ways around the law,” Dad said.
Mum’s face had gone from being one of eager anticipation–well she knew where we were going, unlike the rest of us girls–to a bleak and stony expression.
“Derek, this has got to stop. This is the first holiday we’ve had together since you joined that bloody company. Every time you even make a noise about a holiday, something happens and we either have to cancel or the kids and I wind up at Nan’s–without you. This is just absolutely appalling.
“I know, I know,” he said softly. “I’m no happier about it than you are.” He turned to me. “Jamie, I’m sorry. I’ve been insensitive and I wish I’d have installed that filter between brain and mouth. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m proud of you; more than you can possibly know.”
“Please, Dad,” I said embarrassed. “You’ll make my makeup run–again.”
“Yeah, Dad,” said Jess. “I’ve already had to fix it twice.”
“And I did it the first time,” Mum said.
He laughed and then we all did.
“Look, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to go back to work and try and sort out this problem. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to come back.”
“But you don’t think you will, do you?”
He didn’t say anything, but reading between the lines, I’m sure Mum knew what he was thinking.
Silence descended and no-one knew quite where to look or what to say. Finally Dad was the one to break it.
“Hey, come on. We’ve still got tonight. Something tells me this is going to be a bit special, so come on; ten-to-two faces and let’s go have ourselves a really good time, shall we?”
We gathered at Deirdre and Frank’s front door and when they came out, it was with very relieved looks.
“We thought you weren’t coming.”
“We nearly didn’t. Our ’heroine’ has just proved she’s human and not a superhero,” said Mum, giving me a sly wink.
“Oh?” Deirdre queried. “She’s alright now, I hope.”
“Oh yes. Perfectly.”
“That’s okay then.”
We walked towards our respective cars without even thinking, but thankfully, Mum’s head was switched on. I think the rest of us were still reeling after Dad’s announcement.
“Someone’s going to have to go with Frank and Deirdre,” she said, turning to face our hosts. “That’s if you wouldn’t mind. The Corsa’s too small for all of us.”
“Of course not, there’s plenty of room in our old jalopy.”
I elected to be the one who travelled with Frank and Deirdre, rather than have the embarrassment of having to have Mum or Dad ’volunteer’ one of us.
“I’m going with Jamie,” said Megan.
“Well, you’re not leaving us behind,” said Jess, grabbing Chris and almost hauling her towards Frank’s Mitsubishi Shogun.
“What’s going on?” asked Dad. Where are they all going?”
“They’ve elected to go with Jamie,” Mum informed him.
“They’ve what? What even Jess?”
“Even Jess. Never mind. I’ll explain it on the way.”
We left Mum and Dad bickering about his work, the weather and just about everything else as we climbed into the Shogun.
“So where are we going?” Jess asked.
“You’ll see,” Deirdre replied as Frank started to pull out of the drive.
The fact that we were all dolled up and didn’t know where we were going just added to the excitement and I for one was pretty tense with wondering what the adults had in store for us.
“So are you all ready for some work tomorrow?” asked Deirdre.
“Don’t know; what you got planned?” I asked.
“Well, the horses need grooming and the stables cleaning. Are you up for it?”
“Definitely,” we said in unison.
I was even more excited by that than the up-coming event. The thought of seeing Valentina was too much of a pull.
“Good,” Deirdre said. “If you’re lucky, we might even get to go for a ride in the afternoon.”
“Oh wow!”
“If you finish in time, that is.”
“We will,” we assured in unison.
Shortly afterwards, we pulled into a car park and got out into the balmy evening air and waited for Mum and Dad to finish parking the Corsa.
“It’s this way,” Frank said, leading off as Deirdre linked her arm through his.
We followed to a large building and were greeted at the door by a man with a clipboard and one of those headphone/microphone things on his head.
“We’ve been expecting you,” he said. “Right this way please. You’re only just in time.”
Then without even looking away from us he added, “They’re just on their way.”
All of us looked at one another as we were led down a long corridor, as the clipboard wielding man kept talking and we never knew whether he was talking to us or to someone in the ether. However, it wasn’t long before we arrived at a couple of rooms, where us girls were whisked into protective gowns and accosted with little brushes. We presumed that Mum, Dad, Frank and Deirdre were getting similar treatment in the next room.
“Just a teeny weeny bit of makeup,” said a very effeminate man, whose name was Noá«l. Although he had us all giggling, he flatly refused tell us what this was all in aid of. Moments later, when our makeup had been applied, we were whisked back out and down another corridor where we rejoined Mum, Dad, Deirdre and Frank in an area where there was a large round, smoke-glass table surrounded by comfortable chairs and sofas.
We were asked to wait. “I won’t be a mo’,” the man with the clip-board said before hurrying off.
Frank didn’t look too pleased having had the makeup treatment. He kept muttering things like, “I’m not a bloody poof,” and the like, while Deirdre kept nudging him in the ribs and telling him to “shush”.
“Everyone has to have it to stop shiny bits affecting the cameras,” she told him.
He didn’t think it was particularly appropriate, huffing, folding his arms and continuing to mutter.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “What is this?”
“It’ll all be explained shortly, I expect,” Mum replied. “Just be patient.”
That was the second time she’d said that. There was something afoot and I was sure I wasn’t going to like it.
Mum and Dad whispered to Deirdre and Frank and the rest of us mostly just looked at the floor as there seemed to be a hush over the place that none of the adults with us wanted to break. All in all, although it was only what turned out to be a few minutes, it was a pretty scary few minutes.
“Would you like to come this way, please,” said the clip-board man, leading us towards a large pair of doors, where a group of people clipped little mics to our clothes, tucking the radio boxes into some rather embarrassing places I can tell you. Once that was done, clipboard man held the door for us and ushered us in.
If I thought the hall was scary, this part was worse. There was a woman talking from behind some screens and she seemed to be addressing a number of people. It sounded a lot like someone taking assembly at school.
’Oh my God,’ I thought, feeling the colour drain from my face. The others looked around equally apprehensive.
“Finally, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce four girls who have gone above and beyond, risking their very lives to save people from that freak mudslide. So without further ado…” said the woman on the stage.
I looked at Jess and the others and all of them had that ’oh, no…’ look on their faces. I knew I was no different and before any of us had the chance to run, the clip-board man was there, practically shoving us towards a stage, where several men with headphones were manoeuvring large studio cameras around, one of which swung round and pointed at us, following us across what appeared to be an acre of space between where we were and a woman, who smiled and clapped as we approached.
Looking to my left, there was what appeared to be terrace after terrace of seats, all of which were filled with people, who appeared to be applauding us with some enthusiasm.
I recognised the woman as Sheila Bright, a well-known talk-show host, but the simple act of walking across that stage, made my knees turn to jelly.
“Firstly, welcome to the show,” she said amiably. “I understand this was a bit of a surprise for some of you.”
“Huh! You can say that again,” Dad muttered, which actually lightened the load on me. I know I shouldn’t take comfort in the discomfort of others, but just knowing that I was as surprised as Dad–even though it was for a different reason–made me feel a lot better.
The rest of the interview was pretty good. After a while, I didn’t even notice the audience. The lights on the stage and the subdued lighting over the audience, made it feel a lot more convivial and most of the time, I didn’t even notice they were there.
“So I understand from the reports that it was you, Jess that got Joe and Martha to safety,” Sheila probed.
“Well, yes,” Jess replied. “But only because Jamie told us what to do. I think we’d have been trapped in our cabin if it hadn’t been for her.”
“So what was Jamie doing while you were getting Martha and Joe back to the house?”
“Getting the cat,” said Megan.
The audience chuckled at that.
“A cat?”
“Well, yes,” I replied. “Martha wouldn’t go unless she had the cat.”
Sheila obviously saw my discomfort at the mention of the cat. “That’s not all is it?”
I looked a little sheepish. “No. Joe warned me about Joey–the cat, calling him a ’flea-bitten rat-bag’.”
More laughs.
“Well, he didn’t seem to appreciate being rescued and sank his claws and teeth into me quite a few times before I got back to the house.”
Again, the audience laughed.
“But I assume you got him to a very grateful Martha?”
“Yes.”
Sheila wrapped things up with a few words to Frank, Deirdre, Mum and Dad, who all expressed how proud they were of us and the audience gave us a hearty round of applause.
At the end of it all, I felt about a hundred feet tall. Jess and the girls made me feel every inch one of their best friends and as for Frank and Deirdre, they made me–well, all of us really–feel like we were family. I didn’t think I was ever going to come down from the cloud I was busy floating on.
Dinner was just as good as the television studios. It was a real restaurant, not some burger or pizza joint, but a real, sit-down-and-be-waited-on job. It was also the first time we had ever been in one quite like that–as a family anyway.
The buzz I think all of us experienced being on a show like that, seemed to spill over to the meal and quite honestly, it was the best thing I had ever eaten and must have cost a fortune.
Frank looked a lot more comfortable since they’d removed the ’silly bloody makeup’ as he put it and kept looking as us girls strangely. It was as if we’d saved his life or something.
“Cliffside’s more than just a holiday park,” he said. “It’s been our home and represents everything we have. We’ve put all our savings and then some into it and had it not been for you people, we would not only have lost the cabins, but Dee’s mum and dad too.
“On top of that, you’ve provided us with much-needed exposure that has put us well and truly on the map. We’ve had more phone calls over the last two days from people wanting to stay with us–thanks to the Cliffside Heroine–than we’ve ever had before. Now if we can just put into operation the ideas that Derek and I have had, I think we can not only recoup our losses, but set ourselves up for the future too.”
He stood up.
“I’d like to propose a toast in thanks to you all,” he said, picking up and raising his glass. “To new beginnings,” he added and we all stood up, raised our glasses and intoned, “New beginnings.”
We sat back down again, well, all except Frank.
Seeing him just standing there, his glass in his hand was something that confused us all as the burble of excited chatter died away and all eyes rested upon the white-haired man stood before us.
“Go on,” said Deirdre, nudging him with her elbow.
“Alright,” he said, looking down at his wife. He cleared his throat.
“Derek,” he said, clearing his throat again, more to cover the fact that he was feeling uncomfortable than because it actually needed clearing. “We heard about work and we also know that you’re not happy about it. I’d just like to express that without you and your skills, I don’t think we’d have managed to get as far as we have. With any luck, we should be up and running again before the end of the season.” He stared at his napkin on the table for a few moments. “Well, what I’m trying to say is, if you want a job, we’d be happy to have you here. It’s not a big place, but it’s big enough for all of us and I know how your girls love the horses and–” His words just seemed to taper off into oblivion as he stood looking expectantly at Dad.
“I don’t know what to say,” Dad replied–a bit misty-eyed too if I wasn’t much mistaken.
I could see Mum’s face too and knew what she was going to suggest he did, but she was sensible enough to let him make up his own mind.
“I’d like nothing more than to just drop everything, but I know, as I’m sure you do, it’s not that simple. Funnily enough, my family gave me a big object lesson earlier about how simple things aren’t. This may seem like I’m trying to avoid an answer, but can I think about it? I don’t want to jump into anything just yet.”
“Of course,” Frank beamed, sitting down, raising his glass and saying, “Cheers!”
We all raised our glasses, smiling and chorusing with our own response of cheers.
The rest of the dinner was just a complete buzz of excited chatter and expectation, but there in the midst of it was sadness too.
“That means that if your Dad says yes to Frank, that’ll mean we won’t ever see either of you again,” said Chris.
“Don’t be silly. You’d be welcome anytime, I’m sure. Isn’t that right Jamie?”
“Oh yes–both of you.”
It seemed to allay their fears, but I knew we’d have to wait and see about that.
I couldn’t help thinking how appropriate it all was.
Whether I stayed as Jamie or not, I hoped that this was going to be the beginning of something good.
If Dad accepted Frank’s offer, that would mean I’d never have to miss Valentina or anything else about this place. Dad would never have to worry about holidays and his work calling him back half way through his one and only break in over six years, but more importantly, no longer was I going to be the one that everyone picked on, that everyone blamed. It would be a new beginning and who could have guessed it would take a mudslide to do it?
In the next chapter: Valentina
We were promised a ride on the horses–if we finished in time. This was to provide more excitement than I thought I could handle…
We were promised a ride on the horses–if we finished in time. This was to provide more excitement than I ever thought I could handle…
With heartfelt thanks to Gabi for all the hard work she’s put in editing these chapters–thanks girly.
On the way home from the restaurant, I have to admit to being a little distracted.
Every time I thought about being at Cliffside as Jamie–with all the love and respect I was getting–I could only feel a sense of loathing towards the other me and his life.
I knew it would mean starting afresh, starting a new school, but Jamie could do that. James was much more introverted–in every way much less outgoing and in my opinion, it was doubtful that Jamie would have any trouble whatsoever.
“I said, what d’you reckon?” asked Megan, irritably.
“What?”
“Weren’t you listening to anything I said?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry. I was miles away,” I said, smiling apologetically and whilst it was dark in the back of the Shogun, I was sure I saw a frown on Megan’s face and that wasn’t good. “What was it you said?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re obviously not interested. You’ve obviously got much more interesting things to think about.”
I tried to get her to tell me what was troubling her, but without success. I didn’t get another peep out of her.
When we got out of the cars back at Cliffside, she simply went straight to Mum, Dad, Frank and Deirdre. She said, “Goodnight and thanks for a really nice evening,” stuck her nose in the air and strode past me as if I wasn’t there at all.
Chris, looking more than a little bemused by Megan’s behaviour, bid us a hurried “goodnight” and followed after her, leaving the four adults, Jess and myself, standing outside on the driveway in the twilight.
“We’d best leave you all to it. You will at least consider my offer, won’t you?” Frank asked, before taking Deirdre’s hand to lead her into the house.
“I will, Frank, and thanks for everything.”
With everyone else gone, Mum, Dad, Jess and I, stood in awkward silence for a few moments.
“I’m going to be leaving really early in the morning,” Dad said, breaking the silence. “So I’ll say goodbye now.”
“You’re not taking Frank’s job offer then?” Jess asked.
“I haven’t decided and even if I had, I still have to go to work tomorrow or I might lose more than a few hours pay.”
She threw her arms round him and hugged him. “It would be nice if you did take it. I mean, we’d get to see an awful lot more of you, but whatever you choose,” she told him and let go, standing back.
I stayed where I was for a moment before almost launching myself at him, teary-eyed and hugging him as tight as I could. “I’m sorry for everything, Dad and I hope you can finish in time to come back.”
He didn’t respond for what felt like ages, but then I felt his arms squeeze, tighter and tighter, holding me close and it was one of the nicest feelings I’d felt for a long time.
“So do I, Squirt. So do I.”
The next day things were a tad strained.
For a start I had a dream during the night and whilst most of it is a bit fuzzy, the gist was that I was at school, standing very close to another boy. That was a little disturbing as I wasn’t dressed as Jamie, but as James.
I was trembling and I could feel the tears beginning to trace those irregular patterns down my cheeks as he stood gazing directly at me. He wasn’t going to hit me, he was trying to comfort me and all I wanted to do was to hold him, or rather, for him to hold me.
“Why do you keep on pretending?” he asked. “You’re not a boy are you?”
I didn’t answer, just shrugged and looked up at him.
“So why don’t you just come clean and be what you really are. You know, I knew you weren’t really a boy right from the start. You’re way too pretty.”
With that, he bent to kiss me and as his face got closer my head began spinning like a top.
“I’m not a girl,” I kept telling myself. “I am a boy.”
The thought of Megan came to mind and that first kiss I shared with her; that kiss so chaste and yet at the same time, so powerful. That was what I wanted wasn’t it? Not a kiss with that… that… boy?
Just then, I didn’t know.
I didn’t even know his name, although I knew I knew him and the feeling of the closeness; the anticipation of our lips meeting, soft and gentle…
I wanted to feel him take me in his arms and hold me tight, but most importantly, to kiss me.
I woke up at that point, feeling scared–very scared, my whole body trembling and not in a good way either.
Lying there with the sound of the early morning birdsong for company, I wondered whether that nightmare had been more than a dream; whether it was a portent of what would become of me, but it couldn’t have been.
Awake and rapidly regaining my faculties, the thought of kissing that boy made me feel physically sick to my stomach.
I got up and put on some clothes, trying to shake off the thought of my wanting to kiss another boy, before pulling a clean thong up my legs and tucking what little I had away as best I could.
Was it getting smaller?
I pulled the thong back down again and it did seem smaller.
I thought so anyway.
Was just pretending to be a girl causing me to change sex–?
That couldn’t be the case could it––?
Were it that easy, there would be no reason for transsexuals to have ’the operation’, would there? God, if that’s all there was to it, there would be some pretty freaked-out people about; especially those who weren’t expecting it. I giggled to myself as I thought of a boy having to wear his sister’s pyjamas for some reason and waking up the next morning sans willy.
What I was considering seemed so absurd, but my willy really did seem smaller and I had to have another look.
Pulling it out from between my legs, I peered at it inquisitively. I couldn’t really tell whether it was smaller or not. Probably not actually. I must have just been imagining things.
It couldn’t have got any smaller could it?
I tucked it away again, finished dressing then crept out of the caravan and tip-toed along to the main house, letting myself into the kitchen quietly.
“You’re up early,” Deirdre observed.
I froze, wondering what to say. I couldn’t tell Deirdre about the dream, could I? That would have given the game away. I thought quickly and came up with something I thought would explain my early arrival.
“I know. I was just excited at the prospect of getting to see Valentina again today and, well, you know, hopeful that Dad will take the job.”
I lied–well not entirely. I was excited about getting to see Valentina again and I was excited about the possibility of Dad taking Frank’s offer.
“I shouldn’t get your hopes up too high. He hasn’t agreed yet, has he?” she pointed out as she slapped several rashers of bacon on the grill pan and slid it under the grill.
“I know,” I said resignedly, sitting at the table.
I was well into my breakfast and feeling much better when the girls arrived. The dream I decided, was just that–a dream. There’s never anything to them is there? It was possible that it was simply a result of appearing to everyone as a girl and aren’t girls expected to have boyfriends?
Anyway, it wasn’t real and by the second rasher of bacon, a slice of toast and some of Deirdre’s excellent tea, I’d put it behind me.
“Morning,” I said brightly.
My enthusiasm wasn’t exactly reciprocated; all I got was a couple of yawn-stifled “mornin’” kind of replies from Jess and Chris, but not a peep out of Megan.
“You alright?” I asked her.
“Fine!” she replied, curtly.
I blinked and kept my mouth shut from that point on. I just hoped that some explanation would come out pretty soon as the longer Megan remained silent, the more I wanted to know what it was that was eating her.
“You ready?” Deirdre asked once Jess had finished the last of her mug of tea.
“And waiting,” I responded, eagerly. The others didn’t seem to be as enthusiastic and with another chorus of mutters, muffled by yawns and stretches, we followed Deirdre outside.
Once we got to the stables, I went straight to Valentina–which was no real surprise, only this time, the black looks, cold shoulder treatment and mutters of disapproval came from Megan.
What had I done or said to make her so awful to me?
She made me feel as if I was with a completely different person than the one at the TV studios and restaurant. I couldn’t understand it at all.
I went and picked up some hay to take into the stall and she was there, bashing my shoulder with hers as we passed one another. I know I’m a boy and I’m supposed to shrug that sort of thing off, but I’m not exactly meaty and it actually hurt.
“What’s going on?” I asked, but just at that moment, Deirdre came in and Megan just turned away, bashing me yet again. I took my bundle of hay and did what was necessary, my anger and frustration rising. I mean I wouldn’t have minded had it not been for the fact that a few hours ago, she was practically swearing undying love and now she didn’t appear to be able to stand the sight of me.
“Yes,” said Deirdre, looking concerned. “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” I answered quickly, hoping that a flat denial might head off any further questions that could prevent us from going out on the horses.
“Good,” she responded in a business-like manner. “I wouldn’t like to think I couldn’t trust you to behave yourselves while we’re out.”
“You mean we’re going out?”
She nodded.
“On the horses?” I pressed.
“No,” she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “I’ve got us pogo sticks. Yes of course on the horses.” She looked at each of us, as by then, Chris and Jess had come out of their stables and were standing with Megan and I. “You’re not wearing boots or shoes with heels–which I would recommend, but since we’re not going to be doing anything flamboyant, you should be fine–but remember to be careful.”
“But Jamie’s never been on a horse,” said Megan, who got a sharp dig in the ribs from Chris for her trouble.
“OW!”
“I thought your parents said you all rode horses. Oh well, never mind. We’re just going to take them for a gentle walk–for the most part anyway. I’m sure Valentina will be perfectly alright with Jamie.”
Now many of you may feel that Valentina, being so big, would not have been the wisest choice and believe me, I was scared silly at the thought of getting on her back–it being so far up and all–but as Deirdre said, since she had taken such a shine to me, it was likely she’d be no bother.
Nevertheless, the others weren’t so pleased at the prospect of a pedestrian pace and showed their displeasure, scowling at me as Deirdre helped me up into the saddle, grabbing my ankle as I slipped and looked as though I was going to go straight over the other side–much to their amusement.
I’ll tell you one thing: once I was on, it looked a hell of a lot further down than it did looking up!
With the others mounted, we headed out of the yard, the sun beating down and the horses’ hooves crunching in the gravel. Just before we got to the road, Deirdre made a sharp right into the trees along a narrow path. She moved aside and allowed the girls and I to pass and Valentina immediately took point, with Deirdre bringing up the rear.
We rode the horses at a walk through what looked like something out of Robin Hood or something, heading away from Cliffside in glorious dappled shade that after a few hundred yards began sloping downwards. I have to say though; my image of the woods was slightly marred by the almost constant giggling coming from behind me.
“Don’t stick your elbows out, just relax,” Deirdre said from the back of the line. “Remember, heels down and grip with your knees.”
This brought forth peals of laughter and calls of, “Oh why did you tell her,” and “It was better when she looked like a spastic,” from the girls.
I had no idea what I looked like until then and once I did, I understood why Jess and the others had been laughing so much.
“Stop that!!” I yelled, turning and giving them my best Paddington hard stare, which just made them laugh harder. Even Deirdre was trying to stifle a laugh.
For what seemed like ages, we plodded through the trees, winding this way and that, the ground getting steeper as we went until the trees parted and we sat upon our mounts, overlooking a huge expanse of grass that just seemed to roll on for ever.
“The beach is just down at the bottom there,” Deirdre said, pointing her finger at a speck in the distance. It’s pretty safe round here, so if you want to give your horses a run, feel free, but please be careful. ”
I’d been happy enough plodding, but as soon as Jess kicked her heels into the flanks of her horse and streaked off down the hill with a delighted squeal, Chris and Megan followed suit, hurtling after her–squealing equally as loud.
Only trouble was, Valentina got the idea what they were doing was fun–all that screaming and laughing and before Deirdre or I could do anything to stop her, she was flying along with me bouncing painfully up and down in the saddle, yelling at her to stop as I pulled on the reins, doing my best to sound authoritative and failing miserably.
The feeling was akin to going really quickly down Bostal hill on my mountain bike. It’s a very rough and very steep path that heads down from Truleigh Hill; a favourite haunt for BMX and mountain bike riders–though unsurprisingly, some don’t make it all the way to the bottom, or if they do, they’re rarely attached to the bike or the right way up when they get there.
However, the moment I started thinking ’mountain bike’ and stood up in the stirrups, things got a lot easier. Her movements were not entirely unlike those of the bike and all I had to do was keep my knees slightly bent and welded to her ribs, keep balanced and hang on.
I got the hang of that bit and thereafter, I was surprised at how easy it was, although much of that was probably down to the fact that Valentina liked me and was making it fairly uncomplicated.
After a little while of hurtling round the huge field, I noticed that Deirdre had not joined us and was sat on her horse, looking out over the sea. I cantered back up the hill to Deirdre.
“You alright?” I asked.
“I’m fine thank you. I usually come here to think and just get away from it all. There’s been a lot happening and I needed to be on my own.”
“But you aren’t on your own. We’re here.”
“Not all the time. Mostly you’ve been horsing around down the bottom of the hill.” She looked at me, her expression probing. “You sure you’ve never ridden before?” she asked.
“First time,” I said, the grin threatening to split my face in half.
She shook her head. “You really are going to tell me how you do that.”
“If I knew, I would,” I told her with a giggle.
“Well don’t go getting overconfident will you?”
“I won’t,” I assured her and kicking Valentina’s flanks with my heels, we headed back down the hill, the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.
I swear I could have stayed on that horse all damned day. It was the most exciting thing I’d ever done. Hurtling across the grass, feeling Valentina bunch and stretch as she covered the ground between us and the girls effortlessly, was so exhilarating that I didn’t even think about the safety aspect, I just wanted to carry on doing what I was doing.
The girls were a long way galloping around, so I decided to try and catch up with them, which appeared to be a simply to let Valentina go for it. Once again, with the wind in my face and the feeling of a live animal under me was just so intoxicating.
I eventually caught them as they pulled up to rest.
“Wow!” I gasped. “I can’t imagine why I haven’t tried this before.”
“You’re doing really well,” said Chris. “Better than expected–much.”
“Yeah,” Jess echoed. “Nice one.”
“Huh!” Megan snorted. “You call that doing well? Elbows sticking out like wings; it’s a wonder he didn’t take off. That’s not doing well.”
“Megan!” said Jess. “That was uncalled for. It’s her first time, give her a break.”
“What? He’s been on a horse for five minutes and already he thinks he’s the Lone Ranger.”
“I never said that,” I replied, noticing that Megan had reverted to calling me a ‘he’. God, she must have been really pissed-off with me.
“That’s what you’re thinking though isn’t it?” she said. “Just like you think you’re all that with your big fake boobs and everyone thinking you’re so goody-goody.”
Jess and Chris gasped, cringing and looking wide-eyed at their companion while I felt that almost ubiquitous lump in my throat; that seemingly ever-present prelude to the tears.
“Look Megan, I don’t know what I’ve done, but I surely didn’t deserve that.”
“That’s right,” said Jess. “What’s got into you?”
“What do you care? He’s your brother and you’re bound to protect him aren’t you? Never mind that he’s just as big a shit as any other boy–regardless of what he looks like.”
With that, she wheeled her horse round and took off, leaving the three of us staring at her; mouths agape, totally dumbfounded.
I couldn’t let this go on any longer. I hadn’t asked for any of this and whilst there were aspects that appealed to me about being Jamie, this wasn’t something of my choosing; not something I was doing for me and she knew that. For her to suddenly do a complete one-eighty and get all bitchy was completely uncalled for.
I took off after her, thumping my heels into Valentina’s flanks and getting a rather startled whinny from her as she reared up and bolted.
I was alright to begin with. To me, it was like riding a bike. Once you got the hang, you didn’t even think about it. Anyway, I’d done fine up till then and the only thing on my mind was trying to talk to Megan and straighten things out, but almost instantly, things began going pear-shaped.
Valentina went off like the clappers and it was all I could do to hang on. Suddenly the exhilaration I felt beforehand was now plain, simple panic, as whatever I took to being a gallop before was nothing compared to what the big grey mare was doing right then. She was going so fast I couldn’t keep my balance and then everything seemed to slow down–at least that’s how it felt.
I could feel myself slipping as I was being thrown around and as much as I tried to remember to grip with my knees, my heels down, the rattling I was getting on Valentina’s back just didn’t lend itself to clarity of thought.
I felt my left foot slip through the stirrup and with nothing to brace myself on that side, I began sliding round. Each time I tried with all my strength to right myself, she bunched and stretched, launching herself forward in pursuit of Megan and I slipped back to where I came from, only further.
I could see Deirdre through the blur, as she started down the slope towards me–at least I think that’s what I saw and I also think I saw Megan looking behind her at the idiot sticking out sideways from Valentina’s flanks.
My hands were sore and beginning to cramp from trying to grip the reins with all my might; my thighs and calf muscles not far behind. I thought by being a keen cyclist, I would have no problem with the ‘heels down, grip with the knees’ thing, but it seems that however much you use your muscles, using them a different way puts strains on you wouldn’t necessarily expect.
I could feel my fingertips becoming numb and could see how white my knuckles were as I hung on for what felt like hours, swinging and constantly bashing against Valentina’s ribs and shoulder. How I had managed to hang on as long as I had was a mystery.
Then it happened.
I felt the leather reins slipping from my grasp and I redoubled my efforts to hang on until Valentina decided it was time to stop, but I couldn’t and let go, seeing the last fraction of an inch, flapping about in mid air–not between my fingers as it should have been.
If I thought the last bit was in slow motion, the next bit felt like ’stop motion’ and from the corner of my eye, I could see the long strands of Valentina’s mane as it rose and fell with her movements, strong enough for me to grip on to and hopefully right myself, but it was just fractionally out of reach.
Wheeling my arms, I tried with one last ditch effort to grab something else, anything to prevent me from falling off and it was at that point that I realised that I hadn’t completely lost contact.
My foot remained through the stirrup and as I fell, I got a severe jerk on my foot as the stirrup strap pulled taught and my entire weight was suddenly hanging from my ankle, jerked with every movement Valentina made. My face contorted with the sudden rush of pain and I felt my body twist. Suddenly, I was looking back at Jess and Chris who were trying to catch up.
I could see the looks of concern and fear that were obvious on their faces as they shouted something, but I couldn’t make out whether it was at each other, Megan, Deirdre or me.
It was a weird sensation–one I wouldn’t recommend–especially since it was accompanied by a blinding flash of light, which occurred about the same time as my head hit the ground.
After that, everything went black.
The first thing I noticed when I came to was there was no pain. There was some discomfort, but it wasn’t pain.
There was no grass either. In fact, there was none of that horse-cum-hay-cum-straw-cum-sea smell I remembered. That had all been replaced by one of antiseptic. I knew that smell after so many bumps and grazes on my knees, but what was it doing here?
I moved my hand, noticing almost immediately the taught skin across its back and something hard underneath.
I opened my eyes to find myself in what appeared to be a hospital room. I raised my hand and saw tubes coming from needles poked in under sticking plaster. In the background, I heard the sound of soft-soled shoes squeak, squeak, squeaking as they passed my door and as I continued to think and to listen, I noticed many more.
The only other place I had known that squeaking sound to happen with such regularity was in a library.
Well, the bed, the tubes, the smell–ah yes, the smell. Libraries didn’t have that smell. They smelt kind of papery, leathery and like furniture polish, not like this and anyway, how many libraries had beds in?
Yep; it certainly looked like a hospital room. At least that explained that bit, however, where was everyone?
I was trying to figure out the passage of the time, but found that although I could remember the accident and everything before it, I had no idea how long ago that had been. To me it seemed like it had just happened and that there had been no break at all between the accident and when I woke up.
I knew there must have been some time since it happened, because of the lack of people around me. Even if they only allowed family in to visit, Jess was missing and I’m sure Mum would have pitched up at some point. With tubes sticking out here and there, she was sure to have been worried and probably would have stayed far longer than the doctors thought she ought.
It kind of pointed to the possibility that I may have been there for some time–some considerable time. I felt very lonely at that moment and pulled the covers up, fighting back sniffles.
If where and how I found myself right then wasn’t bad enough, as I pulled on the sheet, I discovered that my boobs had been removed. I felt a distinct feeling of regret; a profound sense of loss.
I know it sounds ridiculous to hope that trained doctors and nurses wouldn’t have noticed that the two rubber blobs stuck to my chest weren’t real, but that’s what I did, just for a moment anyway, wishing they had left them where they were and that I could have said goodbye to Jamie the way I wanted to, in my own time.
However, gone they were and I was left feeling pretty despondent. I pulled the bed clothes up even further, trying to hide from…whoever–whatever, but trying nonetheless.
I was surprised–no, shocked at how I felt about giving up being Jamie. I imagined that she would just slip away like James did, I mean, she’d only been around for a week, hadn’t she? I imagined too, how all the old James-isms would return and I’d have to say goodbye to the treatment I’d begun getting used to as well.
God that was sooo depressing.
A nurse walked into the room with the almost obligatory squeaky shoes.
I have a theory about them: They are worn for two reasons. The first is plain comfort and the second is so they can’t sneak up on patients unawares. They can be heard coming along an entire corridor, so people get fair warning that they’re on their way.
The thought made me giggle–out loud too.
The nurse gave a bit of a start.
“Oh,” she said, her eyebrows raised and her eyes wide. “I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting… Um, I’d better get the doctor.”
I grinned and she smiled back as she did an about turn and headed out, the tempo of the squeaks doubling.
A thought occurred to me.
I had giggled.
I know; so what?
But it was a giggle, not a laugh.
James laughed–often too hard at things that weren’t that funny and it dawned on me there and then, that giggling was natural for me, laughing like a bloke wasn’t. Oh sure, I laughed, but when things weren’t particularly funny or just something a bit private to chuckle over, I giggled.
A few moments later, the doctor came in.
She was nice and I noticed how when she saw me, she seemed a little surprised.
“How are you?” she asked with a smile.
“A bit confused and upset,” I answered. “Where’s my mum?”
“Ah,” she replied, nodding sagely. “There was always a risk of you coming to before she got back. What say we get some tests and things out of the way first; then I can go give her a ring and we can have a bit of a chat? There’s quite a lot to talk about, you know.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t say–not without your parents here. They made me agree to wait.”
“So you’re not going to tell me?”
“Er,” she said rubbing her chin and looking heavenwards. Then after a pause, she shook her head and said, “No,” quite emphatically.
I giggled again and smiled, feeling a little better as this doctor really had a way of putting me at my ease. Nevertheless, I still had no idea how long I’d been there or what they’d done.
I just had to wait.
After the doctor had gone, my mind went back to the fact I had giggled–twice.
Why?
Because, that was pure Jamie.
James would never have giggled. He was very cautious not to give the other boys–or girls for that matter–any reason to pick on him. James giggling was totally out of the question.
That development was a real revelation. To me, it meant that the reason being Jamie came so easy was because I was Jamie.
James just wasn’t me at all.
James was a pain all the time. I felt that trying to do things the way others expected was difficult and as I’ve said many times, being Jamie was easy on me.
I realised that I hadn’t actually been taking on the affectations of a girl to be Jamie at all, but dropping what I had been doing to be James, which proved to me that it was James who was the imposter; the charade.
I WAS Jamie and I’d never felt better.
The question now was how I went about telling everyone that I wasn’t James, that I was Jamie and wanted to stay that way.
Oh I knew that they’d try and talk me out of it. I knew they’d try and tell me that it had only been a week; too short a time to have made a decision that would affect the rest of my life, yet I knew Jamie was who I was and I couldn’t wait to tell everyone.
The excitement rose, feeling like I was on the back of Valentina again with the wind in my face and the sensation of her bunching and stretching as she flew across the ground. I felt the butterflies fluttering about inside, that feeling like going over a roller-coaster, turning my insides up-side down.
I spent the next forty minutes just staring at the ceiling, but then a familiar voice came at me like a bullet.
“Jamie, Jamie, we thought we’d lost you!” shrieked Jess, landing on the side of the bed and engulfing me in a hug.
“Careful there Jess,” Mum said cautioning Jess not to be quite so exuberant. She came over and gave me a hug too. “How are you?”
“I’m fine–least I think I am. There was some doctor in here a while ago and she seemed to think there was a lot to talk about, but she wouldn’t because you and Dad weren’t here. So now you are; why am I here?”
“That was a nasty accident you had on–or rather off–Valentina. You got kicked pretty badly.”
“Kicked?” I asked. “I thought I just bumped my head.”
“Well, stomped on would be more accurate,” Jess clarified. “At first, yes, it was just a bump.” She looked very serious suddenly. “But when your foot came free of the stirrup, you rolled under her hooves and got stomped.”
“Wow. I never knew.”
“Probably just as well.”
Both Mum and Jess had serious expressions and I figured it was just the pain of reliving that accident with Valentina. I was glad I wasn’t awake when it happened. Getting clonked on the old noodle was bad enough.
“So how long have I been here, because I have no idea whatsoever?”
When I came to think about it, I didn’t know where I was and I sort of thought that I was at our local hospital, but then if that was the case, why hadn’t the girls come to see me?
Mum looked like she was about to answer at least about the time thing, but the door opened and in walked Dad.
“Wotcha, Squirt,” he said, his big beaming grin lighting up his face. “We thought you were gone for good.”
“Derek!” Mum said brusquely.
“Ah!” said Dad, blushing furiously and turning to Mum. “You haven’t told–” he said covering his mouth–badly and pointing repeatedly in my direction. “Have you?”
Mum rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Told me?” I quizzed, screwing my face up. “Told me what? I’m not stupid you know. I might have had a bump on the head, but I haven’t lost all my faculties.”
“Sorry sweetheart,” he replied apologetically.
“Derek!” Mum hissed.
So what was going on? There was something these people weren’t telling me and where were Megan and Chris?
Before either of us could get anything out, in walked the doctor whom I’d seen briefly earlier.
“Mr and Mrs Powers. Thank you so much for coming so quickly.”
“Thank you for getting back to us.”
“No problem. Would you mind coming with me. I have some questions for you.”
“Certainly, doctor,” Dad replied. “Jess, you don’t mind staying here do you?”
“I’ll be fine, Dad,” she told him with a sigh.
“Remember what we talked about?”
“Yessss, Mu-uum,” she said, closing her eyes, her face downcast.
While they were gone, Jess filled me in on what happened to Chris and Megan.
“They had to go home,” she said. “Megan was beside herself. She’s blamed herself for what happened to you.”
“It wasn’t her fault. It was me,” I said, sounding shocked.
“That’s what Mum said too–after Deirdre told her what had happened. Mum told Megan not to be so silly and to stop being so selfish, that it wasn’t your fault that things were happening.”
“So why was she being such a bitch?”
“She knew if Dad took Frank’s job offer that you’d have to stop seeing her–well, you would have, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, but–”
“Yeah, well, she decided she’d make it easy for you to hate her.”
“But I didn’t hate her, I mean I don’t–I couldn’t.”
“I know and so does she. Your chasing her on Valentina sort of proved that, which is why she blamed herself.”
“So is she; I mean, are they going to come and see me?”
“I don’t think they can get time off.”
“Oh.”
I was disappointed. I would have thought that either one or the other, if not both would at least have popped in to say hello or something.
“So what else is new?” I asked.
Jess looked thoughtful and I wondered whether that was likely to encroach upon one of those subjects she and Mum had talked about. I wondered too whether I should tell her what I had decided, but before I could say anything, Mum, Dad and the doctor returned.
“Hi, Squirt,” Dad said quickly, which probably meant he felt uncomfortable.
“Is someone going to tell me what’s happening?”
“Okay,” said the doctor. “You were admitted nearly seven weeks ago–”
“Seven weeks?” I demanded. “What the hell’s been going on?”
“I’ll get to that–IF you’ll let me finish.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s alright. Seven weeks ago–give or take anyway, you were brought in unconscious with head injuries and one other injury where, as your sister told you, you’d been trampled by a horse.”
“Stomped,” I corrected. “By Valentina.”
“Right. Well, when we examined you, we discovered that the damage was pretty severe–severe enough to warrant surgery. It was then we discovered that it was likely you had undescended testes.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that your testicles hadn’t dropped from inside your abdominal cavity into your scrotum. When we investigated further, we discovered that you didn’t have any at all.”
I was shocked to say the least.
“We did some exploratory ’keyhole’ surgery and discovered that not only did you not have testes, but you did have something else we weren’t expecting: a complete set of female reproductive organs–underdeveloped, but there nonetheless.”
“You mean, I’ve got girly bits inside me?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to put it quite like that, but that’s approximately what it amounts to, yes.”
“So I’m a girl?”
“Mostly, yes.”
I thought about this and tried to let it sink in, but I couldn’t quite get my head round it.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, owing to the damage the horse caused, we were either going to have to operate and remove your penis or repair it–as far as we could. We could have tried the repair, but you probably weren’t going to be able to use it for sexual relations afterwards. So we spoke to your parents about the likelihood of your internal organs developing and the dangers and–”
“You made me into a girl?”
“Yes. We started you on HRT to try and kick start your apparently dormant reproductive organs and with the surgery, we performed, you should start developing as you should have done to begin with in no time. The preliminary results are very encouraging. You won’t even have to use a stent either, as the plumbing has just been a case of rerouting, not reassignment.”
“Stent?” I asked.
“It’s a sort of torpedo-shaped thing in a variety of sizes to stretch your–” she must have seen my look of bewilderment. “Never mind, you won’t need them anyway,” she said.
I looked at Jess, who shrugged and Mum tried to look away.
“This issue of your innards may also explain why you didn’t hit puberty and I suspect there have been other things that you have been worried about that hadn’t happened or had happened as well–”
“Such as?” I asked.
“Emotions can run quite high in a girl of your age for instance, but hopefully, we caught you in time and can set you off down the right track from here. The final thing is that due to the medical condition we found you in, there was obviously a mistake back down the line and as a result, we have been able to correct your birth certificate from male to female, which should counteract any suggestion that you’re anything but a girl.”
“So you turned me into a girl?” I asked again, but it was just my mouth making sounds.
At that instant, I couldn’t stop the tears. They just flooded out and as soon as I began to cry, Mum sat beside me, trying to console me.
“We knew it was going to be hard on you–” she said soothingly.
“Hard?” I asked. “It’s not hard, it’s fantastic!”
“What?” she asked, sitting up straight, looking at me wide-eyed and shocked. “I thought–”
“That I didn’t want to stay a girl? That I wanted to go back to being James? No way. There’s a reason I found being Jamie so easy–I was supposed to be Jamie all along, that’s why. I knew it.”
“So you don’t mind?”
“Mind? I’ve been trying to work out how I was going to tell you that I wasn’t going back to being James practically since I woke up. It’s brilliant news.”
“You mean you’re not upset?”
“Far from it,” I said, the smile widening as Jess leapt at me again and engulfed me with more hugs and tears of her own.
“I only wish more people this sort of thing happens to would take it so well,” said the doctor.
My bits were all but healed and very odd. I’d never seen a girl’s bits before and this was something of a revelation.
“How am I supposed to pee?” I asked when the doctor came to examine me and remove my catheter.
“You sit down.”
“Ah, right. Got it.”
It may seem like teaching your granny to suck eggs, but don’t forget I’d never had to do any of that stuff before.
Standing in front of a mirror later, I can’t say as I was overly impressed. There was little to see–especially in the breast area. I guessed I’d have to wait till I got home before I could examine myself properly, but what I did see in that area was that my own breasts had begun to stick out a little more and were sort of conical with rather sensitive nipples.
Very sensitive.
I considered them and concluded that they were going to take some getting used to.
A few days later, I was ready to go home.
I had assumed that because Dad had been visiting regularly with Mum and Jess, we’d moved back to our area and I’d been transferred to our local hospital. I knew the holiday was long since over and while I never got to go to Aston Park, it had given me something I never knew I wanted, as well as managing to bring Jess and I together in a way I never thought possible.
“You ready, Squirt?” Dad asked.
“I think so,” I replied, scanning the room for anything I may have left–not that there was much in the first place.
“I just wanted to say goodbye,” said a familiar voice and I turned to see the doctor. “You will come back and see me if you have any problems, won’t you?”
I had developed quite a soft spot for her. I know I should have been outraged at losing my masculinity and being turned into a girl, but let’s face it, there wasn’t much there in the first place now was there? Not only that, the discovery that I should have been a girl all along was for me, and that’s what I’d become was just the icing on the cake.
“I will and thanks.”
We hugged and the doctor shook Dad’s hand. I was sure Dad gave her a look–a look of resignation. I’m not sure he viewed the prospect of two daughters with quite the enthusiasm I thought he should have.
Outside, things didn’t look at all familiar.
“Where are we?” I asked, giving Dad the evil eye. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
“Just wait,” he said, cryptically.
We drove for about twenty minutes and I began seeing things I thought I recognised, but due my time in hospital and the bang on the head, I couldn’t quite work out whether what I was seeing was from our home town or from holiday.
The further we went, the less I recognised and in the end I confronted Dad.
“Okay, this is not the way home. At first I thought it was the bump on the head, but now I’m sure of it. This is not the way home.”
“It is now,” Dad replied, the grin on his face unmistakable.
“You took Frank’s offer?”
“I did. I had a blazing row with the boss of my old job and told him to stuff it. Our first holiday in God knows how long and when I got there, I discovered the problem could have been fixed by anyone and then when I put that right, I got the phone call from your mum to tell me you’d had an accident and the boss said I was just trying to wriggle out of my responsibilities. I realised then that you, Jess and Mum were my responsibilities and told him to stick his job up his arse–but don’t tell Mum I told you that.”
That was another one of those things that made me giggle and Dad turned to me and grinned some more.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad so happy. The money’s a lot less than he’s used to, but he says that Mum was all for the move. He said that she had never said anything before, but wasn’t happy with the amount of time he spent away from home and I can’t say I disagree.
Jess and I were both enrolled at a new school and whilst we don’t get to see Chris or Megan, we’re still friends. I managed to smooth things over with Megan–by email of course–and finally she accepted that my accident wasn’t her fault. Once I explained that medically it was the best thing that could have happened as it could have been dangerous, that was enough for her to calm down.
For once, Jess and I were on equal footings at school. Our being ’almost’ identical twins stood us in good stead, with the Cliffside Heroine thing getting us in with all the right people. It’s the first time I’ve been to school and not been bullied, made fun of or anything. In fact, I’m quite popular actually.
We got new jobs too, which are fantastic. We got to work in the stables with Valentina and the other horses at the weekends with Deirdre, Frank, Mum and Dad and now the new cabins have been built, plumbed and wired, the place is ready to go. Thanks largely to the media exposure I got after the mudslide thing, they’re fully booked–despite the season coming to an end soon.
Just as a final surprise, the weekend before Jess and I started our new school, Mum and Dad took us to Aston Park. Thanks to having been in the papers, we got preferential treatment, which meant not having to queue. Jess was nearly sick on one of the rides, but being about as stubborn as a mule, she managed not to actually hurl, although she did get off at the other end as white as a sheet.
And, just to iron out whether the HRT worked, I had my first period about six months after getting home, which shocked and confused the hell out of me–and one or two members of the family too. No wonder I’d been bitchy for the week beforehand.
I don’t think Jess realised what the medical stuff actually meant and I know Dad didn’t, but there it was, large as life and twice as bad as anything that had happened before–including the accident, but that’s just one more thing I’ve got to look forward to–sorry, get used to.
Just as a final thought: I still find it hard to believe the whole thing was due to accidents. Okay, I said it was an accident at the beginning of this little tale, but instead, it was actually a series of three.
The first happened before I was born and the other two happened during the holiday, which just goes to illustrate the fact that sometimes the universe does use some pretty weird methods to straighten out its problems, doesn’t it?